Written by Theolonius McTavish

(c) Theolonius McTavish 2004. All rights reserved.

Seeking a spot of serenity somewhere inrepparttar universe, I recently booked a deep-discount dodgy berth onrepparttar 118174 ‘White Elephant Express Space Shuttle’, to a little known place in a galaxy far, far away.

“IT” (otherwise known as HD 36405.b) is not your average “oddball” exo-solar planet made of rock that wobbles on its end and zips around a nearby star in less than 2.46 days.

Most linear thinkers have a great deal of difficulty even comprehending why on earth anyone in their “right mind” would be interested in visiting a planet called “IT”. Not being a linear thinker with an investment inrepparttar 118175 “right” answer, I didn’t give a hoot. After all, what does one (who walks on water and listens to miffed mortals all day long) do for a frigging night off, now I ask you?

If truth be told, (after reading random excerpts from “The Itty Bitty Bunkum Book About Life,repparttar 118176 Universe and Practically Everything Underrepparttar 118177 Sun Not To Mention Stuff Going On In Remote Galaxies), I was simply delirious. According to its noted author, Dr. Jarn Leffer, “IT is a ’must-see’ for those with little time on their hands and a passionate interest in Innocuous Things.”

As planets go, “IT” is a pretty ho-hum celestial pit-stop with perhaps one exception…repparttar 118178 welcome notice that reads, “Cosmic Cowboys - Welcome torepparttar 118179 furthest unexplored outreaches ofrepparttar 118180 Galaxy … Home torepparttar 118181 Flop Fairy and Oodles of Gadflies!”

“IT” is populated by colonies of giggling, green grasshoppers . What else would you expect to inhabit a far-flung, fantasy-challenged hellhole like this? But, what made “IT” strictly speaking a strange place wasrepparttar 118182 fact thatrepparttar 118183 inhabitants munch on green, biodegradable garbage bags just for fun. Lacking masticating capabilities,repparttar 118184 gadflies process their food by vigorously jumping up and down on it. No wonder they have no need for fast-food franchises, strip malls or landfills!

Waiting For The Cut

Written by Robert Levin

After "Waiting For Godot."

Two men, STEVE and HAROLD, both in their early twenties, and with long hair styles, are standing outside a small hair cutting salon on a sweltering August afternoon. The salon is closed. STEVE, after offering a cigarette to HAROLD—who waves it off—lights one himself and begins to pace.

STEVE: [Checking his watch.] I hate fucking Brooklyn. HAROLD: [Wipes his face with a balled-up handkerchief.] Brooklyn? I don’t know about Brooklyn. Brooklyn may not be as terrible as I thought it was. It’s hard to form an opinion when you’re rapidly losing consciousness. Jesus, it's like we're standing onrepparttar sun here.

STEVE: [Looking away.] Brooklyn’s where you have to wait for this jerkoff.

HAROLD: [Rolls his neck.] This isn’t what you meant when you said he always keeps you waiting, is it? He doesn’t pull this every time you come here? [Feels his wrist.] Dude, my pulse is gone! [Holds his head with both hands.] And my memory—it’s gone too!

STEVE: All of it?

HAROLD: No. I think justrepparttar 118173 last year.

STEVE: If it’s justrepparttar 118174 last year then you can still rememberrepparttar 118175 last time you got laid. [Peers downrepparttar 118176 block.] He’s never been this late before. He’s gotten much better at it. Shit, he ought to think about turning pro. [Looks at his watch again.] God, my WATCH is sweating.

HAROLD: [Calmed down. Wipes his face again.] I think they said last night that, factoring inrepparttar 118177 wind-chill index withrepparttar 118178 temperature-humidity thing, today would berepparttar 118179 hottest day inrepparttar 118180 history ofrepparttar 118181 world.

STEVE: [Distracted.] If they did they got it right. [Looks up and downrepparttar 118182 block.] It’s a goddamn hour. Where is this asshole?

HAROLD: Don’t quote me on that. Okay? I could be way off.

STEVE: [Shaking his head.] I wonder sometimes why I come here. I mean I probably should have mentioned something else:


STEVE: He can also fuckup. In fact, he can also fuckup in a major way. There was one fuckup that was actually beyond major, really spectacular—worthy of its own wing inrepparttar 118183 Hall of Fuckups.


STEVE: HE loved what he did. He was proud of himself. He even took a Polaroid.

HAROLD: Yeah? I don’t remember...

STEVE: You don’t remember because you didn’t see me for a month. I cancelled all my public appearances.

HAROLD: Wait. That was...? It was that bad?

STEVE: Put it this way: I would definitely have gotten mucho action—if it’d been 1964 and I had a cockney accent.

HAROLD: You looked like a Beatle?

STEVE: Early Ringo Starr.

HAROLD: Okay. I’ve got a statement and then a question. The statement is: Yeah, when you were bugging me to give him a shot and finally getting me to make this trip—which I never wanted to do because nothing I've seen of his work for you has blown my skirts up past my ankles—YOU FUCKING PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE MENTIONED THAT! The question is—and I’m anxious to have your wisdom on this before it’s too late, while your brain scans are still registering occasional blips. Do you figure I can find my way back to Manhattan by myself? The “3” train, right? What is it—four blocks this way, then hang a left?

STEVE: Let’s give him a little while longer.

HAROLD: Why? Damn. I was expecting an acceptable level of mediocrity. I thoughtrepparttar 118184 worst thing I had to worry about was getting wasted in a crossfire.

STEVE: Because speaking of “getting it right...”

HAROLD: You knowrepparttar 118185 barbershop inrepparttar 118186 86th Street subway station? It’s beginning to loom as a viable option.

STEVE: We’ll give him another fifteen minutes. Okay? [Looks at his watch.] Fifteen minutes. Exactly fifteen minutes. You can handle fifteen minutes, can’t you?

HAROLD: [Hugs himself and pretends to shiver.] My sweat just turned very cold. You ever hear of someone freezing to death in his own sweat?

Cont'd on page 2 ==>
ImproveHomeLife.com © 2005
Terms of Use