Mostimportant right now is I got an appointment to meet the fellas up over by theUptowner tavern/charm school to figure exactly when “rogue” became a synonymfor “white supremacist,” and then go shop for handguns so’s we’re notout-nutted next time we attend a town-hall meeting or perhaps a youth soccercontest.
Besides, alittle concealed-carry self-protection seems kind of practical during this, theholiday seasonlike when somein-law at a get-together has too much eggnog, gets a little cranky and all of asudden whips out a heater and wants to blow your head off ’cause he justremembered you didn’t come by to lend a hand and help take the focking pier outup at the crappy cottage last Labor Day.
So comealong if you’d like, but you buy the first round, what the fock. Let’s getgoing.
Emil: So what night you’s guys want to go seeWill Durst’s show?
Ray: That guy always cracks me up. He even smellsfunny.
Little Jimmy Iodine: I hear Friday the 27thhe’s at the Railroad Station out in Saukville, wherever the fock that is.Saturday night he’s in the big room they got at Paulo’s Pizza on the SouthSide, and Sunday on the West Side over by theEl Matador’s Kiko’s Lounge.
Ray: And speaking of smell…
Little Jimmy: Hey, Artie! Over here. Put a load on yourkeister.
Art: Hey gents, what do you know, what do you hear. You’s all ready to gobuy some guns?
Ernie: Can’t. I got to go pick up the turkey for the Thanksgiving.
Julius: Me neither. I got to leave soon and go with the wife to the HumaneSociety ’cause she wants to pick out a pet she can give to the sister-in-lawfor Christmas, since she’s all alone now.
Herbie: What the fock. The last thing anybody needs when they become alone issome kind of whining, snot-nosed sack of shedding-fur piece of crap runningaround wrecking your stuff all the time.
Little Jimmy: Herbie’s right, Juley. Your dogs, yourcatsthese pets have been known to really muck up a household.
Herbie: Abso-focking-lutely. If you really got to get her an animal foraround-the-house, get her something practical like a chimpanzee. I hear you cantrain those fockers to perform a wealth of pain-in-the-butt choresswab thetoilet, cut the goddamn grass, get the mail, iron a shirt or two. Plus, I justread that we share a common ancestor with the chimp from only five to sixmillion years ago.
Little Jimmy: And ’cause you have something in common withthe chimp, that would make for a better relationship right off the bat thanyou’d have with your schnauzer, your tomcat.
Ernie: Hell yes. And what sane-thinking monkey would choose to be in theirnatural habitat where they routinely become the day’s main course for a pack ofjackals over hanging around a nice apartment where the most dangerous thingthat can happen is sticking its mitt down the kitchen drain with the garbagedisposal going full blast while it’s doing the dishes?
Emil: Cripes, I think I just got the flu. I got to go to the can. Anybodyswipes my bar change, I’ll shoot you soon as we get our guns.
Julius: That flu is no picnic cakewalk on the beach. They tell you to drinkplenty of focking fluids and get a lot of rest. Hey, how the hell do you restwhen you got to get up and take a leak from the fluids every two seconds, whatthe fock.
Little Jimmy: And even when you get OK, having to go tothe bathroom on a multi-daily basis chews up a lot of timetime that could beput to better use. You’d think the rocket scientists could come up with somekind of pill-capsule to eliminate the time we waste eliminating waste, ain’a?
Herbie: Not to mention that we could irrigate the goddamn Gobi focking Desert with all theflush-water we’d save. You’d think if the Lord was more one of thoseenvironmental types, he’d a come up with a body design that was less wastefulfor christ sakes. If I ever get to the heaven they damn well better have asuggestion box, so I can tell the powers-that-be it’s time to juice up theevolution and start pumping out bodies and brains that don’t waste anymore. IfI get up there before you’s and then one day all of a sudden there’s no morehuman crap in this world, toast me a cocktail, would you?
(Hey, I knowyou got to go but thanks for letting us bend your ear. Have a niceThanks-focking-giving. Me, I’ll be sitting around my dinky apartment with afrozen pizza, thinking of things I wish I couldbe thankful forto be known asMr. Salma Hayek heads that list Ikid you not, ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.)
