418. Showtime

I wondered into the living room this morning after daylight, and heavens, what a scene. My favorite chair was ready for something. What, I didn’t know. Near the feet of the chair was a small ice chest. On either side were tables full of snacks and a large bowl that we use to serve popcorn. Someone was in the midst of deep preparation.

That’s when he walked in carrying a full sack of “On the Borders.” He sat them on one of the side tables, and said, “Good Morning Mr. Big Dope.”

Yeah, you guessed it. There stood our resident alien, or should I say there stood the apparition known as “Arnold Awesome" the 18-year-old teen. The one so full of wonder. If you remember from the past, Arnold is a little slow on the uptake, but makes up for it in enthusiasm.

“C.W.,” I said, “What is this?”

“Getting set up,” said.

“For what?”

“The big show. Don’t you remember?”

Something struck a chord.

“It’s the night for that movie star Stormy Daniels to talk about her friendship with what’s his name?”

“I think his name is Donald Trump and I’m not sure that you would call her a ‘movie star.’”

“That’s what ‘Scratchy’ Coleclasure calls her. He says she specializes in promos.”

“No, that’s what the president specializes in. Hers is called ‘porno’ and it’s a bit, well, not much but a bit, different from what he does.”

“Scratchy says she’s gonna talk about giving him a head. Do think it would have been a real one or just a plastic model?”

 

She gives him a head. Then what? - C.W.

“I think we need to talk.”

“She’s also gonna describe giving him a ‘doggie style.’ That should be fun. Can you imagine all that orange hair done up like a Pomeranian’s? I hope she had enough hair spray when she styled him.”

“Have you and Scratchy been into his daddy’s stash again?”

“What does she mean by ‘an all’ and what does it have to do with a back door. Wouldn’t the President of the United States come in the front door?”

My knees began to get a little weak. “I think that’s a little too earthy for a teenager to know about,” I said.

“Oh,” he said, brightening noticeably. “Don’t worry, she says she always gave him a shower afterwards. She called it gol …,”

“Let’s let it go at that,” I said. “Now look,” I’m not sure this would be the best use of your time. Don’t you have some studying to do?”

“That’s just it,” he said. “This will be educational. She’s going to share with us the President’s views on missionaries, their style and everything. It may not last long. She’s said something about him being a one-minute man.”

“Have you mentioned this to my wife?”

 

I'm confused. She says one dull minute.
He says two, and they're great ones.
The show is called Sixty Minutes.
But she keeps mentioning 69. - C.W.

“I tried,” he said, “but she like went off on something about global warming.”

“Global warming?”

“Yeah, like hell freezing over and all that.”

“Oh,”

“You’ll watch it with me, won’t you?”

A voice pretty much roared from the next room, “Yeah, he will … the day Franklin Graham starts reading the Bible.”

I spoke clearly and firmly enough to be heard in the next room. “I’d never stoop so low as to watch a show about two creeps wallowing in filth.” I listened, and relaxed when I heard the baseball bat being returned to its holder.

C.W. raised his eyebrows, made a circle with one hand and pretended to hold a clicker in the other. He nodded a question.

I shrugged an okay. What the hell?


See also:

Delta Dreaming

All Hat No Cattle

Enjoy these at all? If so, order Big Dope's Book at Wattensaw Press, Amazon, or other book sellers. It will make him so happy. Also, click on an ad. It earns him a little and costs the advertiser, sort of a win-win.