Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: elvis presley (page 2 of 10)

Dessert

Is there doobie in that cookie?

“Well, uh, we’re in California. There’s doobie in everything now.”

“Shampoo.”

Amazing.

“I saw something, you know, just amazing at the Erotiquarium the other day.”

The Erotiquarium?

“They sell goldfish and dildos.”

Sure.

“Edible underwear edibles.”

I can’t even begin to comprehend what that is.

“Like regular edible underwear, but infused with pure THC extract. It’s a better idea than you think.”

How so?

“Well, you know: you eat the underwear, get high, and then you get hungry again and you eat what’s under the underwear. Works out pretty well for everyone involved.”

Ew.

“I’m gonna agree with the weirdo, Bob. Ew.”

Thanks, Phil.

“Kiss my ass.”

Can we get back to the storyline, please?

“It’s cookie time, man.”

Have you heard from John?

“He’s more than capable of handling some sorority girls.”

One of whom is your daughter.

“I’ll give him a call right now.”

Sure.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Mayer.”

“Oh, sorry. I was looking for Josh Mey–”

“It’s me, Bob. Josh Meyers. Where are you?”

“I’m sitting right next to you, you son of a bitch.”

“JESUS! Where the fuck did you come from?”

“San Rafael.”

“No, I mean–”

“Don’t worry about that. You stay away from Lisa-Marie.”

“Your daughter’s name is Monet, Bob.”

“Her, too.”

“You’re a nice kid, Josh, but you’re just too old for her. There’s something just not right about a rock star in his very late 30’s going after teenagers.”

“Really?’

“I’m warning you, Meyers.”

“Bob, I’m not interested in any of the girls here.”

“What about that one there?”

“I’d ruin that shit.”

“You been drinking?”

“Yup. Bobby, why is this picture so shitty and we’re circled?”

“He ran out of good photos.”

“Huh.”

“Hey, where’s Putin?”

“In all likelihood, he’s headed towards Terrapin Crossroads by sea.”

“That sounds like him. I should warn Phil.”

APPLE WATCH NOISE

“Terrapin Crossroads, try the pot roast.”

“Phil?”

“Bob? Where the hell did you go?”

“You wouldn’t understand. You don’t have daughters.”

“Bob, I wrote a song about the relationship between fathers and daughters. Maybe we could play it this summer.”

“I’m already kinda pissed at you.”

“Sorry.”

“May I continue my phone call on my watch?”

“Sure.”

“Thank you. Hey, Phil.”

“Baby Levon does that to me. Whenever I get on the phone, he’s gotta talk to me.”

“Kids.”

“Kids.”

“Yeah, so, uh: Putin’s coming to your place.”

“How so?”

“By sea.”

“That sounds like him. I’ll alert the busboys.”

“Okee-doke.”

“No, wait. I see the little bastard coming out of the canal.”

“Hey! Get out of here, Putin!”

“Putin occupy. Terrapin Crossroads historically part of Russia.”

“We don’t even serve borscht!”

“You will learn to cook. Putin teach.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Putin make changes to restaurant. Install carving station.”

“Carving station? We’re not at a Bar Mitzvah in Syosset.”

“You are Bar Mitzvah in Syosset.”

“That doesn’t even make sense, jackass.”

“Under vetsuit is tuxedo.”

“No, there isn’t.”

“Putin, Vladimir Putin.”

“Seriously, man: fuck off.”

“Vhy you not book Autograph?”

“Who?”

“Autograph. Is rock band. Rock very hard.”

“Never heard of–”

“HERE AH AM T’ SAVE TH’ DAY!”

“Thank God! It’s Elvis!”

“THASS TH’ RIGHT EMOTION YER FEELIN’ THERE, OL’ BASS PLAYER FELLA. AH AM TH’ HERO O’ TH’ COMIC BOOK AN’ ALSO AH AM A SEA CAPT’N, AN’ ALSO MAH GLORIOUS HAIR IS DOIN’ SOME KINDA CRAZY WING THING. ISS A TRIP, MAN!”

“And you have a very nautical scarf.”

“GOOD EYE, BOY! YOU NEVER GONNA GUESS WHO BROUGHT IT T’ ME!”

“Charlie Hodge?”

“MAN, YER SMART.”

“Elvis, listen: it’s Trivia Night and I can’t have Putin invading my restaurant. Anything you can do?”

“Elvis America can do nothing to Putin. Putin is vinner. Elvis is los–”

thwip

“Putin should have gotten on land before taunting man vith blowdar–”

glug glug glug

BLOOP

“OKAY, AH KILLED HIM.”

“Thanks.”

“LEMME ASK YOU SOMETHING, BOY. THAT RESTAURANT O’ YER’S GOT A KITCHEN?”

“Obviously.”

“THEN YOU MAY FEED YER KING.”

“Come on in.”

“AH WILL ALSO PARTICIPATE IN TRIVIA NIGHT.”

“Cool.”

Weir Partying

“It’s just not fair, Bob.”

“Josh, everybody doesn’t get to be in every storyline. When Garcia started a solo band, I wasn’t in it. Didn’t hurt my feelings.”

“No?”

“It hurt a little.”

“Okay, so you see where I’m coming from.”

“Connecticut.”

“I mean: you understand my position.”

“Seated.”

“Can’t you talk to Elvis? I wanna fight Communism, or time travel, or drunken Phil from 30 years ago. Whichever.”

“Yeah, this storyline has a whole lotta ‘whichever’ in it.”

“Well, just put in a word with him. Where is Elvis?”

“I saw him at the bar.”

“Is he drinking? He shouldn’t be mixing whatever he’s on with alcohol.”

“DON’T NOBODY TELL A SOUTHERN MAN WHAT T’ DO ‘LESS THEY BRING TH’ NATIONAL GUARD”

“Calm down, Elvis.”

“TELL YER SON HE’S ABOUT T’ GET A TON O’ KARATE SHOVED UP HIS ASS, HAIRY GARCIA.”

“Please don’t unleash your karate on Josh, King.”

“AH HAVE MADE MAH FEELIN’S ‘BOUT THAT BOY CRYSTAL CLEAR.”

“I know, yeah, sure. But, uh, lemme tell you: everybody feels that way at first. He grows on you.”

“SO DO CARBUNCLES!”

“True.”

“Okay, don’t call me a carbuncle, man.”

“YOU WILL ADDRESS TH’ KING WHEN ADDRESSED BY TH’ KING, AN’ TH’ KING AIN’T NEVER GOIN’ T’ ADDRESS YOU, CARBUNCLE!”

“Goddammit, Bob. I have, like, five Grammys.”

“Nobody cares about the Grammys, Josh.”

“LISTEN T’ YER ELDERS, CARBUNCLE!”

“Is that nickname gonna stick?”

“The answer to that will be revealed in the fullness of time, I suppose.”

“WHICH ONE YOU LITTLE LADIES WANTS A DEMEROL?”

“Elvis?”

“UH-HUH?”

“Not the one in the red dress.”

“IZZAT YER LISA-MARIE?”

“Yup.”

“AH WILL NOT GRANT HER MAH PILLS. HOW ‘BOUT YOU?”

“Y’know what? I could be talked into my shoulder hurting.”

“HOT DAMN, HAIRY GARCIA! NOW ISS A PARTY!”

“I’ll take one, too, man.”

“AW RIGHT, MAN! DEMEROLS F’R EV’RYBODY ‘CEPT CARBUNCLE!”

“Bobby?”

“Josh?”

“Is that Jerry at the bar?”

“Good eye.”

“Uh-huh. Bobby?”

“Yeah?”

“Should the dead guy be sitting at the bar in full view of the room?”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not.”

“So, why is he?”

“Cuz that’s Garcia from ’89. He’s not dead yet. 2017 Garcia? Yeah, dead as disco. That guy should not be anywhere near the bar.”

“Why is Jerry from ’89 sitting at the bar?”

“Well, we weren’t gonna leave him in the car.”

“IT AIN’T A CAR! ISS A STUTZ!”

“In the Stutz.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be in this storyline.”

“NOBODY INVITED YA, CARBUNCLE!”

“Okay, I’m gonna go bang sorority chicks in the bathroom.”

“AVOID TH’ STALL ON TH’ LEFT. THAT POPEYE’S WENT RIGHT THROUGH ME.”

“Goddammit.”

Having Fun With Elvis On Stage

You may, Enthusiasts, have noticed that TotD has been on a bit of an Elvis bender. I found this nifty YouTube-to-MP3 gadget, and there’s tons of live shows available; some soundboards, but also some great-sounding AUDs and they might honestly be better, as you hear the crowd’s reaction. Elvis told a lot of jokes, so the SBD’s sound like those sitcoms with the laugh tracks removed.

This show’s from ’74 at the International in Vegas. The Dead had the Wall of Sound in 1974; Elvis had a Wall of Musicians: a six-piece rock group, plus TWO sets of backup singers (white boys and black girls), and a lady named Kathy Westmoreland whose job was to sing the high notes, plus a 30-piece (honest) orchestra.

And, of course, Charlie Hodge on scarves and water.

The band is–as I’m sure you’ve grown tired of me telling you–one of the greatest show bands in history: powerful and tight and dramatic and anchored by the great Ronnie Tutt, who would join Garcia’s Legion of Mary a few months after this show. The music is perfect, and Elvis is in good voice; he does some tunes he always did–the sublimely goofy American Trilogy and the genuinely affecting You Gave Me A Mountain–and some lesser known songs like If You Talk In Your Sleep.

But this show is not about the songs. This performance–Elvis’ last of that particular engagement–is about so much more. Allow me, if you will, to slip into some more comfortable bullet points:

(EDITOR’S NOTE: I SWEAR I AM NOT MAKING THE FOLLOWING UP. IF YOU DOUBT ME, THEN PLEASE LISTEN TO THE SHOW AND CALL ME A LIAR IN THE COMMENT SECTION.)

  • Elvis demands Charlie Hodge remove his belt for him.
  • Several book reviews.
    • He liked one book that wrote about him positively, and praised the author for being honest.
    • He did not like a different book which wrote mean things about him, and scolded the author for printing lies.
    • Elvis sounds like a guy I know.
  • An explanation of the belt system in karate.
  • A refutation of rumors about his recent divorce, leading to the introduction of Priscilla, who is in the crowd.
    • She is sitting with Lisa Marie, who is presented to the audience.
    • Also at the table is Elvis’ current girlfriend, who is told to hold up her hand so everyone could see the ring Elvis just bought her.
    • Elvis then talks about the ring for a while.
  • ’74 was when Elvis’ habit of singing along with the band got hilarious.
    • Elvis would just belt out “BAH bah BAH” with the horn section in between lyrics.
  • Multiple women are asked to “TWIRL ‘ROUND SO EV’RYBODY C’N SEE YOU.”
  • It’s Now Or Never is performed twice.

And then there are the introductions. Holiest of shits, the introductions. Elvis introduces damn near every human in the building and it takes a solid twenty minutes while the band is vamping (wonderfully) under him. I was listening to this while running errands, and I didn’t hear one song: just Elvis introducing the crowd to itself.

The introductions are so long that Elvis gets bored with doing them, sings two songs, and then goes right back into them.

Again: I am not making these up; I won’t put silly ones in.

  • All of the TCB band.
    • Obviously, Elvis instructs them all to solo.
    • “SHOW ‘EM WHY YER HERE, BOY!”
  • Both backup singing groups, individually.
  • The high-singing lady.
  • The conductor.
  • Charlie Hodge.

At this point, Elvis demands that the piano player from the opening act come back out onstage and sing a song; Elvis recites the lyrics along with him.

  • The audio engineer.
  • Several karate men.
  • Vikki Carr, who was playing at the Tropicana.

At this point, Elvis sings It’s Now Or Never for the second time.

  • His family, again.
  • His girlfriend, again.
  • His droopy-eyed, weak-chinned, four-balled, whiskey-dicked, fartstain of a daddy–
  • Vernon.
  • –Vernon.
  • Colonel Parker.
  • Judy Spreckles, heiress to the Spreckels sugar fortune. (I swear. I know that sounds like a name I would make up, but it really happened and also Elvis talked about the ring she had given him for a couple minutes.)

At this point, Elvis stops introducing people to declare a recent paternity suit against him “a conspiracy.”

  • Bill Cosby.

I feel I must make a confession, Enthusiasts: I am a monster. This cascading insanity of a pill-fueled nutbar had had me giggling throughout my errands, but when the King said “GIVE IT UP F’R TH’ COZ, LADIES AN’ GEN’LEMEN!” I started laughing so hard that I almost crashed my car. Surprise Cosby is the funniest Cosby. (Or, the least funny Cosby.)

Oh, and then the crazy sumbitch introduces “MAH JEW’RY.” Honest. Elvis introduces his rings to the audience, and the audience applauds.

God bless Elvis, who is America.

Bearcat, Bear, Cat

“HOW YOU DOIN’ BACK THERE, HAIRY GARCIA?”

“This is, uh, real comfortable. Spacious. Man can really kick off his sandals in a backseat like this. Lotta bliss to be found.”

“YOU FIND ANY EXTRA, YOU SEND IT UP HERE.”

“Aye-aye. Elvis, what are these seats made of?”

“THAT THERE IS LEATHER FROM A TUFTED VARLET.”

“Huh. What, uh, what kind of animal is that?”

“AH HAVE NO IDEA, BUT ISS SO SOFT YOU COULD WIPE YER ASS WITH IT.”

“Oh, yeah. You shouldn’t though.”

“YOU WANNA WIPE YER ASS ON MAH CAR, HAIRY GARCIA, THEN YOU GO ‘HEAD. YOU MAH BEST FRIEND AN’ WE HAVIN’ ADVENTURES JUS’ LIKE HUCK AN’ JIM, MAN.”

“There are small differences, I guess.”

“MEBBE WE GONNA MEET A HOBO KING. WILL HE TEACH US HIS SECRETS? AH DO NOT KNOW, BUT AH AM EXCITED T’ FIND OUT.”

“Okee-doke. But, you know: first we gotta get all the time machines back.”

“YOU GOT A LINE ON YER BASS PLAYER?”

“Yeah, well, that’s a problem. Nobody’s seen him in a few days. Could be anywhere.”

“AH HOPE HE AIN’T IN TH’ YEAR 3411 GETTIN’ HISSELF A PAIR O’ QUANTUM NIPPLES.”

“Me, too.”

“MAN, ME AN’ YOU IS JUST SIMPATICO, HAIRY GARCIA.”

“Uh, y’know, Elvis…you can call me Bobby.”

“AH C’N CALL ANYBODY WHATEVER AH WANT T’ CALL ‘EM. AH CHOOSE T’ CALL YOU HAIRY GARCIA. YOU WANNA STOP AT STUCKEY’S?”

“I’m good.”

“YER LOSS, MAN. NOW TELL TH’ KING ABOUT THIS WAYWARD BASS PLAYER. YOU GOT A HUNCH WHERE HE AT? OR WHEN?”

“Here’s the thing about Phil that might work to our advantage: he’s kinda lazy. Most likely, he’s drunk in a bar in San Ysidro.”

“THEN AH SHALL POINT MAH GLAMOROUS AN’ POWERFUL CAR THATTAWAY. HOW YOU FIXED F’R SCARVES AN’ WATER?”

“More than enough of both.”

“YOU SURE? AH C’N STOP AN’ LET CHARLIE HODGE OUTTA TH’ TRUNK.”

“I’m good.”

“WE OUGHTTA GET OFF TH’ HIGHWAY AN’ GO T’ ONE O’ THOSE JOINTS THAT SELLS EV’RYTHING. YOU KNOW: WHERE TH’ POOR FOLKS EAT AT. THEY GOT CHICKEN AN’ SEAFOOD AN’ CHINESE FOOD AN’ MUFFINS AN’ PIZZA. THEN, Y’ MASH ALL THAT T’GETHER AN’ HAVE MISS MARY DEEP-FRY IT. AH CALL IT A BAD NEIGHBORHOOD SAN’WICH. ISS SO DELICIOUS Y’ GET A BONER EATIN’ IT.”

“Not hungry.”

“DO YOU HAVE LOVE IN YER LIFE, HAIRY GARCIA?”

“Sure, yeah. Quite a bit. Wife, kids, Jeff Chimenti.”

“AH HAVE LOST MAH PRISCILLA! MAH TEENAGED BRIDE DONE RUN OFF WITH TH’ KARATE INSTRUCTOR!”

“YOU HEAR ME?”

“Yeah, uh, sorry. Just kinda amazed by the fact that the sentence ‘My teenaged bride ran off with the karate instructor’ is completely factual and not exaggerated for comic effect.”

“DAMMIT, HAIRY GARCIA, AH AM TRYIN’ T’ BE REAL WITH YOU! STOP MAKIN’ ASIDES T’ THE AUDIENCE!”

“You’re right. Continue.”

“WHEN AH FIRST SAW MAH PRISCILLA, SHE WAS BUT A SLIP OF A GIRL. KEPT FALLIN’ OVER CUZ HER BEEHIVE HAIRDO WAS BIGGER THAN SHE WAS. MAH PRISCILLA WAS A DELICATE FLOWER THAT AH NEEDED TO PLUCK, AN’ ALSO MAKE MAH LOVE TO.”

“She was a looker.”

“SOME SAID IT WAS WRONG CUZ SHE WAS SO YOUNG. BUT AH COULD NOT RESIST HER CHARMS, MAN. SHE WAS A STONE-COLD TEEN FOX. YOU KNOW WHAT AH’M TALKIN’ ABOUT?”

“No.”

“YOU NEEDED T’ THINK ‘BOUT THAT?”

“Let’s just talk about you. Why’d she leave? Marriage going bad before that?”

“TH’ MARRIAGE WAS HEAVENLY, MAN. SHE PROVIDED ME WITH MAH PRECIOUS GIRL-CHILD, LISA MARIE.”

“Maybe you should’ve had another kid. I hear having another kid fixes problems.”

“YOU BITE YER TONGUE, HAIRY GARCIA! YOU BITE IT RIGHT OFF! IF AH WASN’T USIN’ MAH FEET AN’ HANDS F’R DRIVIN’, AH WOULD BE USIN’ ‘EM F’R KARATE!”

“What’d I say?”

“HOW COULD AH GIVE MAH GIFT T’ PRISCILLA AFTER SHE HAD TH’ BABY? THASS A RUINED COOTER, MAN! CAN’T DO NOTHIN’ WITH THAT KINDA COOTER! AH DON’T EVEN KNOW IF THAT FULLY QUALIFIES AS A COOTER ANY MORE!”

“Wow.”

“LISSEN UP: BABIES COME FROM GOD. WE KNOW THIS FROM OUR STUDIES. AH READ LOTSA BOOKS ‘BOUT THIS KINDA STUFF. BABIES COME FROM GOD. THAT MEANS WHEN A BABY COMES OUT YER COOTER, YER COOTER IS GOD. CAN’T BE STICKIN’ YER PECKER IN GOD, MAN.”

“I guess not.”

“NOT IN TH’ SOUTH, AT LEAST. DUNNO WHATCHOO WEIRDOS FROM CALIFORNIA GET UP TO.”

“We don’t stick our peckers in God, Elvis.”

“ALL RIGHT. THASS GOOD T’ HEAR. YOU WAN’ SOME SPAGHETTI?”

“Still not hungry.”

“AH GOT IT RIGHT HERE IN THE GLOVE COMPARTMENT. WOULDN’T EVEN NEED T’ STOP.”

“Nuh-uh.”

APPLE WATCH NOISE

“That’s me.”

“AH KNOW THASS YOU. KING WOULDN’T WEAR ONE O’ THEM SISSY STRAPS.”

“Sure.”

“Weir here.”

“Look up, Bobby Grateful.”

“Who is this?”

“Is Putin. I have plane now.”

“How’d you afford a plane? The Flaming Groovies never sold any records.”

“Put Elvis on phone.”

“You bet. Elvis, he wants to talk to you.”

“HEY, POOTER.”

“Is not name.”

“ME AN’ HAIRY GARCIA COMIN’ T’ KICK YER COMMIE ASS BACK T’ TH’ LIBRARY IN LONDON MARX  SCRIBBLED YER DOPEY SYSTEM IN.”

“Communism not dopey. Is for people.”

“NAH, MAN. ELVIS IS F’R TH’ PEOPLE. COMMUNISM’S F’R JOKERS AN’ WOOLY BOOGERS.”

“You are woofy booboo.”

“WOOLLY BOOGER.”

“Woodoo boogie.”

“WOOLY BOOGER.”

“Nyet. This cannot be said with Russian accent.”

“POINT: AMERICA.”

“I have many missile. Maybe I shoot ugly American car.”

“UGLY? MAN, THIS HERE’S A STUTZ BEARCAT. YOU THINK ISS UGLY, THEN YOU MUST BE LOOKIN’ AT YER FACE AN’ MISTAKIN’ IT F’R MAH FINE AUTOMOBILE.”

“Nice burn, Elvis.”

“THANK YOU, HAIRY GARCIA. THANK YOU VERY MUCH.”

“Is no burn.”

“Y’ BURNT, BOY! AH BURNT YA!”

“No burn.”

“MEBBE AH SEND DR. NICK OVER THERE T’ MINISTER T’ YER BURNS. HE COULD APPLY SOME SORTA MEDICATED POULTICE.”

“Propaganda. Burn is propaganda.”

“NOW PISS OFF, IVAN. ME AN’ MAH BEST FRIEND GOIN’ T’ FIND A DRUNKEN BASS PLAYER FROM 1985 WHO DONE FILCHED SOME TIME-ALTERIN’ DEVICES!”

“Da. This is what Putin is doing.”

“WHAT NOW?”

“Phil?”

“Hey, Bobby.”

“You joined the Flaming Groovies?”

“Listen: ’85 me is a drunken fool, and he can’t be trusted with one time machine, let alone several. Whatever item of clothing that jackass has turned into a chronofucker needs to be confiscated.”

“Yeah, no, I agree. That’s what me and Elvis are doing. Why didn’t you come with us?”

“It seems like Putin’s the only one around here who knows what he’s doing.”

“I actually can’t argue with that.”

“AH CAN! AH NOW DECLARE KARATE WAR ON ALL ITERATIONS OF YER BASS PLAYER!”

“Okay, have fun driving around with the lunatic. I’m going to take care of this.”

RUSSIAN DIAL TONE NOISE

“He sounds well.”

“HE GONNA SOUND BEATEN.”

“King?”

“BEST FRIEND?”

“Who’s in the passenger seat?”

“AH HAVE NO IDEA WHO THIS MAN IS.”

“Okay. That spaghetti offer still on the table?”

“AH KNEW YOU COULDN’T RESIST ISS SIREN SONG, MAN.”

Smoking In The Girl’s Room

Still?

“I’m all in, man. Been living my life as The Hawk for a week now.”

Why?

“Honestly? I’m trying to see if there’s anything I can do that would stop me from getting laid.”

is there?

“Getting a tugger right now. Just out of frame.”

Wow.

“Tried it all: not showering, saying stupid shit in interviews, singing through my nose. Nothing.”

I feel bad for you.

“Yeah?”

CELL PHONE NOISE

No.

“Fucker.”

Good insult. Call Benjy and see if he’ll write you another one.

“Is that why you’re mad? Because I asked Benjy to be my writer and not you?”

I’m not mad.

CELL PHONE NOISE

Not mad at all.

“This pettiness is why you’re not successful.”

There are so many more reasons than that.

“Dick.”

“You’ve reached The Hawk’s nest.”

“You do character? No do character. No can take shtick.”

“Oh,  fuck.”

“Hello, hot dog dick. I back.”

“No one wanted you back.”

“I fan favorite.”

“You’re not.”

“Everyone miss Kim Jong-Un.”

“They don’t.”

“Why Josh Meyers tour not come to Only Korea?”

“Same reason I’m not going to South Florida.”

“You no like Jews?”

“No!”

“No Jews in Only Korea.”

“It’s not about the Jews.”

“Father invent Jews.”

“He didn’t.”

“You bring tour here. Play all your hit.”

“Hits.”

“Agree to disagree. Come Only Korea, Josh. I make up room for you. We have sleepover.”

“I don’t want to have a sleepover.”

“We play Nintendo in rumpus room.”

“No, thank you.”

“Make stuffed animal hump. Maybe trade hands.”

“What?”

“Trade hand. You use Kim hand. Kim use Josh hand. Go to work. Make feel good.”

“I don’t want to jerk you off, man.”

“No, no. Is not jerk me off. We jerk ourselves, but with each other hand. Is not gay.”

“Is gay.”

“Is not gay.”

“ISS PRETTY DAMN GAY, KIMMY GIBBLER.”

“Is no gay!”

“Hey, Elvis.”

“PASS.”

“Motherfucker.”

“I no talk to you, hillbilly. You ditch me in Vegas.”

“YOU WAS TALKIN’ CRAZY. COULDN’T UNNERSTAND A WORD YOU WAS SAYIN’.”

“No talk crazy! Was talking Korean!”

“YOU SAY CUH-RAZY, AH SAY KUH-REAN. SAME THING.”

“No same thing.”

“TELL IT T’ TH’ MARINES, BOY. NOW GET ON OUTTA THIS STORYLINE. THAT YOUNG MAN AH DO NOT CARE FOR WAS RIGHT. YOU AIN’T NO FAN FAVORITE. TH’ KING IS A FAN FAVORITE.”

“In small dose. You wear out welcome.”

“DON’T YOU GET META-REFERENTIAL ON ME, BOY! NOW, GIT!”

“You guy suck.”

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

“CAN’T STAND THAT GUY, MAN. FAT, CRAZY, EV’RYBODY DOIN’ WHATEVER HE SAYS.”

“Um.”

“YOU STILL HERE?”

“Yeah, Elvis. Thanks for the help with Kim Jong–”

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

“Motherfucker!”

You brought this on yourself, Hawk.

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

The Joining Of The Two

“Hey, asshole. I’m a ballerina. Looka me dance.”

Hey, Phil from ’85. Everybody’s looking for you.

“Let ’em look for my balls, and then let ’em suuuuuuuuuck.”

Please give back all the time machines and the ham.

“I ate the ham.”

Please give back the time machines.

“Top-notch ham.”

This is not about the ham.

“Still had the bone in. Picked it up and ate it like a turkey leg. Took off my shirt because I got sweaty.”

Holy shit, do I want to stop talking about this fucking ham.

“The Jewish thing?”

No, I’m just nauseated .

“Nauseated is a very Jewish thing to be.”

Can we discuss the–

“Actually, that sounds great.”

HUHWHLORF

Ew.

“The Heinies needed some breathing room.”

“Jesus, man. You’re a mess.”

“Who’s that?”

“I’m 2016 Phil.”

Oh, no. NO. One iteration at a time!

“Stay out of this, young man.”

“Yeah, stay out of this, similarly-aged man.”

“Dammit, 85 Phil: fat, drunk, and stealing time machines is no way to go through life.”

“Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my father.”

“No, I’m you.”

“Right. Heinie?”

“No.”

“Doobie?”

“Sure.”

chik

Pwof Pwof Pwof

PHWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“That’s good doobie.”

Okay, I officially have no fucking idea what’s happening.

“Well, whose fault is that?”

“Ha, burnt.”

“Jackass, give the time machines back.”

“No.”

“I tried.”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH 2016 PHIL WAS NOT ON THE PHONE

“He yoinked the doobie!”

Phil from 1985, I need you to concentrate. What have you done with the devices powerful enough to rend time itself in half like a bootleg tee-shirt?

“No more devices. No more Time Cape. No more Time Sheath.”

Oh, God, what did you do?

“Time Sweatband.”

Dammit. Why?

“You can lose a sheath. Capes get dropped. Sweatband? That fucker stays put.”

True.

“My forearm is the nexus of all realities.”

Yes, but my point is: that’s not optimal. Can’t you at least give that thing to a more sober iteration?

“Fuck those guys. Phil from ’78 owes me $20. Besides, I like it. It’s like my Apple Watch.”

How is a Time Sweatband like an Apple Watch?

“Can’t FaceTime on either.”

Irrelevant.

MEANWHILE

“HAIRY GARCIA, AH REGRET EVER WANTIN’ TO KARATE WITH YOU IN VIOLENCE. AH WISH T’ NOW KARATE WITH YOU IN FRIENDSHIP, AN’ MAYBE DO SOME BIBLE STUDY T’GETHER.”

“Uh, yeah. Okee-doke.”

“THIS HERE ROAD TRIP DONE BROUGHT ME CLOSER T’ YOU THAN AH HAVE BEEN WITH ANY MAN. THESE MILES DONE GLUED US! YER WISE WORDS IN MAH EAR, YOUR POLK SALAD AGAINST MAH BACK. WE ARE NOW BROTHERS.”

“We’ve only gone, like, six miles. You keep stopping so let people admire you.”

“AH COULD NOT DEPRIVE TH’ PEOPLE OF THAT. EV’RY MAN, WOMAN, AND ITTY BITTY THING DESERVES A CHANCE T’ TELL ME HOW WUNNERFUL AH AM.”

“And Wendy’s.”

“AH ALSO WANTED WENDY’S.”

“I’m just saying, you know: we’re never gonna get there at this pace.”

“WE AIN’ GOIN’ THERE, MAN. WE GOIN’ THEN.”

“Ah. Yeah, then I guess we got all the time in the world.”

“CONSISTENTLY ODD HOW AH AM TH’ ONLY ONE ‘ROUND HERE THAT UNNERSTANDS TH’ FULL RAMIFICATIONS O’ HAVIN’ A TIME MACHINE.”

“Sloppy writing masquerading as a running joke.”

“THASS PROB’LY IT. YER SO SMART, HAIRY GARCIA. HOW YOU FIXED ON SCARVES?”

“All set.”

“WAWA?”

“Fine, thanks.”

“LOOKIT ME, MAN. AH’M YER CHARLIE HODGE. THASS TH’ DEPTH OF MAH MANLY FEELINGS F’R YOU, HAIRY GARCIA. WE LIKE ACHILLES AN’ PATROCLES, MAN.”

“I, uh, don’t really wanna have that kind of relationship with you, Elvis.”

“WE OUT THERE PLAYIN’ OUR BEAUTIFUL MUSIC IN TROY, BUT MAH HEEBIE-JEEBIES ACT UP! AH CANNOT LEAVE MAH DRESSING ROOM. SO, OUT OF YER LOVE F’R ME, YOU DON MAH JUMPSUIT AN’ ENNERTAIN ALL TH’ NICE PEOPLE.”

“Pass.”

“BUT THEN A GUY KILLS YOU, SPURRIN’ ME INTA ACTION, AN’ SONG. AN’ THEN AH KILL A HORSE WITH KARATE.”

“You’re getting your epics mixed up, and I still pass.”

“IF YOU WANT, YOU C’N HOL’ ON TIGHTER.”

“I’m fine.”

“DON’ BE AFRAID TO, IS WHAT AH’M SAYIN’.”

“Noted.”

“WHATCHOO WANT AT BURGER KING?”

“I’m still working on my chili.”

“YOU GOTTA GO?”

“No.”

“AH GET EIGHT WHOPPERS, HOW MANY YOU GONNA EAT?”

“None.”

“AH WILL EAT EIGHT WHOPPERS.”

“Sure.

“YOU MAH BEST FRIEND, HAIRY GARCIA.”

“You bet.”

“NOW LESS GO DEFEAT COMMUNISM.”

“Hit it.”

An Increasingly Convoluted Happenstance

Aren’t you and Elvis supposed to be saving the world from Communism or something?

“That’s the plan, yeah. Waiting on him. Decided to come back to Daytona for a minute.”

Why?

“Enjoyed it.”

Yeah?

“Yup, yup.”

Bobby, please don’t use the Time Sheath to give Lillian Monster a do-over. We’re all unhappy she crashed, but this wanton use of time-altering devices is what got us here in the first place.

“Superman did it.”

And people are still mad at that part of the movie. It was very dumb.

“Admittedly, yeah, but there’s still precedent.”

Please don’t.

“She’s been moping around the house, man. Hasn’t told me she’s a vegan in a week.”

Oh, that’s not good.

“So, you know:  and then Elvis gets here, quick chrono-reset, and then, you know…whatever the hell is next.”

I advise against this.

“I’ll take your advice under advisement.”

“WE GOT OURSELVES ANOTHER DANG SITUATION!”

Oh, what now?

“Hey, Elvis.”

“YER DINGDONG BASS PLAYER DONE STOLE BACK THE TIME SCARF AN’–”

“HAIRY GARCIA!? WHAT HAPPENED T’ HAIRLESS GARCIA?”

“Okay, see: I am both of those people, but I’m actually not that person and also that’s the wrong name.”

“AH UNNERSTOOD NONE O’ THAT.”

“Yeah, but it’s all logical. Go check.”

“AIN’T NO REVERSE TO TH’ KING! AH GO FORWARD, MAN, OR SOMETIMES SIDE T’ SIDE, AN’ ALSO AH REST SOMETIMES.”

“Sweet ride.”

“YOU HAVE A JEWELER’S EYE, BOY. THIS HERE’S A PIECE O’ DETROIT STEEL MADE RIGHT IN MEMPHIS. AH CALL IT TH’ CHARIOT, HOW YOU LIKE THEM SWEET TITTIES?”

“Bike’s great, titties are great. All in, Elvis.”

“GOOD T’ HEAR.”

“Who’s your buddy?”

“THIS A HOBO AH PICKED UP ON MAH TRAVELS. IN CASE OF DINOSAUR ATTACK, AH PLANNED TO THROW THE VAGRANT TO TH’ BEAST.”

“Well, it’s good that you didn’t have to. I guess that means no more dinosaurs?”

“NO, THIS HERE’S TH’ NINTH HOBO AH’VE PICKED UP. REST ALL GOT ET UP.”

“Ah.”

Guys. I need both of you to concentrate. Elvis, what did you say about the Time Sheath–

“SCARF!”

“He calls it a scarf.”

–getting stolen by Phil?

“WHO?”

The bass player.

“The bass player.”

“YESSIR, THAT DRUNKEN FOOL DONE SNUCK INT’ MAH PRIVATE HOME AN’ STOLE AWAY WITH THE TIME SCARF. AN’ ALSO TH’ TIME CAPE. AN’ HE RUMMAGED THROUGH MAH MEDICINE CABINET SOMETHIN’ FIERCE. PLUS, HE MIGHTA STOLEN CHARLIE HODGE.”

Might have?

“CHARLIE HODGE COULDA ALSO GOTTEN ET BY TH’ STEGOSAURUS IN TH’ RACQUETBALL COURT.”

That thing’s still in there?

“WELL, WHY DON’ YOU TELL ME HOW T’ GET A 80-TON IGUANA OUTTA A RACQUETBALL COURT? WE DONE CALLED EV’RY EXTERMINATOR IN TOWN.”

They all refused?

“THEY ALL GOT ET!”

We need to stay on topic. You have a habit of digressing.

“MAH MIND WANDERS LIKE A PROPHET.”

Phil—the bass player–has all the time machines?

“AN’ AH BELIEVE HE STOLE A HAM FROM ME.”

The ham is not important.

“AH HAD MAH MOUTH ALL FIXED FOR IT.”

Forget about the ham.

“GONNA HAVE MISS MARY COVER IT UP WITH MAGIC SHELL. THAT CHOCOLATE STUFF GETS ALL HARD, MAN? THASS A DANG MIRACLE. COMES OUT SOFT, GETS HARD. LIKE IF A BONER WAS DELICIOUS.

“I agree. You can’t beat Magic Shell.”

Bobby, I forgot you were here.

“Elvis draws a lot of attention.”

“AH AM A SPECTACLE.”

So, neither of you has any sort of time machine?

“Nope.”

“AH DO NOT. LEMME ASK TH’ HOBO.”

“HE DOES NOT.”

Great. You two are useless. I’ll handle this.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“This is Phil Lesh of the Grateful Dead.”

Give back the Time Sheath; give back the Time Cape; you can keep the ham.

“You got the wrong guy.”

You just said you were Phil Lesh.

“I’m Phil from ’95.”

Dammit. I misdialed. Sorry.

“You looking for ’78 me? He owes me $20.”

’85 version.

“What did that drunken jackass do now?”

Stole a couple time machines.

“And a ham?”

And a ham.

“Not my problem.”

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

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