Stan Lee: *spiritedly* please, son, no more swear words, my grandfatherly ears haven't the wax nor hair enough to take it on the tender skin.
Keya's eyelids are holding too much salty water and about to break but he helps the old codger up by the reinforced leather elbowpads of Stan's maroon smoking jacket. Stan blows a kiss in his general direction imitating a cigar which Stan never smoked. Keya fixes the affixed paper rose on Stan's laminated lapel.
Stan: cry, son, cry. let it all out. there is nothing more beautiful and more human than crying. what a wonder crying is! i mean you just start turning red and bustin' out with fucking water dripping from your eyeholes and noseholes, it's a bit alien! let that dam break, we all return to cradles and boughs.
Keya: thank you for the second, well third, chance, sir.
Dirg builds up his potential energy by swinging his forearm in a circle till it becomes an invisible Flash and just plants his dress-shoed foot on one of Stan's many carpets and just WALLOPS THE FUCK out of Keya's face, smashing it into billions of pieces of wet clay and tooths. the poor dude goes flying out the window with a crashing glassing sound even though there is no window on the high arched rectangle. he tries to hang on and shoot something from his cut wrists but they aren't developed yet and Keya can only shoot spit on the way down to his doom. landing in a trash bin which converts anything to a dry recycling product cube and tranforms like Bumblebee into a black rolling cart with 4x4 tires that tho black is still Autobot and gets transferred to the nearest recycling plant in the center of the sea on a conveyor belt in the vast Asian sea.
Dirg: see i don't trust recycling, it all has to go through China. never liked the name Autobot, auto implies automatic responses, like it's communistic, without thinking for oneself.
Stan: what the fuck, son. that nice boy was just about to tell me how he had taken care of me all these years…
Dirg: it was a gaslight, sir. he was just using you to further his career. to sell his script.
Stan: he kept telling me not to trust the woman...
Dirg: women are good at being nurses in porn but not in real life. and especially not YOUR nurses. those were obvious set-ups and clearly certain scams. and honeypots. and just plain honeys. i wonder how those women feel about what they did to you now? so close. I am your Full-Time Boy now! count on me for anything. ask me anything, not in the reddit way, in the way that i shall serve your every need.
Stan: every? i'm so old i don't care anymore. faces change but my place remains the same.
Dirg: Keya was feeding you drugs in your tea to keep you down. so he could have a hold on you till you'd owe him your debt and your death. you'd have to agree to sign on the dotted line before your eyes went dotty like a thought balloon. but not even deliberate drugging could keep down the spirit of your Force and your general cheery attitude about people. you trust too much, so that is why i know you can trust me on this.
Stan: maybe i'm being selfish...yeah has to...i'm just a selfish dottery old man who has been an old man even when i was young...always with the simple view on life...i'm never satisfied despite everything...i've been lucky, so lucky, too lucky...but...well...will you help an old man fulfill his final fantasy?
Dirg: *making weird hand gestures* i'd do anything fo' you, pops. i mean pop. fo sho. even give up my life. as a nerd. you're my father. thank you, sensei......so uh does this mean i can clear all the other applications off the glowing green screen of your old-skool computer?
Stan: who's there? other people applied?
Dirg: just Bill Maher…they cancelled his show again...
Eye Luggage: hello everypony! i hope you slept non-drug-induced well. this long holiday weekend. Thanksgiving is the worst, right? you're forced to cramp in and fit in like sardines with these strangers you've never met in your life! these strangers called family! you have nothing in common with these people the DNA tests must be wrong! i mean what are you supposed to say to them? of course your life sucks and there are no updates! your carefully-constructed cartoon schedule is suddenly upended in favor of some strange communal meal that starts at 3PM, no other meal will ever start at 3PM again! even anime wolves have the courtesy to eat the anime foxes on time! and in some cases some of my poor brothers and sisters and thirds listeners have sardines instead of turkey! no thirds nor seconds!
Laertus: romaine calm and carrot on. *he eats a carrot like Bugs Bunny* i've entered the chat. on the food front.
Eye Luggage: i trust all of my followers out there got a good dose of my livestream during the ENTIRE Thanksgiving weekend to give you a little bit of me to keep you warm like a glowing flatscreen. little bit of home, your e-home. a little excuse bathroom break you know, to stay plugged in to your real family during those awkward pauses and trying times. when you're trying to throw up.
Dirg: yeah what was that? my imagination ran the gamut of rampant tryna come up with it. it was you and your cute face and cute freckles popping out of a wedge of your huge blue fuzzy weighted blanket. but the viewing screen was a wedge, too, it was just this little sliver of lifecasting livestream that barely covered a column vertical. and every so often around noon and lunch and 45-minute intervals you'd smile and giggle and moan and an oddly-shaped hammerstick would rise the blanket like a teepee and go back down and you'd gasp with your eyes closed.
Eye Luggage: oh that was my Harley hammer under there. but it's not what you think. that blanket was covered in lice. had to poop under there.
Dirg: are you sure that wasn't your elbow-padded elbow that looked like it was armor-crested by a valkyrie?
Eye Luggage: today we have very special guests, in an effort to draw more viewers to my totals...
Dirg: you mean black voters. the urban collection. the UPN conglomerate cohort. and some woke WB whiteys in tightie-whities. to boost your sagging ratings with falsies.
Eye Luggage: ...my show will feature those with black features. my soul sistas! i'm so excited, finally my webber is cool! we've even...yes as you can see here. hear here...it's being rolled out right now like a wedge of cheese, thanks Jerome...
Jerome Corsi: part of my labor...
Eye Luggage: the famous and infamous Red Table all those cool black chicks gab on with their famous Hollywood friends on tv on bout the lesbian skinny REAL real talk when it comes to love and family and marriage. i can't get enough of this shit, it's the hot shit, and it's what keeps my troubled fragmented millennial mind wired to some good old-fashioned ancient spiritual wisdom from my Nubian princesses straight from the Homeland Hinterland Herself, Africa!
Dirg: this is hot shit! come on, you have Will Smith's wife here. she's not even anything spiritual, she's a Scientologist, that was the first cult in Medieval times, you know alchemy? anime, anyone? they even admit out loud that they're the Proud Illuminati. though i will say their headquarters are very filmic, bigass cracklin' neon letters to the sign with a S and a Y for psi on top of the Marriott Hotel where they filmed all the '30s movies. what happened to that dude's wife? Leah Remini wants to play her in the tv-movie.
Eye: hello, Jada. excuse the mess in the studio, just move the books from the background, Jerome, like you had to do with your show. make sure the red table fits in and replaces our old newsdesk. that's it. looks great up in here. how have you been? how's Will in his slim-fit pants? and your will? and the kids?
Dirg: the kids are ruining Pokémon.
Eye: your show is the best, so fresh and honest and unblinking, you get down to the nittygritty about life, you even talk about black depression, and you don't let Will off the hook at a wedding!
Jada: spit fire ho, welcome. i'm praying for you, EL. just feel it's time to talk. talk prevents wars, within families, which lead to wars. and misunderstandings. oh those motherfucking misunderstandings, they can last a lifetime.
Dirg: everyone and everything is misunderstood. but each side is too proud to admit it. your auditing is cool, unlike the stupid IRS.
Jada: that's why i'm brutally honest with my kids at the table, no peas but graphic depictions of me and Will's sex positions. i want them to learn about life, how it really be. we talk about my movie career and how i had better green lyrics than most California rappers but was not given my chance to shine on tape and how 2Pac was better in bed as a Hologram.
Dirg: speaking of hot shit, damn girl, you my chocolate sister! you hot fudge! what is your name, sweeties? you look like those bus-tour college students in Alabama with long skirts and even longer books who stopped giving a shit in the '60s. with butterflies in your hair and nets over your eyes in the Deep South.
Aisha Moodie-Mills: don't talk to me, i'm moody. i am wise beyond my years which i will not divulge my age and i make many cogent points but my smile is shy and i do it in a quiet coy catlike voice.
Dirg: break rye bread. i know, that's what makes yous sexy!!! you're black goth! your husband is a lucky man, does he have an instagram? i can get into your bed okay i can get into this show now, for manufacturing jobs! *Dirg raises the black-power fist* who else you got here guesting? Robin Roberts with the name that rolls off the tongue in a nest, with balls the size of robins-eggs, you are brave and ballsy and inspired me to truth, say what you said to that fake republican again, it was hilarious!
Robin: Omarosa legally changed her name at the courthouse to Felicia cos she wanted the rights and the royalties so she could be royalty to get paid on B.E.T. everytime that name appeared on a tv line. i talked her out of it cos Omarosa is such a distinguishing beautiful African princess native name. she's royally comed around.
Eye: and we welcome Mia Love, who got no love from the President. see, we're bothsidesism here, too. all that matters is that you're cool, so what happened with your race, Mia?
Mia: my political race, right?
Dirg: it was right. but you aren't appreciating the President's calculus. he sees that one thing about you and runs with it, regardless of party or named party. he's a maverick thinker. btw i know i say this to every woman i meet and encounter, but with your name you really should go into porn. or at least women's wrestling, which is a separate thing from men's wrestling, one is fake.
Eye: oh, here we go again, i can't block him for security reasons. the President has entered the chat. Mia Love has left the chat.
Bump: leftist. okay folks, country, i did it, i dared and you can eat romaine lettuce again like a man. i put out the fires myself, i went to each coast, the top and bottom of California…
Eye: you ruined all of our Thanksgivings!!! when it finally rains it rains on Thanksgiving?! come on! and then it rains again a second time on Black Friday!? that can't be a coincidence.
Bump: it's not good to buy too may things, that leads to consumerism and a bad economy. besides, the only water which matters came out of my penis, i watered down all the lettuce on the central coast and purified the romaine with my magic yellow pee. i made sure to save this precious water for that instead of the fires. and then i took a joint-shit with Adam Schiff into the soil ground of the largest lettuce farm in the world in the largest doublewide outhouse in the world which helped heal the rows more. see? bipartisanship. i shaked each farmer's hand afterwards.
Mueller: hi. hi, guys. what are you doing to me, guys?
Corsi: this is for sending those Mexican actors to the border of my courthouse location at my trial-set date to razz on me like i was a comedian or something. Honduran hecklers. they interviewed some dirty kid named Tres Leches holding up a sign saying Coming To America, You Old Fuddy-Duddy! i took it to mean he thought i was a Neil Diamond fan.
Mueller: those were some classic NYC signs.
Corsi: i'm a coarse negotiator. and a shrewd liar. anyone can write a book, just rub off the section. hi hi! there are no standards to publishing anymore, the printing press was a miracle but it's since lost its keys. it's called self-publishing, bitch! it's good that you thugs picked me up, it's good for my image and my listeners to have that Kenyan vase you broke over my head in anger for the back-out.
Mueller: i should have known better. never call to the carpet of my office a self-incriminating and lazy witness who has his own radio show, he's just gonna go back to that damn radio show and blab his fat gut and spill the beans he knows are Mexican and shouldn't spill cos they'll jump at ya. does a sealed indictment mean nothing to you? you're not supposed to talk about it, talkie! learn from my weird mouth! so much time, so many still hours, the case was airtight till you let the air outta the thought balloon! this ain't the latest sportsball game score, airhead, puck you! i burned your book at a university, we had an office party to relieve all the shouting tension.
Eye: okay, friends, that's it, make sure to take your rolled-up brown headband in your totebags by your waxed legs i left for you as gifts, not a Judge Judy loan. don't worry, there's a blacklight in there but no blackfishing line. ugh, those instagram influencers, amirite? all night long, is it lunch already?
Dirg: *his hands clasped in prayer and bowing with eyes shut* meet me in the Panther's Cage after the aftershow, my Dora Milaje.
Laertus: it's like Dennis Perkins from AV Club being called out by that latest Simpsons episode about tv-recappers.
Dirg: that was classic and brutal. his headline read The Simpsons Made Me Kill Myself. his review wasn't at all about the episode or if the drama was earned, but a kind of note to his doctor. he really reevaluated his whole life after that.
Laertus: i hear he's on the Spongebob beat now. his first assignment was the obituary for Stephen Hillenburg.
Dirg: Hillenburg, Hillenburg, sounds Jewish…
Laertus: no, Hillenburger, get it? died on the hill. of his real passion. that whole revolutionary cartoon was sneakily teaching us about marine biology.
Dirg: and sponges, guys don't know about that stuff. when he was showrunner Spongebob was adult swim. after he left, it became Nickelodeon.
Laertus: speaking of Nickelodoen, Amanda Bynes…
Dirg: wow, a Bynes sighting! a non-fat Bynes sighting! hey you having your dinner now?
Laertus: yup. my breakfast. drunk noodles. Thai-style. hear my slurping sound through the large mic?
Dirg: wish i hadn't, killed the mood. i was thinking of Amanda in her glorious prime.
Laertus: give the girl credit, she didn't blame twitter for her problems. and she is a veritable schizophrenic success story! i mean she actually overcame her mental illness instead of drowning to it to her dank detriment, coughing up cash and pearls of cum and coke instead of wisdom. parents, not pills, is the answer, they have psychiatric hold and influence over her. now she's ready to act right. she had a thing like Britney with the shaved head and a wafflehouse but it was less-publicized, more Mueller. it's never too early or late to throw it all away.
Dirg: i want to see her in binds. gotta hand it to Dan Snyder, somehow his toesucking survived the MeToo era. but what is she gonna return to? All That for adults? yeah, that's the ticket, have the show still be on Nickelodeon but the cast is all adults, that's the only way for Nickelodeon to out-Nickelodeon itself.
at the Tiger Woods/Phil Mickelson livestream, the only thing being filmed is not the golf tournament but the two blokes behind a desk parsing out and separating and dividing and divvying up and halving all the prizemoney in clear glass Deal or No Deal suitcases. the audience at home and crowd there live are less than enthusiastic and generally disappointed.
Tiger: thanks, Chuck, now my swing looks like yours, you couldn't keep talking the whole time and ruined my concentration during the tournament.
Charles Barkley: no problem, *belly laughing* i'm just turrible like that. *hits cigar on course*
Phil: *waves his hand to his face* oh you are so terrible, Chuck!
Tiger: i'm dead serious, can't you tell from my expression? i can't drive anymore, either. like a car. i picked a nice restaurant for us to post-celebrate, not that KFC on the corner who are just tryna sell out on the backs of our people. my back hurts. want some real waffles?
Bump: hello, i just came from lunch there at KFC...
and then the rest of the broadcast stream is just Phil trying to get Tiger to get him a date undercover with one of the Perkins waitresses. Phil has been lonely ever since his caddie Bones turned to bones. Phil still wants to be the family man taking pills on tv like Tiger, he wants it both ways. adding those pills on tv ads. Phil orders with his left hand.
Phil: waffle waitresses are the best…
Tiger introduces Phil to Dennis Perkins…
Gladyce: have you tried these Lindt chocolates, dear? they are so luxurious! cream in a bowl!
Doryce: oh my!
Gladyce: can't say that anymore...
Doryce: you are right! they are balls! good balls. remember when fudge was a thing? to eat and to play with in the bedroom? what mien! they taste like a mean match of European double-dutch rope! not double-dutch chocolate. the old country. when the name has a dt, you're in decadent territory!
Gladyce: i love all their wrappings and trappings, so festive! and they look like little mini Death Stars. they have the small indentation circle at the top of them and everything.
Doryce: cos chocolate is the enemy. death by chocolate. i have a middle waist that needs to be rounded up and go round and round like that Death Star laser. i need to do more exercise, more round and round on the double-dutch to swing my ass into dough ropes. speaking of the old country, wanna bagel?
Gladyce: are you asking me you want to eat out? on a date?
Doryce: truffles are Nature's way of telling us to have our bacon and eat it too.
Madame Pons: i'll be right with you, sir. have a seat in my backroom barbershop chair, sit back, it pumps up and down with air! like Air Jordans! you're my best customer, so best you're my client! i've been working hard for you!
Dirg: are you sure no one can see me here?
Pons: don't worry, everyone's in class it's the middle of the day in broad daylight! want a refill on those three there Erlenmeyer flasks you brought into my lush shop impressively holding all three with just your one hand?
Dirg: please. i love those long necks. do it under the counter, the physical counter so no one sees. you got that red spray that detects cameras in a room? if only Erin Andrews had had that spray she'd still be poor. and when you're done potioning please drop three drops of purple food-coloring into it, Purple-Drank scent. and can you trade the flasks with those Medieval glass bottles with the cork stopper that look like a Smurfs vinegar set? the ones Gargamel always used, the fatbottoms.
Pons: i just got the green Gargamel bottles. you stole these flasks from the college chem lab didn't you.
Dirg: project. pop-culture project. i saw the vaunted pilot of Breaking Bad finally...it's good but would not watch the second episode...did you know drugs make you thirsty for anal?
Pons: yeah they dry out your mouth. now please, sir, gently insert the egg into your dickhole. it should feel like a prick at first, but then you'll expand like female thought.
Dirg: oh. *breathes heavy and tries to look up and down* oooooh. ahhhhhh. agh. don't tell nobody but this is the best orgasm i never had!
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