The scene: The DFO clubhouse, where Yeah Right, Pirate Sloth and Redshirt are reclining on the couch watching pro wrestling.
Yeah Right: So…I mean, there’s no football on?
Redshirt: Nope.
Yeah Right: No high school games? Maybe a classic college replay?
Redshirt: Nope.
Pirate Sloth (reading the TV listings in the newspaper): Arr…it be sayin’ here that the Pro Bowl be on. Thar be yer football.
Yeah Right: The Pro Bowl, eh?
Redshirt: Yup. Want me to change the channel?
Yeah Right: Forget it. This is good.
Pirate Sloth (to Redshirt): But ye have to be tellin’ us, lad…which of these landlubbers do we be cheerin’ on? The mesomorphic masked fellow or the tattooed lad who’s wearing more makeup than me niece?
[DOOR FLIES OPEN]
Covalent Blonde enters through the front door, a red gym bag with gold straps over her shoulder. It has MMA pads sticking out of it, as well as a trophy.
Covalent Blonde (dropping her gym bag on Yeah Right’s lap and talking to him without looking): Hey, Marc, hold onto this for me. I’ve gotta crush a Gatorade.
Covalent Blonde goes into the kitchen as the three on the couch look at each other.
Pirate Sloth: Arr.
Yeah Right: Right? Like we’re not even here.
Redhsirt (nodding in agreement): Yup.
Yeah Right: I mean, what do those guys have that we don’t? We’re fun, right?
Pirate Sloth: Aye.
Yeah Right: We could go on adventures and fight giant gorillas, right?
Redshirt: Sure..
Yeah Right: I’m sick and tired of being ignored! I’m gonna go into the kitchen and give her a piece of my…
Redshirt (pulling the trophy out of the gym bag and reading the inscription): “Most Dynamic K.O. In Under 30 Seconds.” Huh. They’ll give out awards for anything these days.
Covalent Blonde comes back in with a half-full Gatorade.
Covalent Blonde: Oh, hey, guys! When did you get here?
Yeah Right (taking the trophy from Redshirt and putting it back in the bag): Just now! Hey, that’s a great trophy!
Covalent Blonde: Eh, my shelf at home is getting full, so I thought I might leave a few of ’em here. So, you guys haven’t seem Marc or OSZ? What about Moose?
Pirate Sloth: Nay, the place be vacated when we arrived. But thar be a note for ye, left upon the television.
Covalent Blonde (peeling the sticky note off of the TV): Huh. Well, at least they…
As Covalent Blonde reads the note, her brow furrows.
Covalent Blonde (irritated): Those idiots! OK, guys, hope you’re up for a road trip.
Yeah Right: Us? Actually we were just…
Covalent Blonde shoots Yeah Right a withering stare, which he appropriately withers under.
Yeah Right: Road trip! Sure! Sounds great!
Cut to: A grasshopper green Toyota Prius making its way down a two-lane highway. OSZ is at the wheel with Future Moose in the passenger seat and Marc Trestmans Windowless Van in the back.
Future Moose: Look, I appreciate the fact that you’re trying to save gas, but could we maybe go a teensy bit faster?
OSZ: I told you, I get the best mileage if I drive at a constant speed.
Future Moose: But can’t that constant speed be, I don’t know…maybe sixty or so?
OSZ: Come on…these cars are the future! Right? I mean, they are the future…aren’t they…?
Future Moose: Well…
Suddenly a bright red Corvette pulls up next them with two girls in bikini tops inside. They’re waving at OSZ and the Prius.
Bikini Girl #1: Hey, guys! Thanks for saving the planet!
Bikini Girl #2: Woooo!!!
The Corvette zooms past them and races off into the distance.
OSZ (avoiding Future Moose’s glare): I mean…sixty would probably be okay.
In the backseat Marc Trestmans Windowless Van lights up a custom glass bong.
OSZ (glancing at the rear-view mirror): What the heck? Where did you get that?
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: I told you, man, I’ve got, like, little stashes everywhere, man.
OSZ: But I just bought this car a few days ago!
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: From that lot on 2nd Street, right?
OSZ: Yeah…
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Thought I recognized this bong, man. That’s a nice place. That lot down on Fourth, man…no way I’d leave a bong like this in one of their cars.
OSZ: Look, just get rid of it! I’m not going to get pulled over just because you can’t wait until we stop to light up.
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: It’s cool, man. I’m pretty sure weed’s, like, legal now, man.
OSZ: No, Marc, it’s not. Moose, help me out here, would you?
Future Moose: Hey, in the future weed is totally legal. It’s Twinkies that I outlawed.
OSZ: Seriously? Twinkies?
Future Moose: It got pretty ugly, too. First we had the Twinkie Insurrections, and those led to the Great Twinkie Wars…it was a pretty dark time.
OSZ: There were wars over…Twinkies?
Future Moose: Oh, yeah. There are still resistance fighters out there. They call themselves the Brotherhood of Underground Twinkie Tasters.
OSZ: You know, you future people are terrible with acronyms.
Future Moose: No kidding. The Acronym Syndication Society has a ton of complaints to deal with every year.
Smoke from the back seat flows into the front, filling up the car.
OSZ: Marc…c’mon, man, you’re getting the car all smoky.
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Whoa, sorry, man! Like, you should roll down a window, man.
OSZ: That messes up the aerodynamics.
Future Moose: Don’t be a slave to your car, OSZ. It sets a bad precedent in the future.
Marc Trestmans Windowless Van: Hey, check out all the lights, man!
OSZ: Finally! We’re here!
To be continued…
OK, nobody really hates or supports the Twinkies anywhere near this passionately, they only pretend for the show to others, the bravado of false spirit. Twinkies are used as a straw man, much the way immigrants are used as a hate pawn today, a flash-point to determine tribal divisions, a mirage threat to forge alliances, which in turn vanish with the tide of the realization of hard facts about how and where food is made and distributed in the future.
I know I said I would say anything, but maybe you might think of just looking at Tesla stock, just sayin’ to look.
60 mph is OK, but get the fuck out of the left lane, damn.
Whoa!
I look forward to seeing how everything gets tied together. Otherwise you may be in trouble…
I just write the random thoughts that pop into my head, put them in a semi-coherent narrative, and hope for the best.
Well, well, lookie here; we gots us a reg-you-lar Billy S. Burroughs!
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I hope I decide to Pirate the … Pirate ship they have sitting out there at Treasure Island. So. Much. Booty. To. Be. Plundered.
Also, I am now super glad that I am the proud owner of a Twinkie Maker. I must lead the Brotherhood of Underground Twinkie Tasters.
“Dear future Mailbag: how do I get into the Brotherhood of Underground Twinkie Tasters?”
FINALLY I upgraded from that ten speed. Carting club members around on the handlebars was killing me.
Now I’d better put some speed holes in that Prius to make it go faster… someone hand me my pickaxe…
Fun fact: “Speed holes” are what Todd Marinovich calls those half-healed scabs on his inner elbow.
This was a true representation of my interest in the Pro Bowl.
I get to take a road trip to Vegas with Covalent Blonde? I only have to be asked once.
They’ll be singing songs about that legendary adventure for years to come.
Hey Marc, I bought my car from that lot down on Fourth and it’s a perfectly cromulent car.
CASINO DOOR FLIES OPEN….
I *guarantee* he is staying at Circus Circus while they are in town.
Hey man, Circus Circus redid their rooms a few years ago and, location aside, their prices are make for one of the more reasonable hotels on the Strip. I wouldn’t stay there with the bachelor party (unless it was Marc Trestman’s) but it’s a great value for price-conscious vacationer.
Also, if you want to be let down, stay at the Monte Carlo. Place didn’t even have those individual coffee makers in the room.
Interesting. My friend booked us there like fifteen years ago (we were in our twenties) and I wanted to murder him – nothing but screaming brats everywhere.
When I got to Vegas I usually stay downtown – I’m there to gamble, not gawk at things.
Two words: El Cortez.
Before the remodel. Ooof. That was an adventure…
I won a bunch of money at the El Cortez when one of their Digital 21 tables malfunctioned. Enough to pay off a chunk of my student loans. It’s actually a fun story; I’ll tell it to you next time we get together.
His face looks like someone gave their balls a bowl cut.
I’ve actually always wanted to visit the sign graveyard/neon museum, but I’ve never made it out there on my Vegas trips.
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I also thought it would be fun to get drive-thru married and divorced in the same day. Or drive-thru annulment would probably be more appropriate.
I was saving wondering if getting hitched in Vegas was as good for the relationship as it would be for my pocketbook — but I pick up that you would not agree.
I attended a Vegas wedding. It was across the street from the saddest strip club I’ve ever been in.
As far as I know, they are happily still married.
I went to a friend’s wedding in Vegas a couple of years ago. I was very disappointed that they were not wed by a Fat Elvis. I mean, why else get married in Vegas?
Well, the plan mentioned above involves getting married specifically to get divorced on the same day. I have no opinion on how Vegas would affect an actual marriage.
Remember : no sex = annulment.
Sex = divorce
The closest I got was driven by the outside by my coworker who lived in Vegas. We had to fly out to Canadaland, sadly there was no time for me to run around giggling like a school boy at how awesome it would be to be walking in the middle of all that awesomeness.
“Hey guys, thanks for saving the planet!”
killed me.
“Don’t be a slave to your car, OSZ. It sets a bad precedent in the future.”
got me.
Just picturing Terminators with headlights, their wheel feet stomping on piles of skulls.
That’s impressive subtlety.
You try to tell people about Banana Twinkies and they just look at you like you’re insane, man.
On the other hand you can get a good banana hammock practically anywhere; you don’t even need to be in the Hammock District!
This is true
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You especially looked for a yellow one, didn’t you… 😛
Only good can come of this…right?
It’s Vegas, so YES!
I missed the “Arrr” so it took me a minute to realize it was pirate talk. That minute made my white ass extremely uncomfortable.
“You think YOUR white ass is feeling extremely uncomfortable?”
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