Friday, September 30, 2011

Cutting Cakes With Doctor Aweful - Part 4

Continued from Part 3...

Earnest is probably the best word to describe the way in which Doctor Awful spread the prepackaged cream cheese frosting on the urinal cakes with the serrated bread knife. He was at the same time careful and haphazard, his intensity of focus occasionally overcome by twitchy fits of excitement which broadened the stroke of his frosting, extending the off-white smear across his work surface, which happened to be the trunk of his late 80's Honda Accord - a decrepit gray thing that leaked oil, had suffered severe raccoon damage leaving all interior upholstery ravaged, and smelled of musty old grapes from the outside.

There is a certain point in any illicit activity when it becomes wise to step back and let others perform the tasks that would otherwise leave a participant in a more actionable position, and at this point in his life, Mr. Somewhat Reasonably Normal was an excellent judge of these things - he had come a long way since his days as Young Disaffected Misanthrope. It was for this reason that he stood back and let Doctor Awful perform the act of Criminal Disguise on these non-food items. "He's never gonna eat those. What are you gonna tell him they are?"

"He will eat them, damn it! They're Moon Pies. His favorite." Doctor Awful said through his gnashed teeth while attempting to affect some artistic pizzazz with his brush.

"You see, that's where you're wrong - for one, even if they weren't cut in half, they are still way too chunky. And, Moon Pies aren't even frosted. You are a fool, this will never work." With that, Mr. Somewhat Reasonably Normal walked away.

"Okay, fine... they're Half-Moon Pies." Doctor Awful shouted, "He'll love them! He loves to eat piss!" 

To be continued (part 5)...

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Cutting Cakes With Doctor Awful - Part 3

Continued from Part 2...

As far back as he could remember, and much to the chagrin of his blood-relatives, friends, girlfriends, teachers, employers, and most acquaintances for that matter, Mr. Somewhat Reasonably Normal had always drawn the attentions of lunatics and feral half-breeds. These encounters almost always were accompanied by an acute risk of loss of limb, life, health, happiness or general well being. Strangely, though, it had never paid off, for good or ill.

Once, while walking down the street in a perfectly normal neighborhood, in a perfectly normal city, and in a absolutely normal fashion, Mr. Somewhat Reasonably Normal had stooped down to tie his shoe. There was no one around. Oh, but when he stood erect again, he encountered a stumbling and demanding Rabid Hipster - which is unusual, because it means that an otherwise normal person had probably purchased The Shins' Chutes Too Narrow or a Will Oldham album and grown an intense desire for irony, likely just before going complete batshit crazy. As unlikely as it is, we will take it for surface value and move forward.

During his interaction with the aforementioned Rabid Hipster very few facts remain clear, but we do know this: a lesser member of clergy's car was stolen (from which we can make certain assumptions of denomination based solely on the notion of ownership), no less than seven local house cats went missing (only three of which were outdoor cats), the local Stop and Shop was run completely out of butter and plungers, and all coffee urns from the area's twelve step programs went missing.

It's hard to judge what exactly happened during those three rain-free days, but even in speculation, the possibilities are endless. Did they eat those cats? Were they trying to make jailhouse wine? Was it all just an elaborate tribute to Toonces? We'll never know. But the point of this exercise, I guess, is in the fact that after those weird Autumn days, Mr. Somewhat Reasonably Normal surfaced unchanged, and never really mentioned it again. In fact, if pressed about what happened he would respond with "Nothing really..." because it was nothing, just Par For Course in the strange life of Mr. Somewhat Reasonably Normal.

To be continued (part 4)...

Monday, September 26, 2011

Cutting Cakes With Doctor Aweful - Part 2

Continued from Part 1...

"So, what's the plan with these, Doc?" Mr. Somewhat Reasonably Normal asked.

Doctor Awful stopped, plastic cage hanging from his mouth and stared into Mr. Somewhat Reasonably Normal's eyes the same exact way the devil does before placing the Big Bet on a man's character, drawing out the uncomfortable pause. "Do you remember that little wager Kevin and I had going the other week? Well, it seems that he wants to have his cake and eat it too. Yes, this is the only way..."

It was true, Doctor Awful had bet Loathsome Kevin that he couldn't stuff fourteen Hostess Ding Dongs in his mouth, mostly on the merit that it could be held over Loathsome Kevin's head for quite some time that he had crammed fourteen Ding Dongs in his mouth, a prize well worth the wager, at $100.

"That bastard is trying to flip it on me, saying I'm the type of guy who'd pay another man to put mouth on his Ding Dong. It won't stand! These cakes, it's what I need break even - I've already got four from the other bathroom. All these split in half'll make an even fourteen. Let's see if that fool will double down. We're gonna need frosting." With that Doctor Awful began vibrating gently.

To be continued (part 3)...

Monday, September 19, 2011

Cutting Cakes With Doctor Awful - Part 1

Mr. Somewhat Reasonably Normal stood at the middle urinal in a row of three, tending to business - thinking, breathing, trying not to breath, peeing obviously, when suddenly bursting into the tiled industrial men's room was an irate and clearly erratic Doctor Awful.

Without skipping a beat Doctor Awful grabbed Mr. Somewhat Reasonably Normal by his lapels and pulled him away from his attentions, slamming him against the concrete and ceramic tile wall, which was filthy, covered in several years of the foulest grime. Mr. Somewhat Reasonably Normal was not finished with the urinal, and in the suddenness of the moment wet Doctor Awful's pants for him.

Undestracted and now fully focused on Mr. Somewhat Reasonably Normal, Doctor Awful started shouting orders directly into Mr. Somewhat Reasonably Normal's face, dotting his cheeks, nose, lips, eyes and chin with frothy white coagulated spit.

"There isn't much time! You have a knife, don't you? Well you're going to need it, pal. We've got to cut these cakes in half - immediately! Here, take these." Doctor Awful began scooping up the urinal cakes, one by one, try dramatically to free them from their slotted plastic housing, eventually resorting to using his teeth to bite through the plastic.

Never being one to shy away from a challenge, Mr. Somewhat Reasonably Normal zipped up, then took each urinal cake, placed it on the floor, and pressed the blade of his pocket knife against the waxy puck until it split, releasing a fragrant waft of moth ball.

To be continued (part 2)...

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

Zombear Time Machine

"This was when Billy first came unstuck in time. His attention began to swing grandly through the full arc of his life, passing into death, which was violet light. There wasn't anybody else there, or anything. There was just violet light – and a hum." - Kurt Vonnegut, Slaughterhouse Five

I recently became unstuck in time, to quote the late-great Vonnegut, and I come bearing news of the worst and most horrible kind. It was not two weeks ago that I was putting the finishing touches on another brutal week of cubicle duty by setting a great fire to much of the lumber that had come crashing down in the recent hurricane. This was all celebrated by inviting a few people over to observe the fire and enjoying a few cocktails. But, some time around 10 PM things went horribly awry, owing much to strong drink, and I inadvertently stepped into my time machine.

It was a horrible sight indeed. I was transported to somewhere around 2035, and as you can imagine, the Zombies had taken over - only, not in the same sense that you would expect. Sure, the cities were safe, but the suburbs... words cannot describe the horror and irrational turn reality had taken. Contrary to popular belief, the Zombie scourge was not of human origin after all. There, in the suburban streets of 2035, lurked a kind of monster much more cruel and ominous - Zombears. Once one of those big bastards gets within mauling distance, there's little hope.

For those interested, the cocktail that temporarily unstuck me:
Zombear Time Machine

1 part Appleton Dark Rum
1 part Absolute Citron
1 part Pineapple Juice
1 part Red Bull
1 splash Orange Juice
1 more part Appleton Dark Rum

Pour all over ice, stir. Light a fire in the fire pit in the back yard, invite a few people over. As people start to show up, make another. Maybe make a third, not sure. Pass out by 10 PM.