Splotchy’s Virus Continues

i have become infected with a virus that started with Splotchy, wherever it is Splotchy lives, and has made its way to me here in South Dakota, where people willingly share viruses, but frequently attempt to deny that sex exists. at least, the religious ones do, anyway. but i digress, which is a particularly exceptional talent of mine. a pity, that, no?

at any rate, here i sit with a virus at my fingertips, courtesy of Jess Wundrun, who got it in turn from Enriched Geranium who contracted it from Dr. Monkey von Monkerstein (no doubt during one of his $1,000-per-plate campaign dinners), who got it from FranIAm, who apparently picked it up from Splotchy during that all-night binge-fest with the “foreign exchange” students, if you know what i mean, wink-wink, nudge-nudge.

seriously, i have no idea where all that just came from. my doctor would probably say that i drink too much caffeine, though. last time he told me that, i jumped up and beat him with his stethoscope.

but i digress….(told you so!)

I woke up hungry. I pulled my bedroom curtain to the side and looked out on a hazy morning. I dragged myself into the kitchen, in search of something to eat. I reached for a jar of applesauce sitting next to the sink, and found it very cold to the touch. I opened the jar and realized it was frozen. (Splotchy)

“That’s strange,” I said out loud to no one in particular. My fingers slowly reached towards the jar again. My body experienced a wave of apprehension as weighted blanket covering me as I did so. The jar was completely frozen. I picked it up and stared at it, my fingers stung with little knives of chill. “What the…” again I spoke aloud. Then I realized what had happened with a shock. Suddenly the jar flew from my hand. It shattered creating a collage-like mixture of frozen applesauce and glass shards on my kitchen floor, the lid lazily rolling to a stop across the room.(FranIam)

She flicked the lid with her massive big toe. “So, I guess I’ll be having another Camel for breakfast and you’ll be having a breakfast date with the Electrolux.” She lit her Camel cigarette as she turned to open the closet door where we kept the vacuum. “In case you’re wondering how the applesauce got frozen, I seem to recall you insisting that I stick it in the freezer before we went to bed last night.” She pushed the Electrolux at me and it squooshed through the rapidly unfreezing applesauce and the glass shards. “This kind of crap happens all the time when we go drinking with the Brazilians.” (Dr. Monkey)

Suddenly, the front door erupted in an explosion of wood splinters. “Jesus in a bucket! They’ve found me!” I thought as I dove out the kitchen window. My experiments with frozen applesauce, Camel cigarettes and Electrolux vacuum cleaners were supposed to be a secret, but, apparently, they weren’t as secret as I had thought. What would happen if the formula fell into the wrong hands? All my work, for naught! Who had leaked the information? Was it her? Or possibly one of the Brazilians? “Now the damned Department of Homeland Security will ruin everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve!” was the last thing that went through my mind before I was surrounded. (Enriched Geranium)

Totally surrounded, I might add, by secret service agents. A childish gray-haired man stepped between them. He walked as if he were hiding an eight ball in his trousers. Stepping nearer I saw an actual eight ball, (pool table, not drugs) fall out his pant leg. Bruised, a little bloody and a lot confused, I still thought “some guys just can’t deal with their shortcomings”.

“Where’s Pickles?” short and arrogant demanded of me.

“Pickles?” First Brazilians, now pickles, Camel cigarettes and an electrolux? Sweet jesus on a popsicle stick help me make sense of this.

“I know yer shaggin’ Laura. She said you’re into the brazillians . I’d have ta be preznit for another eight years before I had brazillians and brazillians of dollars”. He looked sad. “I bet she tried her erotic applesauce trick on you.” Eeugh. She did try the erotic applesauce trick on me. But I didn’t know I was whispering sweet nothings into the ear of the First Lady. In the snowdrift outside the kitchen window he saw the Camel butts. “Camels! Ha! I knew she switched from Pall Malls for a reason. It’s you. Buddy, I have half a mind to punish you in ways you will never forget. (Jess Wundrun)

“Buddy, you have half a mind,” I responded dead-pan, surreptitiously checking my back pocket for my trusty old .45. It was still there. Warm, silent and deadly. Oh yeah, and unloaded. It’s rather dangerous to sleep with a loaded .45 in your back pocket, after all.

“Don’t even think about it,” one of the short guy’s henchmen barked. And I do mean, literally, “barked”. One of those kind of henchmen. “Toss it over here, you commie scum.”

I tossed at his feet, then did my best drop-and-roll, coming up with the short guy’s eight ball in my right hand. Pausing for a quick calculation of vastly improbable trajectories and velocities, I hurled the ball as hard as I could towards the edge of the countertop, from where it rebounded directly off barking-boy’s forehead and made a quick tour of the other agents, knocking them all out cold before coming to a rest at my feet. I stooped to retrieve it, then held it out to the short guy. “I believe this is yours, little man,” I said coolly.

“Whut? Naw, that ain’t mine. Why on earth would Ah put an eight ball in mah shorts?” He was obviously dazed—perhaps even bespelled—by my magical display of ball-tossing. What a poor, simple-minded little man. Completely helpless without his strings being pulled. Sighing, I made a decision. Perhaps it was being in the presence of the supposed Decider himself. Who knows. Anyway, I did it, and the doing of it was something that promised to change both our lives. “Well, let’s get going, sir. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Whut? It’s only 9:00! Ah don’t get mah spankin’ from Condee until elebbin!”

“No, not her. Someone else. Someone you don’t realize has secretly had a crush on you for years.”(Commander Other)

Tagging: NotSoccer Mom, Sorghum Crow, Hysterical Raisins, and Fairlane.

7 thoughts on “Splotchy’s Virus Continues

  1. Shit, I just now saw this. WordPress sucks about incoming links.

    If didn’t wander over here I’d never know.

    I’m on it. (The story that is, not PCP).

  2. Nice job getting the drop on Decider. I could not have foreseen this particular thread, but I like the way it is going. Perhaps we’ll have some semblance of American justice after all.

    And thanks for being infected!

  3. Splotchy: thanks! yes, these story memes take on lives of their own.

    Freidabee: i really just did all that so i could work in the spanking-at-elebbin thing. because i’m a sick bastard, you know.

    Fairlane: yes, wordpress.com-hosted takes its sweet time with comments. that’s one of the many reasons i jumped over to my own domain.

    Jess: thanks, but i had some funny writers to borrow from!

    FranIam: thank you. your part was fun, too. i just couldn’t deal with the applesauce thing. i don’t really like applesauce, sorry.

    now, everyone go read NotSoccer Mom’s and Fairlane’s continuances!