Intermezzo: But Not Really

Once upon a time there was a boy named Joe the horny

He had miles and miles of files

He listened to Miles Smiles while trimming his piles and visiting the Rials

until one day, he died.

Poor Georgina, his widow...

...

...was a whale.

In that, she was blubbbery.

Not as in a disparaging denotation for an obese person

No, she really was a whale.

She had large quantities of blubber and was quite proud of it

Joe the Horny liked folds of skin

so it was okay with him.

He could spend all day molding Georgina in his hands, and it was soothing for her.

Suddenly John Scot burst in with a fishing rifle!

Which, is code, of course, for...

https://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DEEX59Qd2GcA&h=7AQHe0Pvy

THis is better though

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"Haven't heard this in ages" thought Georgina as the song blasted from loudspeaker s on the shore

Let them eat cake, but give me buttered toast!

Declared Carolyn the Pig, John's former mistress, as she waddled onto the shore.

Carolyn the Pig wasn't actually a pig, that was just her title.

She took off her wet pink cat hair sweater and let her hard goose bumpy skin shimmer in the sun. Then she snorted and ate some cupcakes mixed with truffles.

it may seem odd for a Chinese Crested to wear a cat hair shirt, but that was just how Carolyn rolled.

It took a long time to remove.

For Joe, that is. Carolyn couldnt remove I at all.

https://youtu.be/KiDD0o8nWCQ

Carolyn wanted to get wet, so she rolled over the edge of the pool into the water and vomited marshmallow mixed with cupcake/truffle mixture all over Joe the Horny, who of course got kinky wit it

 

As Joe's last name was Kurtz, the pool attendant watched and turned to the hot dog stand cashier to ask: "Mr. Kurtz? Isn't he dead?" 

"The Horror." out of the steamy dark jungle the voice came

"The Horror."

Joe smirked.

"Yeah, he's dead"

said Joe, "but he'll keep for a few days. Anyway, the whale likes it."

"But he's - but you're -" stammered the pool attendant, and her brain promptly short-circuited.

For she was but a robot, as all other beings were around Joe. He was trapped in the Piers Anthony book Race Against Time.

But nobody had read it, so all the robots died.

Mainly the pool attendant robot.

The drugs took effect, and Carolyn rolled up out of the pool like a film in reverse. Joe blinked, and his blink started skipppppppint

skipping

He finally stopped blinking, and blinked.

"It must be the Negativeland," he said, "i'll turn it up."

Now let's turn it on and see if the record changer is working there.

"There, that oughtta fix it."

Yes

Georgina had a music request.

byooiinnng

Carolyn did too.

https://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DSmW17QvUhRM&h=7AQHe0Pvy

HEY THAT WASN"T IT

screamed Georgina

who had a crush on the whale from Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

and still thought Fugazi were the punkest thing ever

"Speaking of HGTTG," interrupted Bob,

"I'm going to write another chapter of JOE wherein the number 43 is discussed with Lemmy and Cat"

Then he grinned like a character in a David Lynch experimental film

Which is to say, a tad scary and very unnervingly.

Your turn

[AN ANIMATED GIF OF JIMMY KIMMEL HOLDING BOTH THUMBS UP SCREAMS ACROSS THE SKY. IT HAS HAPPENED BEFORE, BUT THERE IS NO WAY TO LINK TO IT NOW.]

Candace wandered past the pool admission counter, neglecting to pay. "I demand my Bechdel Rights!" she shouted - but good-naturedly.

She stretched lazily, like a character fresh out of the freezer.

A nearby scuba diving mask named Jeremy turned violet and hollered.

"CAMA-GO SHITSA DUMUNGA KO"

Joe looked askance at it and continued with his task at hand.

Candance was from another story, but not.

Candace sauntered up to the pool attendant, who was not sitting in a pool chair to recover from the ongoing onslaught of surrealism. And who hopefully still existed. "You got a name?" asked Candy.

was sitting*

The pool attendant, being a short-circuited robot, did not reply, but Mama Brain did, through a combination of elemental sorcery and Radio Shack electronics,

and the help of Jose, who had finally stopped playing Trans Pac when he had to shit.

"My name is Coco," spoke Mama through the robot pool attendant. She wasn't quite willing to reveal her true name yet to a random stranger that she was just messing with.

"I come from Acapoco," she continued,

Candy stopped. She'd heard this before.

Somewhere...

John Scot was waking up, having passed out when he snagged his fishing rifle on his bootlace and shot his pinky toe off.

"Good day, sirs and madams," he began. Candy shot a nasty glance at him and turned back to the robot.

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"You like to waterski, Coco?" asked Candy.
"Not really, I get really nervous. I'm not very waterproof," answered Mama-Coco.
"No way! You're a gyndroid? That's SO AWESSOME!!"
"Y--yyeah. I don't like to talk about it much though."
"Well it just so happens that I'm a roboticist, and you're about to get the waterproofing of your life!"

"Yes Rocks!" said Mama-Coco, "Make with the proofifying!"

Candy didn't have any tools or materials on hand, so she had to raid the pool's maintenance supplies and water filtration systems. "Sorry," she muttered in the general direction of the remaining pool staff, who were unable to respond because nobody would write about them.

Plus they were mainly robots and the recent short circuit had knocked out most of their mother boards. Joe was humping the humpback and not paying any attention.

"Hey, wanna put on some tunes?" said Mama-Coco. Mama was getting a pretty good hang of Coco's actual personality, which was relieving for her, because she HATED being fake.

"Sure, yeah!" said Candy distractedly.

https://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D34u_3Z9_LUw&h=7AQHe0Pvy

Mama-Coco had been looking for Candace for a few weeks. After she was rescued from Pennybagswise and his ballooney corpse floated down and was dragged off and shoved in a dumpster, there was much partying and celebrating and frankly, the night became a bit of a blur.

The next thing she knew, it was the next day, and Mama Brain had woken up in bed next to a Mexican biker with a bad tattoo of a parrot on his chest.

She really needed to unwind and have some girl time.

And this was it.

https://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3D6-OWCI3HK84&h=7AQHe0Pvy
But now here she was, talking to her beloved Candy through a dead robot.

"For she had just remembered that Candy was not a complete stranger, but beloved," said Anal Man, doffing his "John Scot" disguise.

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It was quite a hangover.

"I'm not keeping up with all these videos!" raged a discarded pack of Camels next to the trash can.

"And man, that ain't no joke," said the piece of lichen, "You could disappear in smoke."

"The first thing I want to point out to you is the need to connect to your customers in a new way," chatted Candy as she and Coco prepared to strap on their waterskis.

"Whaaaat?"

"Oh, sorry, that was just an ad. I'm sponsored nowadays."

"Oh."
"Try to separate yourself from the pack, make YOUR brand stick out by cross market-- oops sorry there I go again..."

The boat took off. Holographically, of course.

"Are you sure YOU'RE not a robot?" said Mama-Coco quizzically.

Candy first rejected the idea out of hand, then grew unsure. Stupid newfound friend overturning her unspoken certainties!

They got accustomed to the bouncy clips of the waves and their legs grew used to the stress, and wallah they were waterskiing!

(voila)

Candy blushed. "Uh... no homo... but they did a REALLY good job on... you know."
Mama-Coco blushed too. "Uhh... thanks."
It was a gorgeous day and their eyes soon turned to the skies and the spray. Rainbows formed among the splashes of slightly vomit-polluted water.

It smelled faintly of marshmallow and Arthur Fonzarelli brand cologne.

It may have been a dream, thought Candy.

A Cessna flew by to skywrite a big-ass "LOL".

Jose, thought Mama-Coco.

"Candy," she said.

"Yeah?"

"I actually... know you."

"What do you mean? I've never seen you before."

"Yeah, I'm actually not in control of me... I just robot died a while back. Sorry for fooling you."

"WHo are you, then?" incredulously inquired Candace. She imagined some 44 year old perv just wanting to go skiing with--

using a robot to-- the thought disgusted her.

'Luke, she's your sister?" screamed the boat.

A pair of gadgety arm extended from the boat and it donned a top hat and burst into song.

arms*

"I am a rowboat and I'll sing this song

I, rowboat, will sing, and you'll sing along!

I'm your doctor" -

"OW! Stop hitting me!" the boat cried, as every character in the vicinity began attacking it to make it stop singing.

"Anyway, yeahhhh, this is Sis."

"MAMA J!"

"But you really-- Where are you really!? I woke up all the way over in Hoboken with a gandydancer and a midget guitar luthier.

And you were gone!"

They went over a little waterskiing ramp and over a couple sharks in the water and landed on another little ramp and back down into the water. The boat muttered to itself, its feelings hurt.

Bob yawned in the Co-Creator realm, sorry that he had to go to bed soon.

Erik, sitting bare-chested and cross-legged on his bead, swabbed sweat from his right armpit, then sniffed it. "Why the fuck do I always do that?" he wondered for the millionth time.

Mike Myers stuck his head in as the Austin Powers character and said in a bad British accent "But we all love our own brand, don't we?" and farted.

Mama Brain went into the tale of the rest of the night that she could remember and got to the most important detail, where she was currently.

"When did Mama and Candy last see each other?" whistled the pool filter.

The piece of lichen twitched.

"I think in the department store, they were reunited after they beat Pennybagswise, then they all went out partying" improvised the lichen,

"But I thought we were a billion years in the past, in 2013?" mumbled a homeless man who had wandered in now that nobody was staffing the pool entrance.

I mean, the original 2013?

"Wait, WHAT year is it again?" mumbled the lichen. "I'm so high."

"Wanna get high? Again?" asked a nearby towel hopefully.

"Oh you betcha!" chimed in the pool filter.

"She was talking to ME!" snapped the lichen.

"Oh, we can all get high," chirped the towel. He and the lichen plopped down next to the pool filter since it was, yknow, immobile.

A variety of herb was dumped out of trash bags, on the tiles next to the pool. Some got wet. They set about cutting it all up with scissors.

The wet weed smelled pretty dank.

Then the pool boy, one of the only robots still functioning brought out a set of giant Cheech and Chong brand papers the size of a double bed sheet. "I hate sheets, cuz they make me mad!" screamed the lichen.

The four of them broke into a barbershop quartet, singing "I Hate Sheets" by BobbenAirick.

"Available on cassette and 8-track!" shouted Candy.

Joe showed up, covered in Whale spoo.

"IT'S SO GREAT TO BE UNDEAD!" he whispered.

"What year is it?" asked the pool filter.

"Are you high?" taunted the lichen. "Anyway, it's 2013, except there's robots and shit."

It paused, lost in thought, for two minutes.
"Uh... Wanna get high?"

"Yeah, we gettin' high," said the towel. It was almost done with the blunt.

"Me first first!" shouted the lichen, and lit up. It burned up immediately, because it was a piece of lichen.

Bob fell asleep, and then his computers battery died.

He couldn't find the plug.

"Hey, we should plug this into the blog!" said a piece of ash that used to be lichen.

"Good work, team!" said the boat.

A paper moon and paper stars on strings fell down from the sky and bounced in mid-air.

Period.

G'night! 🌙