Oh, Thorpiverse, now stop it. Don’t blindside me with scenery and expect me to decipher it when it’s the weekend and I’m a recovering workaholic. And I haven’t gotten my cup of coffee yet from the neighborhood Taco Bell. Slow down, you’re goin’ too fast. You got to make the morning last.
I ain’t feelin’ groovy trying to set the record straight concerning the environs in P1. (Takes obligatory first swig of Taco Bell Maxwell House medium cup, spits it on the floor from microwave burns on the tongue.) We ARE in the Milford High School journalism room, Ms. Rizk taking a dump from the Buffalo Chicken Sandwich (with mayo and Louisiana Lightnin’ Hot Sauce) she ate at Wendy’s at the faculty lavoratory, and NOT in the second floor of the Milford Enquirer Complex. Otherwise, Jimmy Olson and Lois Lane are in a useless conversation about Milford Athletics.
And evidently, Steve Luhm, when he’s not taking garbage to the dumpster at Milford High School, is running the buffer at 3:00 A.M. at the complex. You missed a spot, Steve. Yeah, right over there by the right desk leg. And you might wanna spray the place down with Roach-Pruf again. It has the Good Housekeeping Seal plus Paul Harvey adds it to his Folgers along with Coffee-Mate. And I found a roach running by one of the computers displaying an article on the Summer Modeling Show at Milford Fun ‘n’ Fashions.
Then in P2, there’s the Divine Miss Daffy interviewing Daddy Bader and this one’s pumpin’ up the volume, gang. Not sure how a high school rag that is Milford High School could turn her loose and subsequently watch her switch over to “Have you stopped beating your wife lately” questioning.
The COUP DE GRACE!!!!!! That pose Daddy Bader is displaying that is a facsimile of the one that one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence staged that appears on a 50′ x 74′ painting on a wall at your nearest neighborhood museum. Gang, I’ll allow you to insert your favorite Founding Father from the list of Signers of aforementioned Declaration. My money is on Benjamin Franklin but I’ll gladly accept Robert Morris, Samuel Adams, Richard Henry Lee, Button Gwinnett or any of the other 56 Signers in general. Yes, some of you might weigh in with Patrick Henry as Daddy Bader is just as vehement getting out of Sing Sing but, unfortunately, Henry wasn’t one of the Signers. Daddy Bader will have to select another statesman. And we better leave out Thomas Jefferson. He never went to prison and was a better writer than speaker. Plus he shaved every morning.
If ya wind up in prison because yore 4-wheel drive smashed into the meeting room where the Milford Women’s Christian Temperance Union Bar-B-Que Rally was being held and ya wuz 3 times over the limit, ya might be a redneck.
Gang, the title just came to me based upon the tete-a-tete between Lois and Jimmy in P1. And that David Allan Coe tune just won’t flush out of my head. Omigod, am I getting delusional? Will I wind up in a cell next to Daddy Bader? Well, at least I’ll know if he forgot to buy Gillette Atra at the Prison Canteen or if he’s just got a lot on his plate and shaving isn’t a priority. Give ’em to Daffy, Daddy Bader, if you’re not going to use them. They’re like a Poulan Weed-Eater for her hair.
“And Daffy sends a smash out to deep center. IT’S A GRAND SLAM!!!!!!! And the Mudlarks lead Oakwood, 11-0!!!!!!!!! That’s the third homer of the day for the journalist-3rd baseman. Man, Mimi must be using those batting machines at capacity. Daffy is just seeing watermelons up at the plate. Moose better be looking over his shoulder. And Coach T. better be taking notes from his wife. We have a pitching change for Oakwood so we’ll take a commercial break. This is Marty Moon with WDIG, a division of Lear Field Sports.”
In the locker room at Milford Athletic Club one day:
Coach Kaz, looking through his fuschia gym bag, is desperately seeking his Ben-Gay. He’s combed through it twice and all he finds is his 2x Large jock strap, stop watch, Holiday Inn towel, Wal-Mart wash cloth, comb, earring extractor, Lava, Johnson’s No-More-Cryin’-Like-A-Wimp Shampoo, mail order blow dryer, but no Ben-Gay.
Coach Shaw, fresh from a victory against Mark Trail in handball, inquires “What’s up, Kaz?”
“Aw, dammit, I can’t find my Ben-Gay.”
“Are you still using that sissy stuff? Bubba, you’re gonna smell like a candy cane when you go back to teach class.”
“Shaw, I gotta put something on my back muscles. You know how edgy I get when I feel like I’m constipated and I don’t have time to make it to Milford 7-11 to buy a $5.00 tube before my Intermediate Badminton class.”
“Kaz, you need to try Sportscreme. It has an active ingredient, thenobizonol-acetylate-disulfide-bicarbonate-soda that kills that Ben-Gay odor and soothes and massages your muscles better ‘n’ a vibrator.”
“Okay, so it’ll keep me limber and loose. But you sure I’m not going to overpower my class with that mediciney smell?”
“Bubba, I killed a skunk out in Milford Fish & Wildlife Area and later stuck a Sportscreme tube straight up its butt and gave it a good enema before I had to clean out its innards. Sportscreme snuffed out the stink dead in its tracks. Man, that was some good eatin’ later on, not having to chew the meat with that stench up my nostrils.”
Later, in Dr. Pearl’s office for Kaz’s annual teacher evaluation
“No workout today?”
“Yes, I was pumpin’ iron all morning with special emphasis on my pecs. Why?”
“You usually smell like Ben-Gay.”
“Not any more. The smell went in the same cell as Daddy Bader.”
“Wonderful!!!!! Now, Coach, we think you should use more visual aids in your Lifetime Bowling class…”
Gang, it’s your turn. I am still wondering how Stevie Ray Vaughan wound up in prison but maybe I’m getting old, I don’t know. Anyway, you Guys rock.
“I know no North nor South nor East nor West…”
“Warden, I’m adding 5 years onto his sentence. He keeps insisting he’s Henry Clay.”
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