Sorry, but we’re feeling a bit under the weather this week, so this week’s content will not be posted until May 20th.   Sorry for the delay and thanks for reading!!

Best Regards,

MW

WE’RE IN THE OFFICE OF DR. LAMONT TRIGGS, PSYCHIARIST.  Seated across from Dr. Triggs is Ian, an Iota.  The session begins now.

DR. TRIGGS:  So… Ian, I see you’ve decided to go against my advice and go ahead a get the body enlargement procedure.

Ian:  Yup, sure did.

DR. TRIGGS: Well… how to you feel?

IAN:  Honestly… not good.

DR. TRIGGS:   Elaborate.

IAN:  Well… like I was saying before… I thought that if I were bigger… people would start caring about me.

DR. TRIGGS:  And have they?

 

IAN:  No, they’re still saying stuff like… I don’t care one iota about this, I don’t care one iota about that…or I don’t care one iota about the other.

DR. TRIGGS:  And as an Iota yourself, how does that make you feel?

IAN:  As always… really small and insignificant… like I don’t even matter.

DR:  TRIGGS:  Yes, and hence, the underlying reason for your body enlargement procedure.  You’re trying to overcompensate for your previously diminutive size.

IAN:  Yes, but like you warned, it really didn’t matter in the long run.  You were right, Dr. Triggs.  I should have listen to you.

DR. TRIGGS: What you need to understand, Ian, is that you are now permanently part of an idiom that you have no control over.  And you have to accept that reality.

IAN:  An idiom?

DR: TRIGGS:  Yes, and for as long as you live, people are going to vent their frustration, displeasure, anger, and disappointment with expressions that will include you name.  But the most important thing to remember is that… none of this these situations are your fault.   None of this is your fault.

IAN:  You’re right Dr. Triggs, you’re right.  Why should I be an accomplice in someone else’s screwed up feelings or enmity?

DR. TRIGGS:   Exactly.

IAN:   Why should I have to bare the burden of someone else’s abject indifference, or casual and irresponsible use of an idiom?!

DR. TRIGGS:  Exactly. ( scribbles ) So… tell them to take your name out of their mouths.

IAN:  Yeah!

DR. TRIGGS:  No, tell them.

IAN:  Huh?

DR. TRIGGS:  Tell them!

IAN:  Take my name… out of your mouth!

DR. Triggs edges up closer in his seat to Ian.

DR: TRIGGS:  Tell them!

IAN:  Take my name out of your mouth!

DR. TRIGGS:  Again!

IAN:  Take my name out of your mouth!   Take my name out of your mouth!

DR.  TRIGGS:  Yes!

IAN:  Take my name… out of your motherfuckin’ mouth!!

DR. TRIGGS quickly slides back in his chair.

DR. TRIGGS:  Whoa, whoa!

IAN:  Oh, sorry, Dr. Triggs.  I got carried – I felt a breakthrough just now.  For the first time in my life I feel like I… matter.  ( revelation )   I think I’m cured, Dr. Triggs.  I think I’m cured!

DR. TRIGGS: Okay, breakthrough, cured or not, let’s not go all Will Smith up in here.

IAN:  Sorry.

DR. TRIGGS:  Next thing you know, you’ll want to go around smacking people in the face while their hosting the Oscars.  ( pointed )  Do you feel like you want to smack someone in the face while they are hosting the Oscars, Ian?

IAN:  ( thinks )  Not at all.

DR. TRIGGS:  Good… this is a real breakthrough, Ian.  Congratulations!

IAN:  ( thinks ) But… sometimes I do feel like… pulling up on your grandmother, who I understand is bow-legged, and that may be from riding too many horses, or it may be from riding too many men after they’ve dismounted from those horses, I don’t know.   Anyway… after they’ve dismounted from your grandmother, I feel like… and it’s just sometimes, it’s not all the time… mainly at night after the night time emissions are done, I feel like… I feel like slapping your grandmother in the face.

DR. TRIGGS:  ( points to the door ) Get out.

IAN:  So… same time next week?

 

DR. TRIGGS:  Yes.

 

THEND

 

 

 

   BIRD TALK

Up in the clouds, BENTO encounters a BIRD.  Let’s begin.

BIRD:  Hello.

BENTO: ( startled )   Hello… where did you come from?

BIRD:  From an egg… but I’m afraid I’d have to get into the whole chicken or the egg scenario in order to give you my whole history.  And I don’t think you want that, do you?

BENTO:  Probably not.

BIRD:  You’re new around here, aren’t you?

BENTO: You mean to the skies?

BIRD:  Yes, I haven’t seen you up here before.

BENTO:  That’s because, before this very moment, I’ve spent my whole life at ground level with the rest of the terra firma dwellers.  I’m test flying my new jet pack.  It’s going well so far.

BIRD:  Where did you get that thing, Acme?

BENTO:  No, Amazon.

BIRD:  Interesting, I didn’t think the rainforest area sold such devices, what with their surplus amount of precipitation.  Aren’t you concerned about corrosion and rust?

BENTO:  No, not-

BIRD:  You’re cute.  Are you married?  Is there a machinated terrafirma dweller down there who calls you baby in the wee hours of the night?

BENTO:  Huh, what… excuse me.

BIRD:  You’re cute.  You remind me of a cross between Denzel Washington and Robocop’s little brother.

BENTO:   Okaaayyy… thank you?

BIRD:  You’re welcome.  Have you ever been with a sparrow before?

BENTO:  What do you mean by that… exactly?

BIRD:  You know – like… in a sexual way.

BENTO:  Absolutely not.  That’s beyond my realm of consideration, ma’am.

BIRD:  Really?

BENTO:  Yes… really!

BIRD:  Then why do you keep looking at my breast feathers?

BENTO:  What?!  I did not look at your –

BIRD:  It’s okay, I’ll take it as a compliment.  I know I’m sexy and there’s nothing I can do about it.

BENTO:  Okay, whatever.

BIRD:  Tell you what… if you’re ever near Pine Street and Chester, I live in the tall oak tree with the redneck tire swing on it. You know the one?

BENTO:  I do not.

BIRD:  Stop by if you ever want to cross over to the avian side of the tracks.  But I’m gonna warn you… once you go sparrow, I’m gonna own your arrow.  You feel me?

BENTO:  No, no, and hell no!

BIRD:  Well, think about it.  And maybe I’ll show you who came first… the sparrow or the egg.

BENTO:  I’m out!

Bento ZOOMS away from the strange bird into the stratosphere.

 

THEND

 

 

  Total Eclipse Of The Eyes ( Part 2 )

MW, COURTNEY, BENTO, and ZERACODY sit, pondering the news that fish eggs have been laid in Courtney’s eyes.

BENTO:  You okay, Courtney?  You don’t look so good.

MW:  Yeah, your left eye is twitching and bubbling like crazy.

ZERACODY:  Could be allergies.

BENTO:  Courtney, are your eyes allergic to fish eggs?

COURTNEY:  Not to my knowledge.  I mean – prior to now, the only thing my eyes have had a reaction to is… paprika, wet sand, and smoke from a toaster hosting burnt focaccia bread.

MW:  Oh, burnt focaccia bread is the ultimate eye irritant!  Who are you telling?!

BENTO:  Wet sand in the eyes is no picnic either.

ZERACODY:  Which is ironic, because you’re most likely to encounter wet sand whilst on a picnic.

MW:  But nobody goes on a picnic if it’s raining.

MW, Bento, and Zeracody continue contemplating eye irritants while Courtney’s left eye continues to twitch and bubble.  And then…

MW: Now a twenty pound bass has got to be the ultimate eye irritant!

BENTO:  I think you’re in trouble, Courtney!

COURTNEY:  You’re right, I don’t have a fishing license.

BENTO:  No, I mean…

ZERACODY:  It seems to me that the long term implications of Courtney’s contemporary predicament have been lost in the moment.

MW:  What do you mean?

ZERACODY:  Well… right now Courtney’s got a rather sizeable bass protruding from his left eye.

BENTO:  Right… and it’s flapping around like one of those blow up advertisement character balloons in front of a used car dealership.

MW: And… frankly I’m in no mood to buy a used car after seeing something like this… or anything else for that matter?

BENTO:  What about a can of tuna?

MW:  Well, maybe a can of tuna.   But beware of the mercury consumption!

ZERACODY:  Which clearly you two have had too much of.

BENTO:  And your point, Zeracody?

ZERACODY:  My point… ( gestures to Courtney ).  Well… is Courtney destined to live the rest of his life as a pirate, or cyclops, or some other type of monocled fool?  That’s the question we need to be asking right now.

COURTNEY:  ( distressfully ) No, what we need to be asking…  ugh… ugh…. is how much is the fine for fishing without a license… which I do not have.  I thought I made that clear.  Are you guys even listening to me?!

BENTO:  Yeah, Bro, we’re listening.

Suddenly the bass disengages from Courtney’s left eye, flops along the grass, and jumps into a nearby stream.   Courtney calmly sits back on the bench, blinks his left eye rapidly, then takes a long, deep breath.

COURTNEY:  Oh my God, that’s a relief!

BENTO:  Yeah, no more bass in the eye.

COURTNEY:  No more fishing fines.

ZERACODY:  Let this be a lesson to you, Courtney.  Never look at a solar eclipse without eye protection.

COURTNEY:  Right. ( thinks )  You know… I heard somewhere that wrapping condoms around your glasses makes for excellent eye protection.

THEND

 

 

    TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE EYES ( Part 1 of 2 )

        A GROUP of friends are assembled on a park bench.  From left to right, they are MW, COURTNEY, BENTO, and ZERACODY.  Courtney has a dazed look about him, and the group is quick to address it.

 

BENTO:  ( to MW )  What’s the deal with Courtney?

MW:  This dummy looked directly into that eclipse last week without any eye protection, and he’s been sitting on this bench like this ever since.

BENTO:   ( to Courtney )  Courtney, is that true?  Tell me you didn’t do some dumb shit like that, did you?

MW: He can’t talk.  He’s in some kind of trance, or coma, or state of mental bankruptcy right now, because of the eclipse.

BENTO:  ( to MW )  Did you watch the eclipse last week?

MW:  Yeah, I watched it, but I used eye protection.

BENTO:  Sunglasses?

MW:  Sunglasses and I wrapped condoms around them just to be sure.

BENTO:  How’d it work out?

MW:  Good… except now every time I look into the sun I get an erection.  Is that weird?

BENTO:  Yeah, and that could be problematic at the beach.

MW:  Or near the window in the line at the all-you-can-eat buffet.

BENTO:  Oh yeah.

MW:  Did you watch it?

BENTO:  Yes, and like you I used eye protection.

MW:  Sunglasses?

BENTO:  Yup… and sunscreen lotion.

MW:  You put sunscreen lotion on the sunglasses?

BENTO:  No… in my eyes.

MW:  Did it burn?

BENTO:  Not really.

MW:  Sting?

BENTO:  Nope.

MW:  Make your eyes water?

BENTO:  Not at all.

MW:  Huh… seems like putting sunscreen lotion in your eyes would definitely cause problems.

BENTO:  Not if you spray a protective layer of WD40 in your eyes first.

MW:  Okay, now that make perfect sense, sunscreen lotion protection, improved range of vision, and a reduction in ocular squeaks.

BENTO:  Exactly!

Bento pivots his attention back to Courtney.

BENTO:   Damn, he looks really bad.   Are those blisters on his eyeballs?

MW:  I think so.  Either that… or they’re fish eggs.

ZERACODY:  Those are most certainly NOT blisters… nor are they fish eggs!

 

MW:  Well, what are they then?

ZERACODY:  Those are what I like to call… visionary memory sacs.

BENTO:  Visionary memory sacs?

ZERACODY:  Yes, it’s the optic nerve and the retinal ganglia cells reacting to a lack of visual stimuli.

BENTO:  Meaning?

ZERACODY:  Courtney’s optic nerve is working twice as hard in an attempt to process visual information.

MW:  Meaning?

ZERACODY:  His eyeballs are sweating.

BENTO:  What the f-?!

MW:  Nonsense, just because you’re blind doesn’t make you and expert on eyes.

BENTO:  Yeah, that would be like… a man with no hands giving advice on juggling.

ZERACODY:  Juggling what?

BENTO:  Bowling pins and chainsaws.

MW:  An axe, a tea kettle and a seven cufflinks.

ZERACODY:  Well, maybe not on that, but he could most certainly give advice on how to juggle a new career versus family, right?

MW and Bento look at each other, dumbfounded.

MW:  ( to Zeracody ) Whatever.

Bento gestures to Courtney.

BENTO:  What are we gonna do about this?

MW:  Rub some antiperspirant in his eyes?

BENTO:  Yeah, let’s put some roll on antiperspirant in his eyes.

COURTNEY:  I’m allergic to roll on antiperspirant.

They all look at Courtney.

MW:  Courtney, you’re back!

COURTNEY:  Yes.

BENTO:  Where’d you go, do you remember anything?

COURTNEY:  Not much. ( thinks )  There was the eclipse…

MW:  Right.

COURTNEY:  And then people coming and going… sunset… sunrise… sunset… sunrise.   But nothing out of the ordinary.

BENTO:  Okay.

Courtney thinks a bit deeper.

COUTNEY:  Oh, wait… there was that striped bass…

MW:  Striped bass?

COURTNEY:  …. in a tux…

BENTO:  In a tux?

COURTNEY …who walked up on land, hopped up on the bench… and then hopped up on my shoulder… and then onto my face…

ZERACODY:  On your face?

COURTNEY: … and laid tiny fish eggs in both my eyes.

MW, Bento, and Zeracody look at one another.

COURTNEY:  Other than that, my week sitting on this bench was relatively uneventful.

THEND

                  CROOKED CROOK

 

A group of CRIMINALS are sitting around a table plotting their next heist.  From left to right, they are Phil, Allen, and Jimmy.

PHIL:  ( to Allen )   Okay, Allen, after we get into the foyer, you’re gonna jimmy the lock on the door to the main room where the diamonds are kept.  Got it?

ALLEN:  Yeah, but I… I gotta question.

PHIL:  Okay, what?

ALLEN:  Are we still getting pizza?

PHIL:  Yes, after the meeting.  Anything else?

ALLEN:  Yeah.

PHIL: What?

ALLEN:  Why am I gonna be the one to jimmy the lock?

PHIL:  Because that’s what you do, you’re the lock smith.

ALLEN:  Yeah, but it would make more sense if Jimmy here… ( points to Jimmy) was the one to jimmy the lock.

PHIL:  It doesn’t work that way.  Jimmy can’t  pick locks.

JIMMY:  Yeah… but I’ve never really tried.  Maybe…

PHIL:  ( to Allen ) You’re gonna jimmy the lock, alright?  You straight now on what you gotta do?

ALLEN:  Yeah, I got it.  I jimmy the lock on the door to the main room.  Got it.

PHIL:  Right, okay cool.

Phil turns to Jimmy.

PHIL:  Okay Jimmy, after we get into the main room, you’re gonna open the circuit breaker panel with an Allen wrench and then shut off the power to the alarm system.  Got it?

JIMMY:  Yeah, got it?  Just one question though.

PHIL: ( sighs )  What is it?

JIMMY:  Yeah… it seems to me that it would make more sense if Allen would be responsible for opening the panel with the Allen wrench, and shutting off the power to the alarm system.  You know what I mean?

PHIL:  No, I don’t!  Because that’s not how this operation works.  You don’t get assigned to a specific job because the name of a tool or process related to that job just happens to be your name.   That’s not how this works!

ALLEN:  But why not?  It would make things a lot easier to remember.  My name is Allen, I do Allen wrench related operations.  Easy.

JIMMY:  Yeah, I’m Jimmy, and I should jimmy all the locks on our jobs.  It’s more straight forward and makes the operation foolproof.

PHIL:  Obviously not!

JIMMY:  What’s that suppose to mean, Phil?

PHIL:  Nothing, let’s just stick to the original plan, can we do that?!

ALLEN:  Okayyyy, calm down.

JIMMY:  Yeah, chill out, man.

PHIL:  Okay… ( deep breath )  let’s continue.

Allen and Jimmy refocus on the plan.

PHIL:  Okay, after the power is shut off, I’m gonna break the glass to the diamond case with a large Phillips screw driver.  That’s when you two-

JIMMY:  ( suspicious )  Wait a minute, hold, hold, hold on.   I see what’s going on here.

PHIL:  What?

JIMMY:  Why do you, Phil, get to use a Phillips screw driver to break the glass?

ALLEN:  Because his whole name his Phillip!

JIMMY:  It would make way more sense to use a hammer to break the glass, don’t you think… Phillip!

ALLEN:  Yeah, who uses a screw driver to break glass?

PHIL: I said it was a large screwdriver.

JIMMY:  Bullshit!  If you get to break glass with a Phillips screw driver, then I want to be the one to jimmy the lock.

ALLEN:  And I want to use the Allen wrench to open the panel and shut off the power!

PHIL: Will you two shut the fuck up!  I’m trying to run an operation here!  Okay, so I was randomly selected to break the glass with a Phillips screwdriver.  But, it’s just a coincidence.  No conspiracies or special selection, or insider trading going on here.  Can we just get back to business?

JIMMY:  Okay… back to biz!

ALLEN:  Okay.

PHIL:  Okay, now I’ve got a guy on the inside who is going to disable the back up power to the security guard elevator off the hallway to the main room.

ALLEN:  What guy?

PHIL:  Huh?

ALLEN:  What guy?

JIMMY: Who’s the guy, Phil?  Who’s the elevator guy?

PHIL:  Oh… it’s my uncle Otis.  He’s inside, he’s gonna disable the backup power to the elevator.  Any problems with that?

ALLEN:  Nope.

JIMMY:  ( suspicious )  Except there is.

PHIL:  What’s the problem, Jimmy?

JIMMY:  Well… Otis was the name of the man who invented the elevator.

ALLEN:  ( realizing )  Yeah Jimmy’s right!  The dude’s name was Elisha Otis, and he invented the elevator somewhere around 1856!

JIMMY:  This shit ain’t fair!  First, you, Phillip, and your Phillips screwdriver.  And now your uncle Otis and the Otis elevator.   This ain’t nothing but straight up nepotism, Jimmy, that’s what this is!

ALLEN:  ( to Jimmy )   I think you mean necrophilia, Jimmy.  Necrophilia.

JIMMY:  Huh?

ALLEN:  The word your trying to –

JIMMY:  ( to Allen )  Idiot, necrophilia is when people fuck dead people.

ALLEN: Naw…. I don’t think so, Jimmy.  That’s –

PHIL:  The word is nepotism, but it’s not!  I swear on my mother’s grave that these things are just a matter of crazy… coincidences.  I wouldn’t unfairly game this operation just so that me or my family members can have tools, machines, or responsibilities that are associated with our names. C’mon, fellas, that would make zero sense as far as efficiency and likelihood of success, am I right?

Jimmy and Allen look at one another.

PHIL: C’mon, guys, I’m just trying my damnedest to put together a foolproof plan that will make us all rich.  Trust me, there is no nepotism going on here.

JIMMY:  Alright Phil, we trust you.

Allen gives an approving nod.

PHIL:  Okay… any questions?

Jimmy raises his hand.

PHIL: Yes, Jimmy?

JIMMY:  Who’s driving the getaway car?

PHIL:  Don’t worry about that, I’ve got that covered.

JIMMY:  Yeah, but with who?

ALLEN:  Yeah, who, Phil?

PHIL:  My cousin will be driving the getaway car.  She’s reliable and has a good driving record.  No DUIs, no nothing.

ALLEN:  Your cousin?

PHIL:  Yup.

JIMMY:  What’s her name, Phil?

PHIL:  I think for the sake of security, it’s better if we didn’t get into that.

ALLEN:  What’s her name, Phil?

PHIL: Okay… her name is Chevelle.

JIMMY:  And what kind of car is she driving for our getaway?

ALLEN:  Yeah.. tell us, Phil.

PHIL:  It’s a… it’s a… ah…1976 Chevrolet… Chevelle.

JIMMY:  Son of a bitch!

ALLEN:  This definitely means no pizza.

 

THEND

 

 

 

 

 

 

                     CAKE LADY

A small birthday party is underway.  In attendance from left to right is MW, INDIGO, BENTO, ZERACODY ( a snake), and RUXTON, a King Kong nipple.  A LADY pops out of the top of a large BIRTHDAY CAKE and… here we go.

CAKE LADY:  Happy Birthday, BMW!

BENTO: ( to Cake Lady ). Wait, wait, wait… what’s going on here?  Who are you?

CAKE LADY:  ( to Bento ) Happy Birthday, BMW!

BENTO:  Stop… first of all, I’m not BMW.  That’s the birthday guy over there!  ( points to MW )

The Cake Lady turns to MW.

CAKE LADY:  Happy Birthday –

MW: I’m not BMW either… it’s just MW.

CAKE LADY:  MW?

MW: Yes.

CAKE LADY: You sure?

MW:  Pretty sure.

BENTO:  No offense to you ma’am, but why did the agency send you over here?  I ordered the birthday cake package with Heather in it.

CAKE LADY:  Well, yesterday, Heather got fired for selling cake batter and candles on the black market, so the agency sent over the next best thing… me.

BENTO: I mean, you kinda look like Heather… if Heather was born during the Dust Bowl era, and had coils showing through the tread on her tires.

CAKE LADY:  What are you trying to say exactly?

INDIGO:  You’re old!

 

MW:  Yeah… and somewhat haggard… despite your enthusiastic arrival.

ZERACODY:  And with rather large breasts that appear to be doing push ups around your ankles.  No offense, you understand?

 

CAKE LADY:  Well, I most certainly do take offense.  I didn’t come here to be insulted by a cadre of freaks!

ZERACODY:  Freaks? Hey, lady, you’re the one popping out of cakes looking like a rubber band titty tree.

CAKE LADY:  Shut your mouth!  You don’t know anything about me, you blind snake!

RUXTON:  I’m not blind, Lady.  In fact, I can see far better than most.  And right about now, I can see that this knee jerk surface pain that you are illustrating goes much deeper.  I’m I right?

CAKE LADY:  Yes, you’re right.  At this moment, I feel an abject level of shame that I’ve never felt before.

INDIGO:  Why, because you’re exposing yourself to female objectification?

CAKE LADY:  No, because I peed inside the cake.

BENTO: Uggg, that’s disgusting!

MW:  That’s sooo wrong!

ZERACODY:  I’m never eating yellow cake again.

CAKE LADY:  You thought the cake was moist, now you know why!

BENTO:  Damn, and I ate two pieces from the back!

INDIGO:  ( to Cake Lady ) You ought to be ashamed of yourself!  How long have you’re been doing this sort of thing?

CAKE LADY:  What do you mean?!

INDIGO:  Jumping out of cakes with assorted shenanigans and… why?!

CAKE LADY:  None of your goddamn business!  None of you have the right to judge me.

ZERACODY:  Let me guess… you’re only doing this to pay your way through school.

CAKE LADY:  Yes, I am!

MW:  Lady, you’re like… a million years old.  What are you talking about?  What type of octogenarian middle school that specializes in abacuses and long division are we taking about here?

CAKE LADY:  That’s none of your business, BWM, MW, and… double fuck you anyway!

MW:  Okay, fair enough.

The Cake Lady looks at Ruxton who’s been silent up until now.

CAKE LADY:  ( to Ruxton ) And you?

RUXTON:  Well… with all that being said… I think your nipples appear to have some abstract aesthetic value.  That’s only applicable in a non-mammary glandular type of setting, you understand.

CAKE LADY:  ( suspicious ) What… and why would you -?

MW: Because he is a nipple.

ZERACODY:  Yes, a nipple is he.

CAKE LADY:  What?

INDIGO:  He’s one of King Kong’s original nipples.

CAKE LADY:  What?  That’s nonsense.

RUXTON:  It’s true.  I popped off his areola when the big monkey hit the payment back in 1933.

CAKE LADY:  What?!  Nonsense… was right. You all are a cadre of freaks!  I should have known something was off when I saw WormHole Square as the address on the service request form. ( scowls )  Duces!!

The Cake Lady gives the peace sign and then sinks down into the cake.  After a moment, Bento climbs up and looks inside the cake.

BENTO:  She’s gone.

MW:  What?

BENTO:  Yeah, she like… vanished.

Everyone looks at each other, miffed.

MW:  Sooooooo, who wants some cake?!

 

THEND

 

 

 

                            THRIFT STORE COUCH

 

Bento and MW are perusing a thrift store, when a gravelly SOUND is heard coming from inside a grey COUCH.  Bento turns his attention towards the couch.

COUCH: ( to Bento ) Hey, Buddy… I like them sneakers.

BENTO:  What?

COUCH:  You… with the round head and the Iron Man junior varsity suit on… I like your sneakers.

Bento looks closer at the couch and sees two eyes staring out at him.

BENTO:  You talking to me?

COUCH: Yeah, Buddy, you most certainly fit my aforementioned description.

BENTO:  Oh…( concern ) are you okay?

COUCH:  Yeah, I’m goooood, thanks for asking.  How are you, Buddy?

BENTO:  I’m doing okayyyyy.  I’m mean- are you stuck inside this couch or something?  Do you need help getting out?

COUCH:  Getting out?

BENTO:  Yes… getting out…

The couch falls silent, its eyes continue to stare out at Bento.

BENTO:  …. of the couch.

COUCH:  Ahhhhh… you seem to have misappropriated my position, Buddy.

BENTO:  What do you mean?

COUCH:  I am… the couch.

BENTO:  What do you mean you are the couch?  From where I sit, it looks like you’re inside the couch.  As if you were sleeping on the couch at some point in recent time, and somehow got wrapped up inside the couch.  So… I’m saying if you need help getting out of there, here’s your chance.  If not… duces and truces to you.

COUCH:  I am telling you, Buddy, that I am an integral, physiological part of this furniture.  And that any attempt to dislodge me from its framework would result in a catastrophic calamity.

BENTO:  Meaning?

COUCH:  Motherfucka, I am the couch!

BENTO:  Okay… I’m done.  Did you really have to go all Samuel L. Jackson on me?   I mean- I offered to help you out of a predicament and this is the thanks I get?!

COUCH:  And I gave you a compliment and this is the thanks I get?!

BENTO:  What… what compliment?

COUCH:  I said I liked your sneakers.

BENTO:  Some compliment… generic at best.  I suspect some ulterior motive lurking inside that cushioned spring box of yours.  Am I right?

COUCH:  No, you’re not right!  And… how was your offer of help  beneficial to me in any way, shape, or form, when it would be like pulling my lungs out?!

BENTO:  You know what… fuck you!

COUCH:  No, fuck you, Buddy!

BENTO:  No, fuck you, and stop calling me Buddy!  Why do you keep calling me that?

MW has caught wind of the exchange between Bento and the Couch and has come over to see what’s the matter.

COUCH:  Because I heard this guy call you that earlier.  Is Buddy not your name?

MW:  No, his name is Bento.  ( looks around puzzled ) Wait, who the fuck am I talking to?

BENTO: ( pointing )  Nobody, except for this asshole inside this couch.

MW:  What the hell are you doing in that couch?

COUCH:  Minding my own fucking beeswax.  How bout you?

MW: Actually, I’m allergic to beeswax, so I can’t relate to that.  However, it seems to me, you would have to be one stupid, dumb ass to try to mind your own beeswax while stuck inside a couch.  I mean, there hardly seems like enough space in there to mind bees, let alone, wax.

COUCH:  I am the goddamn couch!

MW:  Okay, good enough.  ( to Bento )   You ready?  I can’t find anything in this thrift store I want to buy right now.

BENTO:  Yeah, I’m ready.

COUCH:  ( softens tone )  Whoa, whoa, whoaaaaa, fellas, don’t rush off all angry and irate now.  You know what… I apologize.  I apologize for acting so disrespectful to you gents earlier.  I was having a bad day, you know?  People keep flopping down on me and… earlier, an old man with a ninety- five year old colon sat down on me and farted into the middle cushion… right over my head.  And I just haven’t been my self since.  Let’s start over, what do you say?

MW and Bento look at one another and then agree with nods.

BENTO: Okay… I’m sorry I called you an asshole.

MW:  Yeah, I’m sorry.  I’m sorry about thinking that assholes are usually found on the couch, but in this instance, the asshole was actually in the couch.

COUCH:  You thought that?

MW:  Yup.

COUCH:  Wow, that’s pretty brutal.  You know – thinking about someone in that way.

MW:  Sorry.

COUCH:  Stripping them of their humanity.

MW:  I mean – does humanity really apply to this situation if you are the couch?

BENTO:  ( to Couch )  Your words.

COUCH:  I see what you’re saying, and that makes perfect sense.  But you know what would make even better sense?

BENTO:  What?

COUCH:  If you guys would buy me.  Take me home with you.  I don’t smell musty and I don’t have bugs, I swear!  I’m only 49.99!

BENTO:  I knew it, I knew it!  I knew you had an ulterior motive when you started off with that Buddy shit!

COUCH:  No, no, no, no, I really thought Buddy was your name, Benzo.

MW:  His name is Bento, Couch!

COUCH:  My bad, Bento.  I’m still light-headed from the fumes.  C’mon fellas, buy me, free me from this thrift store nightmare place I’ve been stuck in for ages!

MW:  Yeah, nobody wants you, Couch!  Nobody wants a musty, thrift store threadbare, bug infested over grown sofa, with a noxious level of accumulated fart dust imbedded in the cushions.  Accept it!

BENTO:  Accept it, Couch!

MW and Bento leave the thrift store.

COUCH:  I don’t accept that!  No, one day someone will take me home.  Someday I will be sat upon, relaxed upon, loved upon, and accessorized again.  And as the sofa Gods are my witnesses, I will exact my revenge upon you two fuckwits for insulting me!  I will have my revenge!

 

 

THEND

 

 

 

                         SPACE DEER CROSSING

A SPACECRAFT zips through outer space with two occupants, BENTO and MW.  A DEER CROSSING SIGN flashes by under their ship.  And then… BOOM, the space craft hits an object.

MW:  Hey, did you hear that?  ( listens )  What was that?

BENTO:  What was what?  I didn’t hear nothing.

MW:  No, it’s sounded like you just hit something… something big, like a moose or something.

BENTO: ( chuckles )  And what in the hell would a moose be doing up here in outer space?

MW:  I’m not saying it was a moose you hit.  I’m just saying it sounded like you hit something big like a moose.  It could have been something else like… ( thinks ) like a medium sized walrus… with whiskers and stretch marks under her flippers.

BENTO: And again, what would a walrus with – ?

MW: I don’t know – never mind. ( looks out ) Where in the hell are we?

BENTO:  According to my calculations, we should be about one half of a parsec south of the Andromeda Galaxy.

MW:  You sure?

BENTO:  Of course.

MW:  Well, I just saw a joint selling chicken boxes back there, so it looks like we might be closer to Baltimore than the Andromeda Galaxy.

BENTO:  That’s impossible.  ( checks dashboard gauges ). Oh shit.

MW: What?

BENTO:  I didn’t set the ship’s clock forward one hour for daylight savings time.   Our coordinates are all fucked up.

MW: Great, soooo…

BENTO: So…I have no idea where we are.

MW: ( exasperated ) Ideas?

BENTO:  ( thinks ) I could run an ultra high tech cross navigation beta simulation model, ah… with a retro-time stamp or…

MW: Or?

BENTO: Or I we could go ultra low tech and pull over and ask for directions.

MW:  Are you out of your fucking mind?  I just told you we might be somewhere near Baltimore City.

BENTO:  Baltimore isn’t that bad.

MW:  Really, do you not remember the last time we went through there?

BENTO:  Yes, and it wasn’t that bad.

MW:  Really?  First of all, what about all the those squeegee kids converging on our spaceship practically extorting us for money?

BENTO:  Yeah, there was that.

MW:  Yeah, and I got questions.

BENTO:  What questions?

MW:  How far is space from the ground?

BENTO: About sixty-two miles.

MW:  So, where in the natural hell do those squeegee kids get them sixty-two mile high ladders to clean people windshields?

BENTO:  I don’t know, Lowes maybe?

MW:  Or maybe… The Church Of Ladder Day Saints.

BENTO:  Yeah, that would be a tall order, or… ( looks out ) … maybe, just maybe, I just figured out a way to get us back home to WormHole Square.

MW:  How?

BENTO:  Look over there.

MW looks out to his left.

MW:  What the fuck?  Is that a moose?

BENTO:  It’s a deer.  Although a moose would be technically in the deer family, that’s a deer.

MW:  Yeah, well, whether sister, uncle, or second cousin, it’s that same deer you hit earlier.  I knew you hit something!

BENTO:  I didn’t hit that deer.

MW:  No, I’m pretty sure you did.

BENTO:  MW, if I hit that deer at the speed we’re traveling, it would be splattered all to smithereens, don’t you think?

MW:  Well maybe that’s some kind of super-modified deer.  After all, it’s surviving in outer space without a fucking space suit!

BENTO:  Yeah, there’s that.

MW:  Yeah, that… but tell me how that gets us any closer to getting home?

BENTO:  Well, that’s a white tail, deer.

MW: A super- modified white tail deer.

BENTO:  And they migrate to the south of WormHole Square during the mating season.

MW:  Okay.

BENTO: ( listens ) You hear that?

Music can be heard coming from the cosmos.

MW:  ( listens )  Yeah… is that Teddy Pendergrass I’m hearing right now?

BENTO: Oh yeah.

MW:  Are those…  ( looks closer )… are those burning candles out there?

BENTO:  Abso- fucking -lutely.

MW:  It’s deer mating season like a motherfuc-!

BENTO:  Shut yo mouth!

MW: Hey, I’m just talking about deer mating season.

BENTO:  So, if my calculations are right, WormHole Square should be exactly south of our present location.

MW looks down and sees a familiar landmark.

MW: Yo, Bento, there’s Indigo’s art studio!

BENTO:  Where?  Are you talking about that building with the adjacent blue neon, large phallic symbol protruding up in the sky?

MW: The dildo? Yes, that’s her studio.

BENTO:  Well… I guess outer space, black holes, and large, phallic symbols can mean only one thing.

MW:  WormHole Square!  You goddamn right, Bento.  You goddamn right!

Bento steers the spaceship south and the two head home.

 

THEND

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                        Dragon To Electric Mandate

MW, a WATER HEATER, and a DRAGON are seated in a living room.  The water heater’s name is Bobby, and the dragon is called Nathaniel. There is a bit of tension in the air.

MW: So… this new WormHole Square climate change mandate means you both have to convert to all electric by 2030.

BOBBY:  What, MW, the water’s not hot enough for you?  I don’t hear you complaining while you’re taking one of you twenty minute showers…whilst thinking about that girl from the club some years ago who told you she had two vaginas.

MW: I gotta stop thinking out loud.

NATHANIEL: Yeah, and stop using up all the hot water!  Cold showers make me sad.

MW: What… wait, how did you even fit into my shower?

NATHANIEL: Ergonomics and a feng shui.

MW: Well, stay out of my shower.  Why can’t you take a shower in a lake like other dragons do?

NATHANIEL: Because lake water is cold and full of bacteria, and you know I’m prone to conjunctivitis.

BOBBY:  And my underwear are prone to static cling when I get near electricity.

NATHANIEL:  And the turtles keep stealing my soap.

MW:  Well… stop dropping it.

NATHANIEL:  MW, you gotta stop this mandate.  I’m a fire breaking dragon.  How am I gonna convert to electricity? How?!

MW:  Look, guys, this new mandate has nothing to do with me.  This is a governmental sorta, kinda… type thing.

BOBBY:  Yeah, right.  I heard you run things around this place?

MW:  What place?

BOBBY: WormHole Square.

MW:  Not really.

NATHANIEL: MW, this is really going to have an adverse affect on my day to day dragon activities.

MW:  Not really, Nathaniel.  You’ll still be able to lay waste to villages, towns, and hamlets.  But after converting to electric, you’ll be able to do it in a much more climate friendly manner.

NATHANIEL:  Yeah right.

MW:  What about you, Bobby?  Don’t you want to do your part to combat global warming?

Bobby is skeptical, thinks for a second and the has a small revelation.

BOBBY:  Wait a second, here, MW.  Don’t you draw cartoons and stupid shit all day?

MW:  Yeah… but what’s with the… and stupid shit stuff?  What’s your point?

BOBBY:  You use paper right?

MW: Right… and?

BOBBY:  And paper is made out of trees right?

MW:  Right, and I know where this is headed.

NATHANIEL: So cutting all them trees down only makes it worse, because trees remove… helium from the atmosphere and then…

BOBBY: … And then the helium gets soaked into their barks and then… fluoride is released back into the atmosphere.

MW: I think you idiots mean trees remove carbon dioxide from the air and then release oxygen back into the atmosphere.

BOBBY:  Whatever!

NATHANIEL:  Yeah, whatever!

MW:  But your point is well taken.  So… I’ll make a deal with you guys.  If you agree to convert to electric, I’ll do my part as well.

Nathaniel and Bobby look at each other skeptically, and then back at MW.

NATHANIEL:  Okay, I’ll convert.

BOBBY: Yeah, fuck it.

MW:  Thanks, guys!  I thank you, the planet and future generations thank you.  And for my part… from this day forth, I’m gonna start using a solar powered pencil.

THEND