It was a late summer day and I was busy in my workshop when I heard voices outside.
“This way, asshole!”
“Screw you, dumbass!”
I didn’t even have to look. I knew.
“One foot in front of the other. What’s so goddam hard about that?”
“If your half of us just had a brain …”
Sure enough, in walked C.W. in one of his favorite forms, Lucky and Lefty the conjoined twins. I was puzzled though. The last time I saw them they had assured me that they would follow a more conciliatory path. Apparently they were in “full backslide.”
“Afternoon boys,” I said.
“Eat me,” said Lefty.
“Now that’s real cute,” said Lucky, then “What’s up Big Dope?”
I sighed. “What’s causing the problem now, boys?”
“Schizophrenia,” said Lucky.
“Dumbassophrenia,” said Lefty.
Lucky started to reply but I stopped him. I pulled a bench over and invited them to sit. “Now why don’t you tell me about it?”
“Your species is driving us batty,” said Lefty.
“Yep,” said Lucky. “Retard here got it right for once.”
“For example,” said Lefty.
“We watched a grown man talking to a chair on national TV the other night.”
It was true, and I could only grimace.
“And another grown man,” said Lucky, “said the way for the country to get out of debt was to cut revenue.”
They both stopped and smiled as if the point needed no further clarification. When I said nothing, they continued.
“And what is this obsession,” said Lefty, “with bringing about peace by waging war?”
“And don’t even mention sprinkling white shit on double-cheeseburgers to lose weight,” said Lucky.
What could I say?
“These men on TV were obsessed with two things we just can’t get our heads around,” said Lefty and he stopped to smile at his own joke.
“Asshole,” said Lucky.
“Ronald Reagan,” said Lefty, ignoring his twin.
“And invading Iran,” said Lucky.
“Ronald Reagan and …” I began.
“And Iran.” Lucky finished it for me.
“And?” I said.
“Don’t they remember that Ronald Reagan illegally sold the Iranians the weapons that they will be defending themselves with?”
“That’s ‘retaconockty,’ plain and simple,” said Lefty.
“That’s what?” I said.
“Oh,” said, Lucky. “It’s not something your species can do,” he said, pausing for effect. “It involves violating yourself with your own sexual organ.”
“Not a legitimate rape at all,” he continued, and then he smiled at his joke.
“This is all very interesting,” I said. “But I have work to do.”
“We ain’t done talkin’ about Bizzaro World yet,” said Lucky and he said it with a southern accent designed to irritate me. “We want to hear what you have to say about this man running for office who believes an angel gave a con artist some golden tablets and said ‘go start a new religion.’”
“And enjoy all the young girls you want while you’re at it,” added Lefty.
“You’re talking about the Mormons,” I said.
“Who else?” Lefty said.
|Sadly, this is the slogan for your world|
throughout the known galaxies. - C.W.
They both stared at me like I had broken wind during benediction.
“Asshole,” said Lucky.
“Moron,” said Lefty.
Well, they finally agreed on something.