(an ode to 1995)
by Dan Neid & Eric Schwartz
“The campus seems crispy tonight,” I said.
“Yes,” she said and used her tongue as a shoe horn.
Then, in a flash-in-the-pan, flipped-up counter attack, I reupholstered her wood cushion. She looked up at me with her shoe-horn tongue and rattled my Wickey.
“Oh my,” I said. “My Wickey has never tingled so subtly yet so violently.”
She wiped the funk off her tongue and giggled, saying, “Flash! Bam! Alakazam!”
‘This is it,’ I thought. My next move would be the most crucial. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a picture of Meredith Baxter-Birney. I said, “Have you seen her new show?!”
She belched a pungent cloud as I had a
sinking nausea. It reminded me of the time I was drinking Dad’d
Root Been at the edge of the
Grandpa tossed his cookies into the black
water and screamed, “Well, that about does it for
I was furious. I bitch-slapped his 95-year-old ass and in a high pitched Gaelic accent shrieked, “I don’t think I can love you anymore!!”
Then there I was, standing with Lisa at my pad. She just stared at me with a bag of silver polish dangling from her nips. She reached over and licked the quarter I was tempting her with.
“What’s with the tongues tonight?!”
She blinked coldly and addressed me in my proper Navajo name “Mudbutter...”
“Look,” I said. “Don’t tempt me with that pseudo-American smack!” She was shocked.
“Mudbutter, I have something important to bring you from the fifth wonder of the world.”
I lost my fudge, right there at the luau. The entire cast of Magnum P.I. ejected milk outta d’ere náse. I wiped my socks and turned to T.C..
“Well flap my jacks,” he said.
At that point the only thing I could think to do was grab my bottle of Sinex and spray her in the cud. She dropped to the floor and flopped around like a hockey tooth.
She screamed, “Don’t buy cats! They lick the butter!”
At this point I thought, ‘What the hell does this all mean?’ On the grand scale of things we are but tears on the face of giants. A fleeting flash of Promethean nothing. There must be a truth... Uh.. um.. see if you inhaul my heela ‘kay? You’ll have to spoon feed me Gerber carrots and peas.
I almost forgot. That’s why we were all here.
Then I calmed down. A gentle breeze stroked my cheek. I reached down and patted the head of my pet dingo, Thelonious.
“You ready for the big road, friend?”
He whimpered, because dingoes can’t bark.
Then we waltzed the Sun Waltz.