Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: benjy eisen (page 1 of 6)

When The Swag Met The Benj

Benjy, you be nice to Swaggie Maggie.

“I’m the nicest guy in the world.”

She’s a sweet young woman who is just starting out in this world. Do not instigate foolishness.

“Dude, you’re talking to the wrong person. Watched her lift three wallets and pull a chick’s hair extensions out for eyeballing her.”

Swaggie Maggie?

“I’m pretty sure she’s carrying a knife.”

I’m ignoring you. What have you been up to?

“Talking to lawyers. I, too, am a victim of sexual harassment. I am a brave survivor.”

Benjy, Billy did not sexually harass you.

“It started small. I believe he was grooming me. Comments about my appearance. Waking me up with his sack on my face. He liked when I watched him brush his teeth. He would, like, tongue the toothbrush while making eye contact with me in the mirror.”

None of this occurred.

“At least once a week, he would tell me that I looked sick and take my temperature.”

“Not in my mouth.”

“Rect–”

We all get it, Benj.

“–ally. Okay. And, honestly? I don’t think it was a thermometer some of the times.”

It’s not right that you’re saying these things.

“We were out by the pool once, and he made me bounce my junk on the diving board.”

No.

“He called it Cannonballing.”

You are not telling the truth.

“On numerous occasions, Billy sicced the skank on me.”

You can’t sic skank.

“Tell that to the skank and my nipples. They were puffed out like cherries for a week.”

What did the skank do to your nipples, Benjy?

“I don’t want to talk about it. Hurts too much.”

You feel emotional pain over the incident, I understand.

“No, my nipples still hurt.”

Ah. Benjy, everything you’re saying is fake news.

“Da. Is fake news. Hello, Svaggie Maggie.”

Oh, no.

“Putin get svole for young chickiedoodle. Come to Putin, Svaggie Maggie.”

NO! You stay the hell away from Swaggie Maggie!

“Need new vife.”

Current one gonna have an accident soon?

“Da.”

You’re a monster.

“Monster vith pecs of steel. Putin vork chest and tris today, back and bis tomorrow.”

When’s leg day?

“I do leg day next veek.”

Typical.

“Svaggie Maggie vill be Putin’s new vife. She travel around vorld. Ve vill hunt, ve vill, dance, ve vill vrestle.”

Vrestle?

“You cant just change W’s to V’s across board. Must look at usage vithin vord.”

Sorry.

“Typical. Deliver me Svaggie Maggie for purposes of matrimony. She vill make good vife.”

I dunno about that. She’s kind of a pain in the ass.

“Putin vill train.”

OH, HELL NO. Get out of here.

“Excuse me? Can I interject here? Vladimir, I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Benjy Eisen. We’ve been in a couple of storylines togeth–”

thwip

FLUMP

“Da. I remember you.”

Goddammit, stop blowdarting people.

“Nyet. Now bring Putin Svaggie Maggie.”

“Hey, motherfucker. You think you’re a man with those little-ass fucking weights?”

“You on the little girl machine. Trying to build up your titties.”

“Are nyet called titties, Miles David. Are pecs.”

“Big fat white titties. Rub on them titties while I lift weights.”

“Putin have chest like Perun. Pecs made of thunder.”

“God of thunder’s name is Thor, you Trotsky-stabbing motherfucker.”

Guys? Would you mind knocking it off?

BANG!

thwip

Yeah, okay, neither of you can actually kill me. Listen: Swaggie Maggie has left, so there’s nothing to argue about any more.

“The fuck there isn’t. Bench press time, motherfucker.”

“Da. Putin get belt.”

I’ll leave you two to it.

Bowling With The Homies

Hey, Holly Bowling. Whatcha doing?

“Me? You have to bother me?”

Phil yells at me, Bobby has too much crap in his sweatpants, and Jim James kinda scares me a little.

“What about Ross James?”

The whole James family scares me. Beardos.

“Great.”

So, how you doing? I see you brought your hat.

“Leave the hat alone.”

Does it have a road case?

“Please stop talking to me. I’m concentrating.”

What are you playing?

“Dark Star.”

It’s just a jam in D minor.

“Please don’t say–”

The saddest of all keys.

“–the saddest…you’re so original.”

How’s that all-girl jam band coming together?

“It’s not. I’m very happy with my career, and I don’t need advice from you. Holy shit, do I not need advice from you.”

Oh, no. You’re right. I give terrible advice. You need a manager.

“I have a–”

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Where is that coming from? Bobby’s sweatpants?”

He really does have a lot of junk in there.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“I left my phone backstage.”

Check your hat.

“Stop making fun of my hat.”

I’m celebrating it. Check under your hat.”

“Yup. Phone.”

Told you.”

“You’re rolling with Bowling.”

“Great phone greeting, Holl. Perfect.”

“I know this rasp.”

“Holly, it’s Benjy Eisen in a chipmunk costume.”

“Where’d you get a chipmunk costume?”

“Stole it from Brent.”

“Why are you in a chipmunk costume?”

“Don’t worry about the chipmunk costume. This is not about the chipmunk costume. You’d look great in a chipmunk costume.”

“What do you want, Benjy?”

“I wanna take your career to the next level.”

“No, thank you.”

“Listen to my idea first.”

“What?”

“Jam-themed holiday album.”

“No.”

“It’s called Have A Holly, Holly Christmas.”

“Nooooooo.”

“What if I told you I could get you a sponsor?”

“A sponsor?”

“Absolutely. How do you feel about wearing a chipmunk costume onstage?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Is Billy there?”

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

“Can you leave me out of your little make-em-ups, please?”

I promise nothing, Holly Bowling.

“You suck.”

Do you consider your last name to be more of a gerund or a participle?

Holly?

Holly?

“HEY!”

Oh, hi, Phil.

“Fuck off!”

Your hair looks great.

“I know. Fuck off.”

Okay.

I Ain’t Gonna Work On Ja Rule’s Farm No More

LSD can’t kill you.

Killed an elephant once.

They gave the poor fucker three million times the proper dosage, and administered it intravenously.

Still dead.

Three million times the proper dose of anything is deadly. Remember your Paracelsus.

That stuff’s all Greek to me.

I see what you did.

Yeah?

CELL PHONE NOISE

Goddammit.

Benjy?

I kinda hope. Think of all the alternatives.

Sure.

Yello?

“TotD? It’s Benjy.”

Hey, Benj. You still at the Fyre Festival?

“You mean Benjytown?”

What?

“We’ve turned the island into a commune. Me and the survivors.”

Survivors?

“I won’t lie: there’s a shitload of dead white people here. Actually, you know, there’s parts of white people. There was a little bit–”

Of cannibalism.

“–of cannibalism. Yeah. More than a little bit, if I’m honest.”

Um. Benjy?

“I didn’t eat anyone.”

Thank God,

“I tasted a couple people, though.”

Why?

“It was the only gluten-free option.”

Benjy, please don’t start a commune on the ruins of the Fyre Festival.

“Already done, bro. We got the whole beach planted.”

Can’t plant on a beach, Benjy.

“Why?”

Like, a billion reasons.

“We’ll see when harvest time comes, won’t we?”

We will.

“Tonight’s a pig roast.”

One of those feral hogs?

“Sure, yeah.”

Benjy, is it long pig?

“I am going to level with you here: the cannibalism took. People got into it.”

Stop eating people and planting in sand, Benjy.

“Ja will provide.”

I’m just gonna pretend you were talking about God and not–

“No, Ja Rule.”

–Ja Rule. Dammit, Benjy, Ja Rule is not going to help you. Ja Rule is the reason you’re stuck on that island barbecuing trust fund kids.

“We are not barbecuing trust fund kids.”

No?

“Of course not. We’re eating the poor people first.”

Gotcha.

“Vive la Commune!”

Make Exumas great again.

“You know it.”

Fyre Wheel Burning In The Air

I had a cousin who got harvested.

Yeah?

A lot more common than we’re told. They picked him clean.

Hotel room?

Woke up in the bathroom with “Call 911” written on the mirror.

Well, that was nice of them.

Except that they had taken his eyeballs.

Ah.

CELL PHONE NOISE

I should take this.

Could be Hollywood.

Never know.

Yello?

“The situation on the ground is deteriorating.”

Benj?

“Things are not good at all here.”

Is it raining?

“The VIP guests are throwing their own poop.”

Wow. Benjy, how did you even get involved with the Fyre Festival?

“Me and Ja went to the same boarding school.”

Okay.

“Again: this is not my fault. I was given every assurance that the venue was built. Huh. That’s odd.”

What?

“Didn’t Pablo Escobar used to own hippos?”

Yeah.

“Okay. That’s where they came from.”

There are hippos?

“Hungry ones. The childhood game did not lie.”

Hippos are vegetarians.

“You should tell them that. They just ate an Instagram model. Luckily, the feral dogs are attacking them.”

There’s nothing lucky about that, Benjy.

“Wow, now the sharks are involved. I’m getting a lot of nature time here.”

Benjy, please try to save some people. Or something.

“This is an every-man-for-himself situation.”

You have responsibilities. You are supposed to be in charge.

“No one is in charge here. Fear is in charge now. Soon, hunger will reign. Then, violence will be king.”

Are you high?

“Well, no one told me that the festival was gonna be canceled, so I dosed on the plane ride over.”

Great. Stay safe.

“You sending Precarious?”

Yeah, he’ll be right there.

“Don’t blame Ja for this.”

I blame Ja for this.

Fyre On The Mountain

What do you think the Fourth Wave of feminism is going to be?

Straight-up murdering men in their sleep.

I’m surprised that wasn’t the First Wave.

If men were women, they wouldn’t put up with men’s shit.

And if they were anteaters, they would know what they were having for lunch.

Sure.

CELL PHONE NOISE

Is that you?

No.

Shit.

Yeah.

CELL PHONE NOISE

There’s maybe a million people I pray this isn’t.

Get it over with.

Yello.

“TotD? It’s Benjy.”

Oh, hey, Benj. What’s up?

“Nothing, everything’s great. Listen, you got a minute and a Paypal account?”

Are you in jail?

“Worse.”

What’s worse than jail?

“They hired me to run the Fyre Festival and it’s not working out.”

You’re in charge of that nightmare?

“I didn’t realize it would be this difficult.”

That’s gonna be the quote of the year, isn’t it? Why are you on top of an RV?

“The situation here has gotten a bit iffy.”

Sure.

“None of this is my fault! Ja said he was taking care of things. I was just supposed to be the on-site manager for the weekend!”

This is your fault, Benj. Didn’t you do any due diligence on this thing? I’m reading reports that everyone but the customers knew this was going to be a disaster for weeks.

“Ja looked me in the eyes.”

Stop calling him Ja.

“He said, ‘Dog, we good. It’s gonna be lit.’ And, you know, that’s as good as a signature.”

It’s not.

“I’m gonna give you a little update on the action here: cannibalism is rampant.”

Already?

“These kids were not prepared for calamity. Everybody here grew up in a house with a three-car garage. The collapse of reason and teamwork was almost immediate. Remember the security footage from Event Horizon?”

Yeah.

“It was like that. Several influencers were ripped to shreds.”

Nothing of value was lost.

“I just hope Ja’s okay.”

Fuck Ja! He did this!

“Oh, shit, they got the boats.”

What?

“The kids have commandeered the tenders and are attacking the yachts.”

That’s not good.

“They’re just ramming into them at full-speed. It’s like the Battle of Salamis, but everyone’s wearing Apple Watches.”

Benjy, you should get out of there.

“That’s why I’m calling. Send money.”

No.

“Send Precarious.”

Maybe. You gonna be okay for a minute? Can you defend the RV?

“Oh, yeah. It’s not just me.”

No? Who else is there?

“Heeeey, man.”

Hey, Soup. Should’ve figured when I saw the RV.

“What time is Woody Hayes on, man?”

Benjy, I’ll get back to you.

“Quickly.”

Oh, yeah.

Award Season

Oh, Christ.

“Hey, brother. How’s it hangin’?”

Don’t do shtick.

“My name’s Hank “The Hawk” Knut–”

DON’T DO SHTICK!

“Okay.”

I’m sorry I yelled, but I can’t deal with people doing their characters at me.

“I got it.”

I’m not in your improv troupe, John Mayer. You come in this dojo, you come correct.

“This is a dojo?”

Elvis is rubbing off on me a little. What is this?

“Promoting the new album.”

Right. Tears From My Penis.

“No.”

Stop Touching Her, Orlando.

“That hurts.”

Hey, man. I miss her, too. But, seriously: what is this?

“It’s one of my many characters. I do voices, impressions. I like to play dress-up.”

Sure.

“This is Hank “The Hawk” Knutley.”

Blah.

“You could do better?”

Porkchop Paxton. Jeremiah “Mumbleberry” Foyt. Hillman Gravy.

“Yeah, those are better.”

You need a writer.

“Maybe I do. Dead had someone else write their lyrics, right?”

Yup.

“Maybe I’ll try it. I know just the guy.”

Really? I’m honored , but–

CELL PHONE NOISE

Are you calling someone?

“Shh.”

Holy shit, you did not just shush me.

“Shh.”

You’re gonna get it, mister.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Hola?”

“Benjy?”

“Juan! Como esta?”

“Why are you speaking Spanish?”

“Cuba, baby!”

“Cuba, cool. Seeing it before it gets ruined.”

“No, no. It’s 1961. Elvis sent me here. Him and Bobby are fighting Communism’s main forces, and I’m cleaning up around the edges.”

“Riiiiiiight.”

“You haven’t really been in this storyline, have you?”

“Not as much as I’d like.”

“It’s been fun! Except for getting eaten by dinosaurs. Not fun in the slightest. And it doesn’t get any better: I’ve been eaten, like, a dozen times and it’s just as painful and terrifying as the first time.”

“They say you can get used to anything.”

“They’ve never been eaten by a dinosaur.”

“True. Listen, Benj: you wanna be my writer?”

“Didn’t we talk about this last week?”

“We did, but–”

“You said no. So now I’m Elvis’ sensei.”

“Again: I have not been in the storyline, so when you say things like “So now I’m Elvis’ sensei” without any context, I don’t know how to respond.”

“I’m in the Memphis Mafia. Let’s just leave it at that for the sake of the conversation.”

“Sure. That makes much more sense.”

“So, you know: I dunno if I got the time now, John.”

“You could do two things.”

“I’d have to ask Elvis. Hold–”

“HERE AH AM.”

“–on. Oh, hey, King.”

“Hi, Elvis.”

“WHATCHOO WEARIN’, BOY? YOU DOIN’ ONE O’ YER LITTLE CHARACTERS?”

“Yeah. His name is Hank “The Haw–”

“PASS! HELLO, SENSEI BENJY. WHAT WISDOM HAVE YOU BROUGHT BACK FROM YER RECENT TRIP T’ TH’ NETHERWORLD?”

“Always choose a slicker over an umbrella.”

“DAMN, MAN. THASS SOME GOOD ADVICE.”

“What are you up to, King?”

“AH AM ACCEPTIN’ AN AWARD.”

“For what?”

“MAH GREATNESS.”

“Okay. Weren’t you on a road trip with Bobby?”

“WHO?”

“Hairy Garcia.”

“HE IS MAH BEST FRIEND NOW! WE LIKE TONY CURTIS ‘N SIDNEY POITIER IN THE DEFIANT ONES, EXCEPT WE BOTH WHITE. AND WE AIN’T CHAINED T’ EACH OTHER. AN’ ALSO WE LIKE EACH OTHER.”

“Just like it.”

“UH-HUH.”

“Where is he?”

“AH ARRANGED F’R HIM TO BE PRESENTED WITH AN AWARD, TOO.”

“Look what Elvis got me.”

“THASS A FRIENDSHIP TROPHY RIGHT THERE, HAIRY GARCIA. SYMB’LIZES OUR FRATERNAL LOVIN’.”

“You bet. Heavy sucker.”

“Elvis?”

“SENSEI BENJY?”

“I’ve got a great offer to do some writing, but I don’t know if you’d be okay with me doing it. It might cut into our time together.”

“NEXT SUMBITCH WHO DON’ UNNERSTAND HOW TIME MACHINES WORK IS GETTIN’ SHOT!”

“Oh, right. I can do it.”

“YOU GOTTA FOLLOW YER BLISS, MAN, MAH BEST FRIEND HAIRY GARCIA TAUGHT ME THAT.”

“I didn’t really teach it. Just kinda said it once or twice.”

“AH LEARN FROM YOU.”

“Neato.”

“King, lemme call you back.”

“YOU ASSASSINATED CASTRO YET, BOY?”

“It’s on my to-do list.”

“HOP TO IT.”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

Weir Everywhen

Why are you making that face?

“This is, uh, Bobby Picture Pose #1.”

Right, but you don’t start doing your poses for at least 20 years.

“Uh-huh. I don’t know if you’ve been, you know, apprised of the situation, but time’s getting real slippery.”

Have you spoken to Phil?

“Phil from when?”

Mid-80’s.

“Y’know, I been meaning to give him a call. Hanging out a lot with 2015 Phil.”

Why?

“Free meals.”

Sure. Question.

“There’s a lot of dinosaurs.”

Are there dino…okay. Yeah, this is all Phil’s fault.

“Yeah?”

Yeah. He absconded with the Time Sheath–

“TIME SCARF!”

–and…dammit.

“YOU CALL THAT DEVICE O’ NIGH-ON INFINITE POWER BY ISS RIGHTFUL NAME, BOY.”

I am. It’s a Time Sheath.

“Hey, Elvis.”

“HELLO THERE, YOUNG MAN. AH BELIEVE AH KNOW YER FATHER.”

“No, that’s me 30 years from now.”

“YOU OUGHTA MOISTURIZE MORE, BOY. YOU ONE O’ THEM GRATEFUL DEADS?”

“Yeah, I’m the Bobby. I mean, my name’s Bobby, but I am also the Bobby.”

“BOY, AH’M GONNA ASK YOU A QUESTION AN’ AH DO NOT WANT YOU T’ GET OFFENDED.”

“Okee-doke.”

“YOU SLOW?”

“Just my tempos.”

“STOP TALKIN’ IN CIRCLES AN’ RIDDLES, HIPPIE! WE GOT TIMESTREAMS A-JUMPIN’ THEIR BANKS AN’ A-FLOODIN’ UP ON PEOPLE’S VERANDAS!”

“And dinosaurs.”

“AND DINOSAURS. LAST NIGHT, A PACK O’ RAPTORS ATE MAH STANKY, UNLETTERED, SNAGGLETOOTHED WEASEL’S ASSHOLE OF A DADDY–”

“Vernon.”

Vernon.

“VERNON. CHARLIE HODGE IS BRINGIN’ DADDY SCARVES AN’ WATER IN HEAVEN NOW!”

Did the raptors eat Charlie Hodge, too?

“CHARLIE HODGE LOST HIS LIFE IN A CONCURRENT, BUT UNRELATED, INCIDENT.”

You shot him?

“AH DID. OUT OF MAH GRIEF, AH DID. ALSO AH WANTED TO.”

Sure, but now you don’t have anyone to bring you your scarves and water.

“GOT THAT COVERED. SENSEI BENJY?”

“Yeah, King?”

“WHEN ARE YOU?”

“King, I’m in the 90’s.”

“WHATCHOO DOIN’ THEN?”

“I am teaching some inner-city youth about the beauty of poetry by using Phish lyrics.”

“HOWZAT GOIN’?”

“Not well. Phish’s lyrics are terrible. Plus, an entire row of kids got eaten by dinosaurs.”

“THESE THUNDER-LIZARDS IS BECOMIN’ A NUISANCE!”

“Yeah, and I’m almost out of chalk.”

“SENSEI BENJY, YOU MUST USE YER POWERS T’ BRING BACK MAH EYEBROW-LESS, MANGE-COVERED, PAROLE-VIOLATIN’ HOMUNCULUS OF A DADDY–”

“Vernon.”

Vernon.

“Vernon.”

“Bobby, is that you?”

“Hey, Benjy.”

“–VERNON. AN’ ALSO CHARLIE HODGE, IF’N YOU GOT SOME TIME. JOURNEY T’ TH’ NETHERWORLD LIKE ORPHEUS AN’ RETURN WHAT AH LOVE SO MUCH, AN’ ALSO CHARLIE HODGE.”

“Yeah. Uh. Elvis? It doesn’t actually work that way. I don’t think I can, like, bring people back.”

“YOU DON’ THINK? SO YOU NEVER TRIED?”

“Well, no. But I’m pretty sure that I can’t brin–”

THWIP

“Et tu, Elvis?”

flump

“THAT COMMIE SUMBITCH GAVE ME SOME POSION DARTS.”

Of course.

“HAIRLESS GARCIA STILL HERE?”

“HAIRLESS GARCIA!? WHERE AND WHEN ARE YOU?”

“HAIRLESS!”

“Does he think that’s my name?”

Yes.

“Ah. Uh, Elvis?”

“THERE YOU IS. OR, THEN YOU IS. AH AM NOT QUITE SURE WHASS GOIN’ ON HERE. OR NOW.”

“You just gotta roll with it until he runs out of pictures.”

“OR SOMETIMES HE JUST GETS BORED.”

“Also an option.”

“BUT F’R NOW WE GOT DINOSAURS AN’ TIME SHENANIGANS T’ FIX UP. TELL YER KING WHERE YER BASS PLAYER IS.”

“Phil?”

“AH DID’N ASK WHAT HIS NAME WAS, AH ASKED WHERE HE WAS. AH AIN’T NEVER ASKED NO BASS PLAYER’S NAME, BOY!”

“Good philosophy.”

“ISS SERVED ME WELL SO FAR. AW RIGHT, HAIRLESS GARCIA. LESS GO ADVENTURIN’ THROUGH TIME T’ DEFEAT COMMUNISM.”

“You bet.”

“Excuse me?”

Yes? Who are you?

“The guy with Bobby in the jacket.”

Ah. Randos don’t get speaking parts.

“Where am I?”

It’s complicated, but it’s over.

“What.”

Post’s done. All finished here.

“So what do I do?”

After I leave?

“Yeah?”

You read your Bible, Rando?

“Yeah.”

You’re in Limbo.

“For how long?”

You should have brought a book.

“Oh.”

Later.

Strike A Pose


“SENSEI BENJY! TALK T’ YER KING.”

“I’m here, King.”

AH C’N SEE AN’ HEAR YOU ON…WHATCHOO CALL THESE THINGS?”

“Google Glass. Elvis, things are very weird.”

“WHEN ARE YOU?”

“Whatever year Google Glass was a thing. I’m adrift in the timestream. Ten minutes ago, I was in 1322 in Massachusetts.”

“HOW’D THAT WORK OUT F’R YA?”

“I almost certainly set off a plague just with my very presence.”

“THEM INDIANS DID’N HAVE TH’ RIGHT ANTIBODIES, MAN.”

“Yeah, the ones who weren’t eaten by the pterodactyls are gonna die.”

“AW, NO. MORE DINOSAURS?”

“Permission to use foul language, King.”

“AH GRANT THIS.”

“They’re fuckin’ everywhere. I been to, like, nineteen different centuries in the past day. Every one of ’em has dinosaurs.”

“YEAH, SONNY AN’ RED BEEN SHOOTIN’ HIGH EXPLOSIVE AT THAT OL’ STEGOSAUR IN TH’ RACQUETBALL COURT FOR A WHILE NOW.”

“And that’s not the worst part. We’re starting to pull the future in towards us, and when the people from the future get here, they’re pissed.”

“WOULD’N YOU BE?”

“I’m not saying I blame ’em: just reporting.”

“YOU CONQUERED DEATH AT ALL?”

“I have been eaten by dinosaurs six times.”

“WHASS THAT LIKE?”

“It hurts.”

“UH-HUH. AH BEEN DOIN’ SOME FIGGERIN’. WHEN WE PUT THEM TWO DEVICES OF TIME-WARPIN’ POWER TOGETHER, SOMETHIN’ BAD HAPPENED.”

“You’re saying you wanna get a third time machine?”

“HOT DAMN, BOY, WE ARE SIMPATICO. YOU TOOK THE WORDS OUTTA MAH MOUTH. OBVIOUSLY, IT DID’N SOUND AS GOOD.”

“Can I Cadillac myself?”

“DO IT!”

“BAM! I just got Cadillac’d.”

“SENSEI BENJY, YER TEACHIN’ ME SO MUCH.”

“Yeah, I’m very wise. Can I get the performance package?”

“GET TWO OF ‘EM!”

“Nice.”

GOOGLE GLASS CALL WAITING NOISE

“TH’ DOOHICKEY IS FLASHIN’ AN’ BEEPIN’ AT ME!’

“I think you have another call.”

“HOL’, PLEASE.”

“NEW GOOGLE GLASS. WHO DIS?”

“Is Putin.”

“WHAT AH TELL YOU, BOY? KEEP THAT COMMIE HEAD DOWN IN YER COMMIE HOLE, OR AH’M GONNA WHOMPINATE YA.”

“You vill not vompinate anyone.”

“GONNA TEAR YA INTA LI’L STRIPS, AN’ SPRINKLE YA OVER A SALAD, AN’ THEN NOT EAT YOU.”

“You are salad. Putin tired of playing. Ve fight.”

“YOU JUS’ ENTERED A WORLD MADE OUTTA PAIN AND MAH KNUCKLES, BOY! HOW DARE YOU DON KARATE CLOTHES AT ME?”

“Is Judo.”

“JUDO IS A CHINESE WORD THAT MEANS ‘BAD KARATE.'”

“This is not correct.”

“100%.”

“0%.”

“TH’ WHOLE WIDE WORLD IS NOW MAH DOJO, AND AH SHALL NOT REST ‘TIL AH DOMINATE YOU. WATCH THIS SHIT RIGHT HERE, COMMIE.”

“THASS A KARATE POSE, BOY. NOT THAT SISSY SHIT YOU DOIN’.”

“Is not sissy. Is for men.”

“TOSSIN’ ‘EM? FLIPPIN’ EM? HELL, NO. MEN PUNCH LIKE SHARKS, AN’ KICK LIKE RACIST KANGAROOS, AN’ THEY MAKE COOL NOISES WHEN THEY DO IT. HI-YAH, THAT SORTA THING. DUNNO WHATCHOO DOIN’.”

“Judo best. Karate no good.”

“SEE HOW NO GOOD IT IS WHEN AH SHOVE MAH FIST THROUGH YOUR WHOLE CHEST, AN’ THEN SHUT OFF TH’ LIGHTS O’ TH’ DOJO TO SYMBOLIZE YER DEFEAT.”

“This is not a possible thing.”

“PROBABLE.”

“Maybe, Elvis America. Maybe you beat Putin. If you do, then you get glorious Russian Time Lada.”

“WAIT, MAN. YOU GOT A TIME MACHINE?”

“Is yours, is Grateful Dead, and mine. Only three on planet. You want solve your problem, you need me. Putin wins.”

“YOU DO NOT WIN AT ALL, BOY! AH AM GONNA DEFEAT YOU USING MAH PROWESS.”

“Ve vill see.”

“WHY CAN’T YOU SAY ‘W,’ GODAMMIT?”

“Is accent.”

“It’s a stupid accent!”

“Who is this speaking?”

“BENJY? THAT YOU, BOY?”

“Yeah. You didn’t put me on hold. You hit the three-way call button. Anyway, I have got a real bone to pick with you, Putin. How dare you shoot me with a poison-tipped blowda–”

THWIP

“Motherfucker.”

shlump

“YOU KNOW THAT THERE BOY’S IMMORTAL, RIGHT?”

“Da. Just wanted him to shut up.”

“UNNERSTANDABLE.”

“We fight to see if world ends?”

“WHY NOT, MAN?”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH GOOGLE GLASS CERTAINLY DOESN’T DO THAT

An Impropitious Introduction

You really should play some ’97 DMB, bro.

“Not familiar.”

Bro? Fuckin’ Tinsley on the violin? Sick, bro. Sick.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

What are you doing?

“Giving the fans a little John Time.”

Is that like Pope Time?

“What?”

Nothing.

“Gotta promote the new record, The Search for Everything.”

The Search for Everything?

“Yeah.”

You need a writer? Seriously. I work cheap, but you have to put up with a lot of bullshit.

“Kiss my ass. You think you could do better?”

Yup.

“Go to it.”

Put Your Pussy On My Heart.

“Terrible.”

John Mayest.

“What?”

Like, more than John Mayer. John Mayest.

“I get it.”

Like it?

“No, but I get it.”

“AH AM BREAKIN’ INTA THIS HERE MIDDLIN’ POST TO BRING EV’RYONE A ‘PORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!”

You can’t just show up.

“BUT AH DID AN’ NOW AH’M HERE SO LESS JUS’ MOVE PAST IT.”

“Hey, Elvis.”

“GO PLAY DAVE MATTHEWS TUNES, BOY. THIS HERE GROWN-UP BUSINESS.”

“I’m older than you.”

GUNSHOT!

“I’m gone.”

“AH DO NOT KNOW WHY AH GOTTA PUT UP WITH THAT.”

Join the club.

“THERE HAS BEEN AN INCIDENT.”

Oh, no.

“Y’ALL KNOW THIS RUSSIAN FELLA, POOTER?”

Putin.

“BLESS YOU. HE’S A BAD HOMBRE, MAN. GETTIN’ ALL KINDA FUNNY IDEAS ‘BOUT TH’ WAY THINGS WORK.”

I know who he is.

“AS YOU KNOW, AH AM A MAN OF PEACE.”

Sure.

“BUT AH AM ALSO AN AMERICAN OF PEACE, WHICH MEANS AH AM GONNA WHUP SOME COMMIE ASS.”

Yay.

“‘CEPT THERE HAS BEEN AN INCIDENT. AH BLAME EV’RYONE ‘CEPT MAHSELF.”

What happened?

“AH DECIDED THAT THE AWESOME POWER OF A FULLY-OPERATIONAL TIME CAPE WAS NOT ENOUGH F’R WHAT AH HAD T’ DO. AH REQUIRED A SECOND DEVICE OF TIME-WARPIN’ CAPABILITY.”

That is probably not a good idea.

“AIN’T NO PROB’LY ABOUT IT, BOY. YOU SHOULD NOT LET TWO TIME MACHINES TOUCH EACH OTHER.”

Wow, no.

“THINGS IS GETTIN’ WEIRD ‘ROUND HERE. MISS MARY JUS’ CALLED FROM GRACELAND. BIG OL’ STEGOSAURUS IN TH’ RACQUETBALL COURT.”

What precisely happened, Elvis?

“THERE WAS ONLY ONE OTHER TIME MACHINE AH KNEW OF.”

Dammit. Not the Time Sheath.

“WHEN AH POSSESS IT, IT BECOMES A TIME SCARF.”

You shouldn’t possess it. Neither should the Dead. I’m trying to think of people who would be worse to give machine to than Elvis and the Grateful Dead, but all I can come up with are serial killers and dictators.

“POSSESSION IS NINE TIMES EIGHTY-FOUR!”

Are you trying to say “Possession is nine-tenths of the law?'”

MAH HEEBIE-JEEBIES IS COMIN’ ON SOMETHIN’ FIERCE, MAN.

Please just tell me what happened.

“AH SWALLOWED MAH ROYAL PRIDE, AND EVEN THOUGH AH HAVE FAILED IN MAH QUEST T’ KARATE WITH HAIRY GARCIA, AH CALLED TH’ FILTHY DRUG DEN THEY ALL LIVE IN. LUCKILY, THE DIRTY HIPPIE THAT PICKED UP KNEW ‘BOUT POOTER. HE AGREED TO JOIN ME AN’ BRING THE TIME SCARF.”

Sheath. Who was it?

“TH’ BASS PLAYER.”

Phil?

“AH WILL BE DAMNED T’ HELL ‘FORE AH LEARN A BASS PLAYER’S NAME.”

Dammit. Phil’s actually vaguely competent. I don’t know why he did this. Wait. Phil from when?

“MIDDLE O’ THE 80’S.”

Aw, man. Phil?

“Kiss my ass.”

Jesus.

“You, with your little sketches, and Pooter–”

Putin

“–and his bullshit, and Josh and his chatting and snapping, and Elvis, too. Kiss my ass, Elvis.

“DONT’ YOU TALK T’ YER KING THAT WAY, YOU SLOPPY SUMBITCH.”

“Everything would’ve been fine until dickless here’s monkey grabbed the Time Sheath–”

“SCARF!”

“–and threw it around his sweaty neck.

“THAT MONKEY HAS A NAME, BOY. ISS CHARLIE HODGE. AH ALSO HAVE AN ACTUAL MONKEY. HIS NAME IS CHARLIE HODGE, TOO.”

You’re straying from the point, Elvis.

“TH’ POINT IS WHATEVER AH’M SAYIN’ AT TH’ TIME!”

“Should’ve seen the damn thing. It was like time vomited itself up. Everyone in the room’s wrists turned inside out. Jackass.”

“YER GETTIN’ AWFUL CLOSE T’ KARATE TIME, BASS PLAYER! YER LUCKY AH AM, AS AH SAID BEFORE, A MAN OF PEACE. WHAT TH’ MEMPHIS MAFIA FUCKS UP, TH’ MEMPHIS MAFIA FIXES. AH GOT MAH SENSEI ON IT.”

Who?

“Elvis, I’m in New York and John Lennon is dead.”

“SHOULD HE BE?”

“That depends. What year is it?”

“WHEN AH AM OR WHEN YOU ARE?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus, man. Your sensei is Benjy?”

“HE HAS CONQUERED DEATH HISSELF. THAT BOY’S LIKE DARTH PLAGEUIS THE WISE, MAN. HE IS TEACHIN’ ME HIS SYSTEM OF MARTIAL ARTS, BENJIDO.”

“Okay, yeah: none of this is my fault. I may be drunk, but you’re a ninny.”

“Hey! Phil! How ya doing?”

“Hi, Benjy.”

“Lemme run one thing by you: Searching for the Sound 2?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What about a Cadillac?”

“GIVE THAT MAN A CADILLAC!”

“BAM! You just got Cadillac’d, Phil!”

“Okay. Phil out.”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH NO ONE WAS ON THE PHONE

“Elvis? King? Between you and me, all of this is Phil’s fault.”

“AH KNEW IT!”

“Hello?”

“Hello?”

John?

“Yeah. You forgot about me.”

Oh. Huh. Well, the post’s over.

“I’d like to talk about my new alb–”

Post’s over.

“I despise you.”

Yeah, yeah.

Bowling For Rubles

Hey, Holly Bowling. Whatcha doing?

“Ohhhhh, shit. They told me about you.”

Who?

“Everyone. Phil, Bobby, Soup.”

You know Soup?

“I found him living in my hat.”

You love that hat.

“I want no part of this.”

Not even if I plug your new album Better Left Unsung, available as two CD’s or three vinyl LPs?

“Eh.”

What about plugging your upcoming tour? Which I notice does not come to South Florida.

“I can’t go to Florida.”

Warrants?

“Warrants.”

I hear you.

“I’m gonna pass on this. It was sweet to include me in your ravings without my permission, but I’m gonna pass.”

Sorry to hear that.

CELL PHONE NOISE.

“Is that you?”

No.

“I left my phone backstage.”

Check your hat.

“How the hell did it get in there?”

Got me.

“Weird.”

Yeah.

“You’re rolling with Bowling.”

“Why you no have band?”

“Who is this?”

“Is Putin.”

“I don’t want to join the Flaming Groovies.”

“If I did not think you were also immortal, I would have you blowdarted, too.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You get band. Big hit. All-lady jam band.”

“Sounds a little gimmicky.”

“Ve call band Doobies & Boobies.”

“Pass.”

“Putin manage. You vill be big stars. I promise.”

“I cannot pass hard enough.”

CALL WAITING NOISE

“That’s me. I’m not coming back.”

“Putin find you, Holy Piano.”

“Goodbye.”

“I steal your hat.”

“GoodBYE!”

“Hello?”

“Holly? Was that Putin?”

“Yes!”

“The one from–”

“Not the one from the Flaming Groovies.”

“–the Flam…okay, just checking.”

“Wait. Who is this?”

“It’s Benjy Eisen. I’m calling on behalf of Elvis.”

“THAT SQUIRRELY LI’L COMMIE MAKIN’ INCURSIONS?”

“Yeah, King! It was him!”

“DAMN, MAN. AH HAVE BEEN CLEAR IN MAH WARNINGS.”

“You totally were, King. Can we Cadillac Holly?”

“CONSIDER IT DONE.”

“Nice! Holly?”

“Yeah?”

“You just got Cadillac’d!”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“It’s complicated. Putin’s been making incursions into the universe we occupy, so Elvis Presley has been fighting him using the awesome power of a fully-operational Time Cape.”

“AN’ KARATE!”

“And karate. Holly, lemme ask you something.”

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you have a band?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“I got an idea: all-lady jam band. I even got a name.”

“Doobies & Boobies?”

“How’d you guess!?”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

“Hey!”

“HEY!”

Me?

“Yes! What the FUCK is going on?”

Holly, are you familiar with the concept of semi-fictionality?

“No. No, I’m not. Mostly because that isn’t a concept.”

Oh, anything’s a concept if you can conceive of it.

“I’m calling my lawyer.”

You shouldn’t.

“Why not?”

The person who picks up is not going to be your lawyer.

“Why?”

Because she was eaten by komodo dragons this morning.

INCOMING TEXT NOISE

“Oh my God, my lawyer was eaten by komodo dragons this morning.”

Told you.

“Did you do that?”

Kinda.

“Why!?”

Couldn’t think up a punchline for the post.

“You’re a hack.”

I know.

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