"What would you say is your favorite appetizer?" Pappenfus asked.
The captain thought about it a moment. "Pigs in a blanket. No, wait. Chicken fingers."
Pappenfus's assistant piped in. "What's the deal with that name anyway? Chicken fingers. I don't know about you guys, but I don't think I've ever seen a chicken that had fingers! Am I right or what?"
"Not now, Jensen."
"Sorry, sir."
"Anyway, appetizers. You--"
"I'm a big fan of potato skins too," added the captain.
"Very good, sir. As I was saying, appetizers. Sure, you may not order them every time you go to a restaurant, but have you ever actually said no to an appetizer? Think about it. In your entire life, when have these words ever come out of your mouth: No, I do not want a bite of that appetizer. Never, right?"
The officers who were there with the captain shrugged their agreement.
"I also like spinach artichoke dip."
"Of course you do, captain. Who doesn't? Which is exactly why we at Pappenfus Industries believe that appetizers are the perfect device for stopping and immobilizing perpetrators."
Sensing that Pappenfus was getting to the meat of the matter, the officers leaned in.
Pappenfus pulled the cloth off of a tray full of fried mozzarella sticks, egg rolls, and popcorn shrimp.
"Everybody knows these delicious snacks as appetizers. Some clever eateries also call them appeteasers. Gentlemen, I give you the next generation of suspect suppression technology. The appetaser."
Pappenfus paused a beat to let the men soak it in.
"When someone is causing a disorder, threatening violence, about to trigger an ugly incident, all you have to do is get his attention long enough to offer him an appetaser."
He motioned to the tray.
"Sure they may look like regular appetizers, but they work just like a taser. Each one of these appetasers delivers a debilitating electrical charge straight to the perp's cortex that will leave him incapacitated for 10 minutes without causing any permanent damage. Plenty of time to detain him, remove him from the equation, and prevent a nasty incident."
"Appetasers--arrestingly delicious."
"Jensen, please."
"Sorry, sir."
"Yes, sergeant. You have a question?"
"The whole idea of a taser is to immobilize a troublemaker. If we can get an agitator's attention long enough to get him to eat one of your . . . "
"Appetasers."
"Whatever. Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose of having the things in the first place?"
"No at all," Pappenfus said. "You see--Captain, no!"
It was too late. The captain had bitten into one of the mozzarella sticks and was thrown out of his chair.
"He'll be fine," Pappenfus said. "Just give him some time."
When he came to 10 minutes later, Pappenfus was telling the other officers about some of his company's other products including the bathroom sanitaser, lawn fertiltaser, and bite sized taser tots, which looked delicious. Before anyone could stop him, the captain had reached up, grabbed one, and put it in his mouth.
"Captain, no!"
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
October 6 - Ed Robertson and the Greater Watahatcha Gift Shop
Whenever politicians and nostalgists idealize small towns, Watahatcha is probably what they have in mind: Fourth of July parades with combines and guys from the local VFW, high school football, 4H booths at the county fair, church on Sunday, picnics. That's Watahatcha, the quintessential American small town.
And make no mistake, it was small. So small that it only had one gas station, one supermarket, and one high school. There were no strip malls--no shopping centers of any kind. And except for a Tastee Freeze, no fast food restaurants.
There was, however, the Greater Watahatcha Gift Shop, the only shop of its kind in the Greater Watahatcha area.
Among their merchandise: Watahatcha t-shirts, mugs, hats, and spoons. Watahatcha baby bibs, salt and pepper shakers, and snow globes.
There was a book on the history of Watahatcha, the unimaginatively titled The Story of Watahatcha.
There were 8 1/2 by 11 black and white prints of important people and moments from Watahatcha history--the arrival of the railroad in 1892; a parade for the town's veterans after they had returned from WWII; a portrait of the 1962 Watahatcha Braves High School State Champion basketball squad; the time when then president Jimmy Carter visited the town; a shot of Watahatcha native Jim Navine, who flew a mission with Space Shuttle Atlantis; the time when Steven Spielberg shot a couple of scenes from Always in Watahatcha; Hands Across America.
There were calendars, recipe books, refrigerator magnets, maps, license plate frames. All kinds of stuff.
But after the new interstate highway was built well away from Watahatcha, the one thing the Greater Watahatcha Gift Shop didn't have was customers. Some days--and sometimes for days on end--the shop didn't have one visitor.
But that didn't stop owner and sole employee Ed Robertson from opening for business at 8 am every day of the year (except Christmas) and keeping it open until 8 pm.
His routine was always the same: arrive at the shop, get the register ready, sweep the sidewalk, put up the American flag, brew a pot of coffee for visitors to help themselves to, and open the doors at exactly 8 am. Even on days the shop didn't get customers, people from town would stop by and say hi.
Ed was more reliable than the US Postal Service. Even during the Great Blizzard of 1983 when everything was closed for more than a week, Ed Robertson trekked into town to open the shop just like he did every other day. He joked to his wife Connie that you never knew if somebody might need a Watahatcha snow globe--even in a blizzard. Incredibly, he got a customer on one of the days, a claims adjuster who'd gotten lost and was grateful that any place was open. After Ed gave him directions back to the interstate, the guy bought a Watahatcha hat and went on his way.
The shop didn't make a ton of money, especially after the new interstate opened. But it was enough for Ed and Connie to raise two sons and send them to college.
Ed worked at the Greater Watahatcha Gift Shop until the day he died of a heart attack shortly after taking down the flag and locking the doors at the end of the day. That was exactly one year ago today.
After he died, the Greater Watahatcha Gift Shop was demolished and a 7-11 was put in its place. No Watahatcha snow globes, but the coffee isn't bad.
And make no mistake, it was small. So small that it only had one gas station, one supermarket, and one high school. There were no strip malls--no shopping centers of any kind. And except for a Tastee Freeze, no fast food restaurants.
There was, however, the Greater Watahatcha Gift Shop, the only shop of its kind in the Greater Watahatcha area.
Among their merchandise: Watahatcha t-shirts, mugs, hats, and spoons. Watahatcha baby bibs, salt and pepper shakers, and snow globes.
There was a book on the history of Watahatcha, the unimaginatively titled The Story of Watahatcha.
There were 8 1/2 by 11 black and white prints of important people and moments from Watahatcha history--the arrival of the railroad in 1892; a parade for the town's veterans after they had returned from WWII; a portrait of the 1962 Watahatcha Braves High School State Champion basketball squad; the time when then president Jimmy Carter visited the town; a shot of Watahatcha native Jim Navine, who flew a mission with Space Shuttle Atlantis; the time when Steven Spielberg shot a couple of scenes from Always in Watahatcha; Hands Across America.
There were calendars, recipe books, refrigerator magnets, maps, license plate frames. All kinds of stuff.
But after the new interstate highway was built well away from Watahatcha, the one thing the Greater Watahatcha Gift Shop didn't have was customers. Some days--and sometimes for days on end--the shop didn't have one visitor.
But that didn't stop owner and sole employee Ed Robertson from opening for business at 8 am every day of the year (except Christmas) and keeping it open until 8 pm.
His routine was always the same: arrive at the shop, get the register ready, sweep the sidewalk, put up the American flag, brew a pot of coffee for visitors to help themselves to, and open the doors at exactly 8 am. Even on days the shop didn't get customers, people from town would stop by and say hi.
Ed was more reliable than the US Postal Service. Even during the Great Blizzard of 1983 when everything was closed for more than a week, Ed Robertson trekked into town to open the shop just like he did every other day. He joked to his wife Connie that you never knew if somebody might need a Watahatcha snow globe--even in a blizzard. Incredibly, he got a customer on one of the days, a claims adjuster who'd gotten lost and was grateful that any place was open. After Ed gave him directions back to the interstate, the guy bought a Watahatcha hat and went on his way.
The shop didn't make a ton of money, especially after the new interstate opened. But it was enough for Ed and Connie to raise two sons and send them to college.
Ed worked at the Greater Watahatcha Gift Shop until the day he died of a heart attack shortly after taking down the flag and locking the doors at the end of the day. That was exactly one year ago today.
After he died, the Greater Watahatcha Gift Shop was demolished and a 7-11 was put in its place. No Watahatcha snow globes, but the coffee isn't bad.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
October 5 - Random Thoughts of a Person Trapped Under a Dr. Pepper Machine and Watching Celine Dion's A New Day: Live in Las Vegas DVD on Repeat
8:02 pm The good news: I don't think anything is broken. The bad news: I can't move. I'm trapped under this damned vending machine. More bad news: I'm pretty sure nobody's coming here until tomorrow morning. The other bad news: For some reason, somebody left Celine Dion's A New Day: Live in Las Vegas in the DVD player.
This is not good.
This could be a long night.
8:03 pm Celine Dion all night long? It could be worse.
8:04 pm Couldn't it?
8:17 pm You know how many albums Celine Dion has sold? Neither do I, but her initials are CD. That can't be a coincidence.
8:19 pm What amazes me about this is how many of her songs I actually recognize on this DVD. Shit, I know her back catalog better than that of groups I actually like. Jesus.
8:37 pm She's now surrounded by topless white dudes and a black guy in a not at all racist/dehumanizing bellhop uniform. Who the hell does she think she is, Madonna?
9:14 pm I came so freaking close to taking a piss before I came in here. How much you want to bet I'm going to regret that one before the night's through?
9:21 pm Really, Celine? Air guitar?
9:44 pm OK, I have officially seen Celine Dion's A New Day: Live in Las Vegas. Silly me. I kind of thought I would make it through today without being able to say that.
9:47 pm By the time someone comes in here again and starts getting me out from underneath this damned Dr. Pepper machine, I will have seen this concert at least six or seven times.
9:48 pm Why the hell did I think that shaking this machine would cause it to give me my money back? What the hell was I thinking?
10:42 pm I could eat.
10:43 pm And pee.
10:44 pm There's no way in hell Celine Dion craps. She's too . . . perfect. No freaking way she pulls down her pants parks her ass on a toilet and goes for it. No way. No, what happens is angels descend from the heavens and make it disappear while she sleeps. Celine Dion defecating? Yeah, right.
11:18 pm That is without a doubt the biggest stage I've ever seen in my life. You could play baseball on that thing. And so many dancers. The dancers could play baseball on the stadium. And the rest of them could be the fans and ball boys and what not.
11:19 pm He he. Ball boys.
11:20 pm Wait a minute. What the fuck do you need so many fucking dancers for?! Tell one of them to stop prancing around and call the police and get me out of here!
11:52 pm Maybe the power will magically cut off at midnight.
12:00 am Nope.
12:34 am Hey, look at the time! It's 12:34 and 56 seconds!
12:35 am I'm so freaking tired. And yet, who could sleep when Celine is butchering Cyndi Lauper?
1:34 am Look at her on that big screen basking in the applause, addressing her minions. She is otherworldly. She is the next step in evolution. She could control the galaxy if she put her mind to it. She should just retire from singing and begin a new career as an omnipotent deity of some sort.
2:12 am Well, I just peed my pants for the first time since I was a toddler.
2:13 am OK, since I was a college student.
3:02 am Holy fucking Canadian bacon, Batman! How many dancers does a fucking diva need? How can she afford to pay them all? This is starting to stress me out.
3:14 am Hey son, how did your audition go for being a dancer with the Celine Dion show? On second thought, I don't care. You're a disappointment either way.
3:34 am I hate her.
3:35 am I hate her fans, too. Look at all those dickless boyfriends in the audience pretending to enjoy themselves. It won't matter! You'll never get laid! Never!
3:36 am Oh yeah, take off that jacket, Celine. Slower, slower.
3:37 am In fairness, she does have a pretty decent figure. But maybe that's just the trapped-under-a-Dr.-Pepper-machine-for-the-last-eight-hours talking. Shit, trap a guy under a Dr. Pepper machine long enough and he'll find any woman attractive.
3:38 am Call me crazy, but I wouldn't turn down Penny Marshall at this point.
4:13 am Every time a fan sheds a tear at this concert, Iggy Pop ages one day.
4:42 am SHUT UP!! For the love of God and all that is holy, shut up so I can sleep!
4:56 am Hey, look at me! I'm bilingual! I can suck in English and French!
5:14 am OK, so this song is, like, gospel or something. And it kind of doesn't suck. I really don't want to like this, but I do. I like a Celine Dion song. What the hell does that mean? I haven't felt this conflicted since that time I was checking out that chick's ass and then she turned around and it was a dude.
5:23 am I wonder what she's really like. Maybe she's actually nice. I mean, do you ever hear diva stories about her? I don't think you do. In fact, the only anecdote I can really think of about her as a person was that she was really nice and gracious to Elliott Smith when they were both performing Best Original Song nominations at the Oscars. And she didn't have to do that. Maybe I've been too hard on her all these years.
5:26 am Am I starting to like Celine Dion?
5:57 am The morning shift should be here any minute.
5:58 am Oh please, don't let them come in now. Not until after she nails the big note on My Heart Will Go On.
5:59 am If I hate that song so much, why has it choked me up every time I've heard it tonight?
6:00 am Oh thank God, there's the door. Thank God, they're here. God I wish I could move my arms so I could wipe away these tears.
This is not good.
This could be a long night.
8:03 pm Celine Dion all night long? It could be worse.
8:04 pm Couldn't it?
8:17 pm You know how many albums Celine Dion has sold? Neither do I, but her initials are CD. That can't be a coincidence.
8:19 pm What amazes me about this is how many of her songs I actually recognize on this DVD. Shit, I know her back catalog better than that of groups I actually like. Jesus.
8:37 pm She's now surrounded by topless white dudes and a black guy in a not at all racist/dehumanizing bellhop uniform. Who the hell does she think she is, Madonna?
9:14 pm I came so freaking close to taking a piss before I came in here. How much you want to bet I'm going to regret that one before the night's through?
9:21 pm Really, Celine? Air guitar?
9:44 pm OK, I have officially seen Celine Dion's A New Day: Live in Las Vegas. Silly me. I kind of thought I would make it through today without being able to say that.
9:47 pm By the time someone comes in here again and starts getting me out from underneath this damned Dr. Pepper machine, I will have seen this concert at least six or seven times.
9:48 pm Why the hell did I think that shaking this machine would cause it to give me my money back? What the hell was I thinking?
10:42 pm I could eat.
10:43 pm And pee.
10:44 pm There's no way in hell Celine Dion craps. She's too . . . perfect. No freaking way she pulls down her pants parks her ass on a toilet and goes for it. No way. No, what happens is angels descend from the heavens and make it disappear while she sleeps. Celine Dion defecating? Yeah, right.
11:18 pm That is without a doubt the biggest stage I've ever seen in my life. You could play baseball on that thing. And so many dancers. The dancers could play baseball on the stadium. And the rest of them could be the fans and ball boys and what not.
11:19 pm He he. Ball boys.
11:20 pm Wait a minute. What the fuck do you need so many fucking dancers for?! Tell one of them to stop prancing around and call the police and get me out of here!
11:52 pm Maybe the power will magically cut off at midnight.
12:00 am Nope.
12:34 am Hey, look at the time! It's 12:34 and 56 seconds!
12:35 am I'm so freaking tired. And yet, who could sleep when Celine is butchering Cyndi Lauper?
1:34 am Look at her on that big screen basking in the applause, addressing her minions. She is otherworldly. She is the next step in evolution. She could control the galaxy if she put her mind to it. She should just retire from singing and begin a new career as an omnipotent deity of some sort.
2:12 am Well, I just peed my pants for the first time since I was a toddler.
2:13 am OK, since I was a college student.
3:02 am Holy fucking Canadian bacon, Batman! How many dancers does a fucking diva need? How can she afford to pay them all? This is starting to stress me out.
3:14 am Hey son, how did your audition go for being a dancer with the Celine Dion show? On second thought, I don't care. You're a disappointment either way.
3:34 am I hate her.
3:35 am I hate her fans, too. Look at all those dickless boyfriends in the audience pretending to enjoy themselves. It won't matter! You'll never get laid! Never!
3:36 am Oh yeah, take off that jacket, Celine. Slower, slower.
3:37 am In fairness, she does have a pretty decent figure. But maybe that's just the trapped-under-a-Dr.-Pepper-machine-for-the-last-eight-hours talking. Shit, trap a guy under a Dr. Pepper machine long enough and he'll find any woman attractive.
3:38 am Call me crazy, but I wouldn't turn down Penny Marshall at this point.
4:13 am Every time a fan sheds a tear at this concert, Iggy Pop ages one day.
4:42 am SHUT UP!! For the love of God and all that is holy, shut up so I can sleep!
4:56 am Hey, look at me! I'm bilingual! I can suck in English and French!
5:14 am OK, so this song is, like, gospel or something. And it kind of doesn't suck. I really don't want to like this, but I do. I like a Celine Dion song. What the hell does that mean? I haven't felt this conflicted since that time I was checking out that chick's ass and then she turned around and it was a dude.
5:23 am I wonder what she's really like. Maybe she's actually nice. I mean, do you ever hear diva stories about her? I don't think you do. In fact, the only anecdote I can really think of about her as a person was that she was really nice and gracious to Elliott Smith when they were both performing Best Original Song nominations at the Oscars. And she didn't have to do that. Maybe I've been too hard on her all these years.
5:26 am Am I starting to like Celine Dion?
5:57 am The morning shift should be here any minute.
5:58 am Oh please, don't let them come in now. Not until after she nails the big note on My Heart Will Go On.
5:59 am If I hate that song so much, why has it choked me up every time I've heard it tonight?
6:00 am Oh thank God, there's the door. Thank God, they're here. God I wish I could move my arms so I could wipe away these tears.
Monday, October 4, 2010
October 4 - Out of Love
I ever tell you about the time I was in a rock video?
No?
Check it out.
You know the video for Fell in Love With a Girl?
That's me.
Here's the short version. One day I was just sitting in some kid's closet where I'd been for like a hundred years.
(Oh, and by the way, I don't mean that in some bullshit Toy Story make you cry kind of way. Screw it. I'm a box of Legos. Would I be happier if some kids were playing with me? On some level, yeah, probably. Fuck it, I'm a toy. Play with my ass.
But on another level, no, not really. For reasons nobody's ever been able to explain to me, kids bite fucking Legos. And since I'm not some perv like your mom, I don't exactly get off on being bitten, so if avoiding the bites means staying inside my box, so be it. Toss my ass in the closet and leave me be.)
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the short version.
So yeah, there I am sitting in my box in some closet and next thing I know some Hollywood guys have me in some studio somewhere with shit loads of lights and cameras and low level ass kissers trying to make a name for themselves by playing with me for days and days on end.
And I do mean days.
Holy ass bleeding hell, man. Have you ever been on any sort of animation shoot? Fuck my bricky little ass, it's tedious. In order for them to make it look like I'm moving, they have to reassemble me into something slightly different for every single frame of that video. Damn thing's not even two minutes long, but man it took for freaking ever to shoot.
Have you seen it? If not, go YouTube that shit. I don't mind telling you it sucked plenty of ass to make, but I gotta admit it's a pretty kick ass video. And you may not believe it to look at me now, but I look pretty freaking good in it. There I am playing the guitar, beating the drums, walking upstairs, swimming, and I don't even know what else.
Seriously, YouTube that shit. I'll wait. Not like I have anything else to do.
Speaking of which, when they were (finally) done filming that cocksucker, back into the box I went and that was it for me. Not that I was expecting some huge career out of it or anything, but I thought maybe something might happen. Maybe I'd get put in a commercial or have some rock geek want to own the original Lego set used in Fell in Love With a Girl so he could show it off to all his dork ass not getting laid friends, or something, but no. Nothing.
Back into the closet. We're done with you.
And the thing is, most of me is like whatever. Forget my ass. Like I care.
But the rest of me is like screw you. Build me up, make me famous, and then drop me like I'm some object?
Fuck you.
Hey, I think I just came up with the plot for Toy Story 4. Not that they would ever give a story credit to a box of Legos, but whatever.
No?
Check it out.
You know the video for Fell in Love With a Girl?
That's me.
Here's the short version. One day I was just sitting in some kid's closet where I'd been for like a hundred years.
(Oh, and by the way, I don't mean that in some bullshit Toy Story make you cry kind of way. Screw it. I'm a box of Legos. Would I be happier if some kids were playing with me? On some level, yeah, probably. Fuck it, I'm a toy. Play with my ass.
But on another level, no, not really. For reasons nobody's ever been able to explain to me, kids bite fucking Legos. And since I'm not some perv like your mom, I don't exactly get off on being bitten, so if avoiding the bites means staying inside my box, so be it. Toss my ass in the closet and leave me be.)
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, the short version.
So yeah, there I am sitting in my box in some closet and next thing I know some Hollywood guys have me in some studio somewhere with shit loads of lights and cameras and low level ass kissers trying to make a name for themselves by playing with me for days and days on end.
And I do mean days.
Holy ass bleeding hell, man. Have you ever been on any sort of animation shoot? Fuck my bricky little ass, it's tedious. In order for them to make it look like I'm moving, they have to reassemble me into something slightly different for every single frame of that video. Damn thing's not even two minutes long, but man it took for freaking ever to shoot.
Have you seen it? If not, go YouTube that shit. I don't mind telling you it sucked plenty of ass to make, but I gotta admit it's a pretty kick ass video. And you may not believe it to look at me now, but I look pretty freaking good in it. There I am playing the guitar, beating the drums, walking upstairs, swimming, and I don't even know what else.
Seriously, YouTube that shit. I'll wait. Not like I have anything else to do.
Speaking of which, when they were (finally) done filming that cocksucker, back into the box I went and that was it for me. Not that I was expecting some huge career out of it or anything, but I thought maybe something might happen. Maybe I'd get put in a commercial or have some rock geek want to own the original Lego set used in Fell in Love With a Girl so he could show it off to all his dork ass not getting laid friends, or something, but no. Nothing.
Back into the closet. We're done with you.
And the thing is, most of me is like whatever. Forget my ass. Like I care.
But the rest of me is like screw you. Build me up, make me famous, and then drop me like I'm some object?
Fuck you.
Hey, I think I just came up with the plot for Toy Story 4. Not that they would ever give a story credit to a box of Legos, but whatever.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
October 3 - The Penis Thief
"Hey! Help! Somebody stop that guy! Somebody stop him!"
Nobody moves.
"He's got my penis!"
Nobody does anything. They're all waiting for someone else to step in. The crowd on the platform parts for the penis thief and he runs through them.
"Officer! You have to help me. He's got my penis! I saw him running toward the elevator. If you call ahead you can still get him before he gets out of the station!"
"OK," he says. "Slow down, slow down. Who's got your penis? What's he look like?"
"He's um, he's about my height. Black suit--"
"Like a ninja?"
"Wh--? No, not like a ninja. Like a business suit. White shirt, no tie. And a mask! Like a burglar's mask. Like, you know, the Hamburglar?"
Writing it down in his notebook. Bored. "OK. And he's got your penis, you say?"
"Yes! Please, just hurry! You can still get him before he gets out of the station."
Turns around and speaks into his walkie talkie.
"What's your name, sir?"
"Gary. Gary Dinkins."
Turns around and speaks into his walkie talkie some more.
"He get anything else of yours? Wallet? Briefcase? Anything?"
"No, just the penis. Please!"
"Was it a mugging? Did he take it by force?"
"No, he--It fell out of my bag. I was sleeping and it must have fallen out of my bag. He picked it up and I thought he was going to hand it to me, but then he pushed me back down into my seat and made a run for it."
Writes it down.
"Look. Officer, please. He's still close. I'm sure you can get him if you just hurry."
"Just a few more questions. He was wearing the--what do you call it?--Hamburglar mask at the time he took your penis?"
"Yeah."
"OK, and did he say anything to you?"
"No. He just grabbed my penis, pushed me down, and ran."
"OK," he says, clicking his pen shut. "Let me tell you how these things usually play themselves out. This guy's probably going to take your penis for a little joyride, and then it'll probably turn up behind some dumpster or in an old hotel room or something in a couple of days. I assume it's registered in your name?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah, and then it'll probably get returned to you a couple weeks later. Maybe a little worse for the wear, but no major damage--although I would get it checked out just to be on the safe side."
"But officer, he just left. He's probably right upstairs. He couldn't have gotten far."
Shakes his head. He's done with it.
"Let it go."
By now another train has come and gone on the platform. Minutes have passed. All the people who'd witnessed the commotion are long gone. The penis could be anywhere.
The officer puts his notebook away and then looks at the guy.
"Ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Does it hurt? You know, the procedure?"
Thinks a bit.
"It's not too bad."
Nods.
"Girlfriend's idea?"
Looks down at the floor as if the answer is there.
"Yeah."
Nods again.
"Yeah, my wife wanted me to get it done, too."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
Snorts laughter through his nose.
"You kidding?"
Shoulders slump.
"Anyway, we're done here. Keep your chin up, Mr. Dinkins. You'll get yours back."
Nods, still looking at the floor.
"And I'm not suggesting this is your fault or anything, but I might suggest that next time you just keep it attached, you know, if you're just going to work or whatever."
Nods again.
"You gonna be all right?"
Nods again.
"Yeah."
"All right. You take care, sir."
"Thanks."
The officer leaves and Gary starts practicing the phone call to his girlfriend, the one where he tells her he's lost track of his penis again.
Nobody moves.
"He's got my penis!"
Nobody does anything. They're all waiting for someone else to step in. The crowd on the platform parts for the penis thief and he runs through them.
"Officer! You have to help me. He's got my penis! I saw him running toward the elevator. If you call ahead you can still get him before he gets out of the station!"
"OK," he says. "Slow down, slow down. Who's got your penis? What's he look like?"
"He's um, he's about my height. Black suit--"
"Like a ninja?"
"Wh--? No, not like a ninja. Like a business suit. White shirt, no tie. And a mask! Like a burglar's mask. Like, you know, the Hamburglar?"
Writing it down in his notebook. Bored. "OK. And he's got your penis, you say?"
"Yes! Please, just hurry! You can still get him before he gets out of the station."
Turns around and speaks into his walkie talkie.
"What's your name, sir?"
"Gary. Gary Dinkins."
Turns around and speaks into his walkie talkie some more.
"He get anything else of yours? Wallet? Briefcase? Anything?"
"No, just the penis. Please!"
"Was it a mugging? Did he take it by force?"
"No, he--It fell out of my bag. I was sleeping and it must have fallen out of my bag. He picked it up and I thought he was going to hand it to me, but then he pushed me back down into my seat and made a run for it."
Writes it down.
"Look. Officer, please. He's still close. I'm sure you can get him if you just hurry."
"Just a few more questions. He was wearing the--what do you call it?--Hamburglar mask at the time he took your penis?"
"Yeah."
"OK, and did he say anything to you?"
"No. He just grabbed my penis, pushed me down, and ran."
"OK," he says, clicking his pen shut. "Let me tell you how these things usually play themselves out. This guy's probably going to take your penis for a little joyride, and then it'll probably turn up behind some dumpster or in an old hotel room or something in a couple of days. I assume it's registered in your name?"
"Yeah."
"Yeah, and then it'll probably get returned to you a couple weeks later. Maybe a little worse for the wear, but no major damage--although I would get it checked out just to be on the safe side."
"But officer, he just left. He's probably right upstairs. He couldn't have gotten far."
Shakes his head. He's done with it.
"Let it go."
By now another train has come and gone on the platform. Minutes have passed. All the people who'd witnessed the commotion are long gone. The penis could be anywhere.
The officer puts his notebook away and then looks at the guy.
"Ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Does it hurt? You know, the procedure?"
Thinks a bit.
"It's not too bad."
Nods.
"Girlfriend's idea?"
Looks down at the floor as if the answer is there.
"Yeah."
Nods again.
"Yeah, my wife wanted me to get it done, too."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"And?"
Snorts laughter through his nose.
"You kidding?"
Shoulders slump.
"Anyway, we're done here. Keep your chin up, Mr. Dinkins. You'll get yours back."
Nods, still looking at the floor.
"And I'm not suggesting this is your fault or anything, but I might suggest that next time you just keep it attached, you know, if you're just going to work or whatever."
Nods again.
"You gonna be all right?"
Nods again.
"Yeah."
"All right. You take care, sir."
"Thanks."
The officer leaves and Gary starts practicing the phone call to his girlfriend, the one where he tells her he's lost track of his penis again.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Friday, October 1, 2010
October 1 - Asparagus
One of my favorite things to do is wait until I'm really, really tired and then cook up a whole bunch of asparagus and eat it all along with a big glass of water right before I go to sleep. Then, if I'm lucky, I'll wake up the next morning having forgotten all about it. And when I go into the bathroom for my first pee of the day, I'll be like, Whoa, dude! What the hell is that? You know, because of the smell and everything? By the time I'm done peeing, I'll usually remember the previous night's asparagus binge, and then I'll kind of chuckle at how freaked out I'd gotten.
It's so awesome! I go from relaxed to disgusted/panicked to relieved--all within, like, maybe a minute. Any day that starts with that kind of emotional roller coaster is bound to be a good one.
I'm always trying to get my friends and co-workers with the same trick, but you'd be surprised how hard it is to get them to eat a big plate of asparagus right before they go to sleep.
It's so awesome! I go from relaxed to disgusted/panicked to relieved--all within, like, maybe a minute. Any day that starts with that kind of emotional roller coaster is bound to be a good one.
I'm always trying to get my friends and co-workers with the same trick, but you'd be surprised how hard it is to get them to eat a big plate of asparagus right before they go to sleep.
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