Nov. 09, 2009

Continued from Chapter 7: Fun Park

Francis says, "Ohshitohshitohshit!!"

Thomas says, "Fuck!"

Francis continues to say, "Ohshitohshitohshit!!"

Thomas says, "Okay, we gotta buffalo. I've got a bike. Anyone need frontsies?"

Francis says, "Ohshitohsh- No, I've got my Schwinn."

Sabina says, "Thanks to my years of underwater hockey, I can outrun a police car!"

Francis says, "FUCK YOU!!"

There is some movement, as people move. The police sirens are getting louder.

Theresa, from farther away, says, "Anyone riding to 7th? I'd sure like some company!"

Thomas says, "Yeah, I'm headin' that way."

Theresa says, "Great. Let's go!"

Francis, from a distance, yells, "Bye, suckers!"

Gully says, "Wait, wait. What about us?"

Wait... what about us? What is even going on here?

Thomas says, "Listen, I only got room for one."

Theresa says, "Let's go!"

The police siren (oh, it's just one apparently) is now officially impending. I should be doing something here other than standing and doing nothing. I should have some kind of traveling trap door, so that I can just take off my helmet menacingly and then crumple into it and into safety (and then maybe a remote-controlled car?).

Gully says, "Well, we... we came..."

Thomas says, "Okay. We gotta run. Sorry, kids!"

Gully says, "Wait!"

I say, "Uhh... I gotta stay here with my car..."

Gully says, "Okay."

Thomas says, "Get on! We gotta water balloon!"

Gully runs off, and soon there are the sounds of wheels trailing away, just as a police car drives up. It flashes its headlights squarely upon me, so I can see, if it's possible, even less than I could when it was so dark. My eyes shut instinctively, start watering like Old fucking Faithful, and refuse any order (threatening or otherwise) to reopen.

Someone yells through one of those megaphone thingies, "Police! Put your hands up where we can see them!"

It sounds kind of like a dog barking repeatedly that just coincidentally forms semantic English. It sounds like the police in "Cops" sounds... I assume. Which, I mean, maybe if I watched "Cops," I'd be more of an authority, but since I'm not a... stereotypical... ... Who the Hell even watches "Cops"? I mean, is it even on the air anymore? Do-

The megaphone says, "Put your hands in the air, NOW!"

Shit. Oh, God. I put my hands in the air. I feel like one of those kids who was caught sticking her nose in elementary school, or... you know, high school.

The megaphone says, "Wait... Is that Rose?"

Huh? I say, "Uh... Yes...?"

Do I know any cops? Did... is this part of the anti-life I live when I'm unconscious?

The megaphone says, "No shit! Holy crap!" and then there's the sound of a car door opening and then slamming shut.

I'm finally starting to be able to open my eyes, and the figure that is approaching me does actually look familiar. It looks like the amorphous, kind of purplish mass that was my Group Hug. Oh, man. It noticed that I left is half finished. Of course it noticed. I probably insulted its family, probably its family of magically cursed drinks, who were all about to be free of their curse, but then I didn't finish The Old Huggerator, and instead, he turned into this, like, giant monster, with only enough sentience to allow for an unquenchable blood thirst and... the ability to pretend to be a cop. God, I bet that cop has already been Group Hugged. I bet there are bones in that car, crushed into ash, leaving only a spouse and a young child to learn of the catastrophe tomorrow, and for the child to then become a different kind of monster, a psyc-

The un-megaphoned-voice says, "Rose! God, it is you!" and it does sound familiar, like murder, "I gotta say. I was pretty freaked out, walkin' up here, 'case it wasn't you at all, just a Rose-a-like. You know? God!"

I finally open my eyes, and wipe away the tears. The figure in front of me emerges from his fog to reveal... Wait, Mickey P's a cop?! What the fuck?

I say, "Holy shit, P. You're...?"

Mickey says, "Yeah, fuck?, right. I mean, shit?, right!"

I say, "You're... less articulate than you..."

Mickey says, "Oh, man. No kidding, Rose. Not even a bit."

I say, "So..."

Mickey says, "Just all that dope, you know? I'm just like a Old fuckin' Faithful, you know?"

I say, "..." (or at least try to convey this message facially)

Mickey says, "Blow, baby, blow!" He laughs.

I say, "What happened to The Noodle Ice?"

Mickey says, "Oh, the euj. Hal's gone all batshit crazypants. He's into this whole heavy metal gig now, just gets on stage and screams like the arcade. Freaks everyone to peanuts."

I say, "Oh, man..."

Mickey says, "Yeah, man is right. Man should be locked up. Drove everyone out. Fans, managers, our traveling mime. Finally, I had to squelch that fucker and do a reality binge."

I say, "Shit..."

Mickey says, "Yeah, shit is right. Shit on him, shit all over his face."

I say, "... yuck..."

Mickey says, "Yeah, so anyway."

There's a pause.

I say, "So, hey, what're you doing out here anyway?"

Mickey says, "Eh, report came in swearing here to Russia that there was a bit of the old crast going on here tonight. There's been a real riff in these parts lately, you know? We had to scope."

I say, "Yeah, well... I mean, as you can see..."

Mickey says, "Yeah, not a crast in sight, but, Rose, what the Hell you doin' here all lonely and blacked-out anyhow?"

I say, "I... was... out."

Mickey says, "Out...?"

I say, "On a drive."

Mickey says, "And you figured, wrong part of town is the Queen 'lizabeth of places to stop?"

I say, "Well..."

Mickey says, "Come on, Rose."

I say, "I mean... it's not like... relaxing outside... at night... is illegal or anything, is it?"

Mickey says, "You really wanna test your luck on what I know and what I ain't, Rose?"

I say, "I... no, I mean, you're..."

Mickey says, "No, seriously. Shit. I don't have any fucking clue. I'm Mr. Boddy up here half the time."

I say, "Yeah, well, I really don't think it's illegal."

Mickey says, "Yeah, you're prolly right. Listen, let me just get your figures, and I'll ook a deet on out of here."

I say, "My name?"

Mickey says, "Yeah, you know, 'case you show up all guilty later up, we gotta have a president."

I say, "A, prec..."

Mickey says, "Like, you're all 'Threat Park is my nighttime castle!' and we keep running on up here, well, Ol' Alex could get you for loitering, or go bonfire on his own place and screw it up on you." A pause. "It's just for records."

I say, "Okay." Fuck. I give him my name and address. I tell him that I'm single. I give him my birthdate and my eye color. I tell him my great grandmother's maiden name.

As he leaves he yells, "Hey, give my Howsitgoings to ol' Brucey, will you?"

I say, "Uhh..."

He says, "Catch you in Philly!" and gets into his car.

I do the same and drive home.


I have this dream of Alex the mysterious no-toothed man who owns Support Universal Health Care (If You Want Your Children to Live!) Fun Park, doing a dance as Mickey P tells him about that loitering girl who's now to blame for everything. It's a jig, really. There's a banjo. Mickey P is playing a banjo. With his feet.

Alex says, "Oh, finally! My desire to be reborn through a holy pyre has only been mitigated by my fear of incarceration and financial ruin!"

Mickey P says, "Yack, yack, yack!"

Alex says, "But, now, fate lifts me up and delivers me unto my new life."

Mickey P says, "Yack, yack, yack, yack!"

Alex says, "The image of the bringer of salvation becomes you, old friend."

Mickey P says, "Yack, yack, yack!"

Alex says, "This time tomorrow I will have begun a quest, a mission to live life as it was meant to be lived, or, better, as I have meant to live it. I will ooze into every conversation without a moment's difficulty and suddenly find myself surrounded by friends. I will devote all my time to my own improvement, until I have become so accomplished in every capacity that learning itself becomes second nature, that whenever I am confronted with a new situation, my cortex immediately opens itself up and soaks in everything there is to soak, that every new event reveals itself to be nothing but another occurrence of an infinite pattern, similar to hundreds of events I have experienced before and as such both unfathomable in its universal fabric and never a concern for worry or fear. I will never worry again, because all that can come to pass is the end of a life well-lived or more life to live well, because I have been granted permission by fate to explore the human condition to its depths, and I have discovered that worry is useless in the face of our individual beauty, and that it is only collectively that we become monsters, and I alone am alone, and I alone can experience humanity in its abstract form."

Mickey P says, "Yack, yack, yack,yack!"

Nov. 10, 2009 →


  1. (Untitled)

    Nov. 13, 2009, 10:42pm

    This is hilarious. The bat shit crazy pants was my favorite part. Actually it might be tied with the reference to the trap door in Indiana Jones.

    But all of it made my heart Riverdance with frantic glee. In fact, I'll probably blackout soon from overexposure to happy feelings.

    Anyway, keep up the good work!

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