Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Millionaires, And Billionaires, And Babies

jm baby cute

OHMIGOD look how gorgeous you are.

“Thank you for saying so.”

Not you, jackass.

“Gotta admit my skin looks great.”

Can we concentrate on the baby? Where’d you get a baby?

“I got a baby guy.”

That’s not a thing.

“Sure. Guy’s name is Benjamin Babeez. 13-year-old kid from Boca Raton. You need a baby, and he gets you the greatest baby. Kid has great taste in babies.”

I don’t believe this.

“Sometimes, I’ll call and just know what type of baby I want: it’s a Mexican baby kind of day. But a lot of the time, it’s an Omakase deal. Omakase is a Japanese term meaning ‘Feed me the fish that’s about to go bad.'”

I know what it means.

“Kid’s amazing. Gets babies no one else can get you. He was the first to offer Zika babies. They are so hot right now.”

Dude.

“They are literally limited edition.”

CELL PHONE NOISE.

“WHAT? What did I say!?”

You live wrong.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“I’m not picking up the phone.”

Pick up the phone.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“I’m not picking up the phone.”

PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE, BOY.

“Did the baby do that?”

Yeah. Yeah, the baby did that. and next we’re going to learn that the baby is actually a werebaby, and you’re getting eaten. Pick up the phone.

“I didn’t ask for this.”

You did. You petitioned for a year to join the Dead.

“I meant whatever this is.”

Right, sure.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Fuck you.”

Sure.

“What?”

“Please hold for the President.”

“Well, that’s better than the alternative.”

“I have made America great again, John.”

“Or maybe not. Hey, President Katytuchas.”

“Don’t call me things in Yiddish, John. I have ascended to glory, and realized my true purpose.”

“And that is?”

katy perry white dress

“America needs a Queen, John.”

“Don’t you already think you’re the President?”

“All presidents thought they were the President.”

“Yes, but so did the rest of the world. That’s kind of what makes you in charge.”

“I am in charge, John. The nuclear football is safe. Also, I took the nuclear football out of the briefcase it was in and put it in a Birkin bag.”

“Ostrich?”

“No, those are for poor people. Mine are made from puma.”

“Wow.”

“So supple. And now the bag is as deadly as the animal it was made out of.”

“Poetry. Katy?”

“President Mrs. Katy Jean Hudson-Perry-Brand-McKay-Stamos, thank you.”

“I’m not saying that. Can I hazard a guess that you’ve reconnected with Doctor Gary?”

“Hold on, John. Jenkins! Get in here!”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Do the exposition for Doctor Gary.”

“The two-time Nobel winning chemist with terrifying racial theories and a voracious appetite for shoplifting that was drummed out of the Academy and now pays his massive gambling debts working as a Shaman to the Stars?”

“Yes, him. Good work, Jenkins.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Now get out.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“I’m the President of the United States, John: I can’t be expected to do the exposition.”

“Jenkins works for you now?”

“Doctor Gary is back, John! I have forgiven him for his many, many sins against me and given him a White House pass.”

“How’s that going?”

“He has moved in.”

“Yeah.”

“There is also something called a “Soup” living in the presidential limo.”

“Ignore him. Katy, you can’t let Doctor Gary live in the White House, if that’s even where you are.”

“I am the Leader of the Free World, John, and I live at 1600 White House Way–”

“Nope.”

“–and I have the Nuclear Birkin Bag, so if I want to let Doctor Gary crash in the Lincoln Bedroom, than that’s my prerogative. Although, he did immediately list the place on Airbnb.”

“Saw that coming.”

“He’s not a bad guy, John. Plus, he has created a new syntheogenadelic, the most American one yet. It’s called Bald Eagle.”

“What is it?”

“A juiced bald eagle. But we add fruit, so they’re like smoothies.”

“And that gets you high?”

“John, we brave spelunkers of consciousness do not ‘get high.’ We traverse the unknown realms of metapscyholinguistics, and perform evolutions of billions of hallucinogenerations in the blink of a dilated eye.”

“High as shit, John.”

“I got that. What’s it like?”

“Bald Eagle? It makes you so patriotic that you’re angry.”

“That is an American high.”

“Sure. By the way, the Russians hacked us again.”

“How many times is that today?”

“Continuously. The hackings were not discrete enough to count as separate entities. It’s been an all-day thing.”

“You should have someone look into that.”

“I do! The guy is working on the computer right now. He looks familiar.”

“Oh, Goddammit.”

kim jong un computer

“Who on phone? That Hot Dog Dick?”

“Who I’m speaking to is none of your concern, Mr. Computer Person! Do your job, please.”

“Okay, lady. I need your bank account number and launch code for nuke.”

“John, I have to go.”

“NO, THAT’S KIM-JON–”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

2 Comments

  1. Luther Von Baconson

    August 17, 2016 at 5:13 am

    is that K’s computer, or are K & Co re-creating Brent’s MIDI/BBQ?

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