Thoughts On The Dead

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

Thoughts And Prayers At The Lapin Agile

“Hey, Thoughts!”

“Prayers! Get over here, you mug.”

HUGGING NOISE

“Man, we’re seeing a lot of each other lately.”

“I’ve spent more time with you this year than I have with my wife.”

“How is Best Wishes?”

“She’s really suffering from the Munchausen-by-proxy. Well, she isn’t suffering. The kids are. But, still: terrible.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“What are you gonna do? I guess we should get to work, huh?”

“Nothing’s gonna get done without Thoughts and Prayers.”

“This is our biggest job in a while.”

“So sad, Thoughts.”

“It is, Prayers. And that’s why these people need us so badly. Nothing heals a broken heart like Thoughts and Prayers.”

“Most of these folks have gunshot wounds, though. Do we heal those?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“But don’t let that distract you. We have a job to do.”

“Uh-huh. What is our job, Thoughts?”

“We get sent.”

“Like mail?”

“No, not really. Not like mail. Mail’s a tangible thing.”

“So, um, like a message? Like, Randolph tells Klaus to tell Marguerite to go fuck herself?”

“Not quite like that, either. A message has a specific recipient and may alter behavior. We’re more diffuse.”

“Okay. So, what is our actual job?”

“I’ve told you that: we get sent.”

“And then what?”

“And then nothing. That’s all there is to it.”

“We’re not actually doing anything, are we?”

“Not with that attitude.”

“I’m just saying what if instead of sending us, people did something. You know: committed an action.”

COLLAR-GRABBING NOISE

“Okay, listen here you little shit. This is the best gig I’ve ever had and you will not fuck this up for me. I have a mortgage, motherfucker.”

“Let me go.”

COLLAR-RELEASING NOISE

“You’re a dick.”

“I’m a dick with a good thing going, and so are you, bucko. Stay on the reservation. I can do this job on my own.”

“Really? You think people are just gonna send thoughts? Fuck that. I’m the headliner here. You’re nothing without me, asshole.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’re Andrew Ridgeley, buddy.”

“FUCK YOU, PRAYERS!”

“SUCK MY BALLS, THOUGHTS!”

CONCEPTS HAVING A SLAP FIGHT NOISE

“Are you done?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yes. Check your Twitter.”

“Ooh, Rhianna just sent us to Vegas.”

“Vegas, baby.”

2 Comments

  1. Luther Von Baconson

    October 3, 2017 at 5:55 pm

    “I’m Thoughts, He’s Prayers
    We’re a coupla real Players”

  2. Very well said.

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