Robert Mueller III is shaking his head. and when he shakes his head, the whole world shakes to a side and feels cold. MEANWHILE Jodie Whittaker is relaxing in the hot tub on top of the Cream House roof.
Jodie: what's the S stand for?
Mueller: Superman. but it's not about me. i am so heartened and disheartened this day, and frustrated this fraction of time. at the same time. call me the Grinch, my heart has equaled out. while i have confiscated the boxing gloves and plastic handcuffs of my protégé, i stand out in this cold without a successor to declare time's up. for me. i feel it in my gray bones, i am not long for this world, the investigation has given even me stress, and it's weird cos I'VE forgotten how i sound like. don't know how much longer i can hold out.
Jodie: *arm in a rainbow sleeve over the railing of the jacuzzi* he was such an ingenue. when his head shook there was only a blinding light. Time's Up, amirite? too right. are you talking about No-Nut November? i'm doing just fine meself.
Mueller: would you care to train with me? i need a new Naruto.
Jodie: trainers? i quite like the pair of '70s slippers i got as shoes from Yaz. taken a shine to them.
Mueller: slappers? no i'm not calling you fat. Long Live The Yas Queen.
Laertus sneaks onto the only bush on the roof to take his selfie picture.
Jodie: oy, freak. feminist here. don't let my laissez-faire hair and toothy grin and horse laugh fool ye.
Laertus: you have it all wrong, ma'am, that's my friend you sensed. may i soak my feet in the tub? i've climbed a long way. i won't look at you in your swimsuit, i'll merely close my eyes and enjoy being in the same pool of presence as you. my smile will be one of platonic power. and i shall be a satisfied man with that.
Jodie: you a kooky bird like me, i likey. is this the cork-soakers thing? i've always been more fascinated with your side of the pond, like my favorite show ever is anything with Brooklyn and Andy Samberg. alrighty, tuck in. i only wear swimsuits when i'm on the beach with my Latin lover for sneaky The Globe snaps.
Laertus: *gets in eyes closed* thank you. this means the world to me. and the universe. suddenly i have all the time in the world...
Mueller assumes the kneeldown of NFL players and The Thinker.
Mueller: one thing buoys me in my hour of grief: the display New York City showed me, especially Brooklyn, that hour of unprecedented kindness shown me on the Arab street. i mean i never thought in all my years as a hardnosed prosecutor there'd be a protest march for me, ME! when i saw the dude with the sign which read
Down With This Sort of Thing
i knew i was amongst friends, amongst my people. i started eating apples again, even at my late age. the poison apple is a sign of hope and love.
Jodie: those strange NYC birds really get up there, you have to understand something about them: they will do a parade for ANYTHING, literally ANYTHING. they will run just to jog. oy, okay mate, you spill your apples into my jacuzzi pool here and i'll dunk my head to bob 'em, Bob...you tell me when to come up for air...
at the MSNBC Studios, Katy Tur is on remote:
she accosts an ordinary plain non-scary black voter in Florida.
Katy: ma'am, i'm not Jim. whom did you vote for today?
black woman: but this IS Jim. i ain't got to tell you a damn thing, princess! turn around, let me see your ass in jeans! who do you think you are!? this is MY county! did you wait in line? as it snaked all the way to the other side of the Border's? did you get your hyphenated-name misspelled and disrolled? this ain't cinnamon buns, this is real-life Leia!
Katy: my last name is Tur. many have wanted me to disrobe but i've only entered a wet t-shirt contest thus far. not in college.
black woman: turd. you look turnt. imma sue. get yoself some hot-buttered rolls and some Keith-lime pie while you down here! we ain't got no time for the elites and their separate but inequal nappyheaded rolls! know your role and slow it!
Chris Matthews: *in the studio* and thank you, Katy Tur. are you still glad all this happened to you? anyway, i was thinking of something...on the tip of my green tongue...amber tongue...the many faces of?...of?...it'll come to me...EVE! EVE!
Gordon "The G" Chang: no, ITO! you're thinking of three faces like my wife.
Chris gavels for the day, blank look across his stare.
just next door, Pete Davidson is having it out heatedly with his ex. on the last coiled phone in the city, spraypainted yellow and no-wave:
Pete: *waving* no, YOU listen! you really dumped me cos you thought it was time to be with a black man?
Ariana Grande: babe, just listen, podcast voices. i thought Mac Miller was black, too. it's just, with this body of mine, it would be a waste not to, don't you think? it's high time. the only shade balls I know are those in the L.A. River and the ones in boba tea. but that's not the issue. get your tissues. you are a comedian. repeat: comedian. your job is to disrupt, to chaos-agent, to chaosicitate, your job is to tell the offcolor controversial thing outloud others are afraid to. don't apologize EVER for ANYTHING you ever say or do, you lose your edge. real edge. only issue some penis. that's what made me fall in love with you in the first place, you looked like a cow who didn't kowtow.
Pete: i do look like a cow,
Ariana: but you ain't brown. you got a lot of parking tickets, you were living on the edge. of the curb. don't you get it? the more people hate you, the better. don't let an eyepatch patch over crimes. legislative crimes. the troops are jerks, that is straight from the horse's mouth. comedy is never supposed to be LIKED. you don't "like" comedians on instagram, you learn from them. wow, wish we had this conversation before. oh well, too late now. now do you feel better? pep in yo step from the pep talk? no more Pepe?
Pete: *sobbing indistinctly in the background in the far corner of the SNL Studio*
Ariana: Pete? you there? babe?...
Pete: ……………………………………………………………….*softly* shade balls are black balls...
Melania storms into the white doors of the West Side from the East Side, a room she doesn't like being in very long, it gives her the creeps. there's an air of decay, old power flustering, and charred wings.
Melania: MICKEY! get right here right now! what is going on! where's my husband?
Ricardel: dunno, senora.
Melania: Luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuucy, i'm hooooooooooooooome!
Ricardel: that is not cool in my fragile state, ma'am.
Melania: i am your mirror, Mira.
Ricardel: why'd you say all those harsh things anonymously online about me? you called me fat and said i'd never find a man. you said no fat man would ever love me. you told me to kill myself cos i never made cheerleader in high school and i wasn't one of the original Jamestown settlers. you told me the quickest way to die was to eat the creamy Cream House food! and what's this final request to take the green jacket?
Melania: that godawful ghastly olive-green jacket, take it with you as i kick you out, it's yours! you caused it. that jacket was the remnants of the Christmas tree you picked out from the Obec Woods forest which was gonna be the Times Square Christmas Tree but it died en route on a logger! everyone around this staff called it Frogger! never want to see that article of tatter again, such terrible melania melanin memories! i like BLACK olives!
Ricardel: it wasn't my fault, Madam, i didn't know that forest was Black!
Melania: *softly" sorry but...ya fired...oh yes, *yellow glint in her cat's-eye* now i remember...i suddenly remember the power i actually wield...i wrapped up my husband cos he was getting out of handsy...unmanageable...you need to be a manager...
President Bump is stuck on the Oval Office ceiling, inside a tightly-wound cocoon of grey spindlings and insect tape. it's uncomfortable in there but he still manages to breathe.
Melania: Mickey why are you sulking and skulking all of a sudden?
Bump: i don't wanna talk about it, Me. leave me alone.
Melania: address me from now on as Lady Macbeth! it'll be the first time you ever address me as a lady! what's this i hear about your extramarital affair with Kyrsten Sinema?
Bump: no you don't understand, you never do! it's not what you think. i went to the cinema to indulge in the latest Orson Welles picture cos we're both misunderstood fat men. Orson told me through the screen that i was a windbag and that i wouldn't get it and i would never get in here. the blonde happened to be in the same club, Kyrsten is just a Krysten who's porn-curious. i took my sticks from out my pocket and banged them on her tits SIMPLY as a rain dance thing, we need rain. that's what Hollywood gets for those Midterm results, it's punishment, fires direct from Codrus Himself, He was angry that day my friends. the woolly mammoth has come back to life. Gina has been mysteriously absent since the drought started. and the famine, but i didn't indulge to eat her. i can't dance, you see.
Melania: i know. in a bed or otherwise.
Bump: that's the reason Sinema won, bigger tits, obvi. needed to recount those puppies. she opens up wider everyday. dogs can even make bitches happy again. embarrassed from the farmer Orson quotes in the New York Times, i set about to lose a few pounds. all my friends are proud of me. i don't exercise so i holed myself in this spiderweb and went on a starvation diet, that's the quickie Hollywood way, i like crash. so don't send up any McDonald's burgers tonight, well okay one, and one can of dirt soda uh diet soda cos diet soda doesn't cause cancer that's fake science---unless it's Taylor Swift Diet Dirt Coke---but it does cause diabetes but i have bone spurs sours in my feet to protect me from diabetes-foot-cutoff. won't get carved like a bumpy Halloween pumpkin down there.
Melania: don't remind me of your dirty coke. and why did you lock me in my room in Paris so i couldn't see anything!? that was supposed to be my Jackie O moment! i can relate to that Tim guy who always sues you, we're both frankensteins! his is more in the forehead and me the face.
Bump: TOO MUCH RAIN!!! too much rain down there. and Macron STOLE MY UMBRELLA!!! yeah yeah, that was MY umbrella but he stole it from my locker, like a swiper fox, just janked it from under me while everyone was gathering for the group photo at the UN for Champs. the Champs is for chumps. what's the point of global water rules? as long as Patchy the Pirate supports me i'm buoyed.
Melania: at least you aren't bouncing off the walls like earlier. what is it that you're wearing? a second change of clothes?
Bump: you can see through to in here? just my Packers Cheesehead hat, don't call me Dutch. yeah those are still my people down there. Plum Boys, right? don't worry, i'll buy them all the Lucky Charms they want, only i can. and no girl over there ever stays missing. don't ever say i don't shape the minds of the youth, the disenfranchised society has thrown away. everyone needs a club. it's the only hat which fits my hair.
Melania: maybe it's time to get out of there and go meet with your friends. go to Moe's. i hate having you stuck in the house all the time.
Bump: i would but nobody wants to play with me. i had a sauna setup but the one guy said he had to get his batteries recharged that night---which is guy code for he's washing his hair. and Wilford Brimley told me like a hot gun to my face when we were hothousing that i was too old. it was the stranger thing, his mustache told me, his mouth never moved. like an angry caterpillar straight from Wikipedia. i saw it all: the wandering waves wafting on the surface of the jacuzzi pool like a celestial startrail, the stucco-balled sides and the mint-green tile floor, the stage was set for something special or even serial, for an apparition to appear.
Melania: your boss?
Bump: no, i was hoping for a naked angel intern chick with a sword or something but it was a naked Jim Acosta wth a microphone whacking me in the balls. that foamhead hurts! microfoam. made me pee coffee. don't ever say i don't protect women. and that i don't know where the camera is at all times. hey can you give me back my twitter phone? i'm gonna get a call soon from my friend.
Melania: your friend?
Bump: yeah, Draymond, he's like family. hi, Draymond, no this isn't about the cheeseburger pizza. well i've been feeling down lately cos i ate that green burger. been trying to get it out of my system but the system's rigged. *points at the phone* hey, yous a bitch!!!
Draymond: what, nigga!!?
Bump: see how it feels?
Draymond: thanks, man.
Bump: *hangs up twitter* oh me oh my, i think i'll stay up here longer still. i do this in remembrance, as a tribute, see i've seen the future, i already know what happens. he was the mentor on all of our sides, not just mine. he was our driving creative force! he got me through my childhood and saved my life! he rogered Mister Rogers. the father of modern mythology. TH is a big word for him. if you didn't self-flagellate before the flag before, he will certainly whip you good till you self-flatulate.
Melania: your mentor? whom could you possibly mean?
Bump: Codrus of course. God is dead!
the crones are preparing for supper. Gladyce happily sets the table happily floating on top of the ocean while Doryce sets up the Vienna sausages. some witches prefer to fly hover just above while others like to keep one half swimming like a dog but the reminder of drowning is too painful for some.
Gladyce: love the everlightburning candles, dear, nice touch in these stormy swells and grey skies.
Doryce: OMG these little hot dogs in the fog are too adorable! too cute to eat! pigs without a blanket i just want to cuddle them and kiss them and give them my blanket to keep them warm, not heat them up inside my mouth and pic them. spread the blanket over the water, pigs will never drown they have wings!
Gladyce: yeah but the water they come in, is it canned water? it tastes like pool.
Doryce: you know Vienna is where man first conceived the atom bomb, man's clumsy attempt at matching a woman's power. where the most delicate Classical music was birthed, keys needed to be slayed by ladyfingers, like Mozart. where the first warlock, Freud, elevated mothers. here Klimt first painted an ass that wasn't him. and where the first Federer came.
Gladyce: sorry, dear, i can't eat another bite. of this crunchy toenail? it's just all these look like dog's toes and i just came from grooming a thousand dog nails, clipping them on a clipper and painting them pink like this shade. they look like dog toes. if you squint, they look like squinting dog toes.
Doryce: okay. well I can't eat another bite of bacon or bacon bits, so what do we do? besides being even.
Gladyce: that's okay, i'm sick of bacon.
Doryce: yeah i'm sick of bacon, too! yay! we're women again! we can be ladies again, not hags! we can be pretty again!
Gladyce: yay! let's make love on top of the sea by matching our vibration to the potential energy of an ocean wave.
at LuSh, Madame Pons is meeting with an important member, big woman on campus:
Madame Pons: hello, Eye Luggage! no need to introduce, you're a big star! i get your podcast at my kitchen. you're a little mini heroine of mine. it's a big sprawling campus that gets lost in the woods, many voices unfortunately.
Eye Luggage: hopefully that's a temporary kitchen. i'm blushing but you didn't notice cos you were no doubt looking at my eyes.
Madame Pons: what can i do you for, superstar?
Eye Luggage: you're a wild witness, right? i read the youtube-comment annotation you left and verified with the matched blogs. let's keep this hush-hush, i have a reputation to maintain. online reputation. take a long look at the barrel of my slim thin silver Harley Quinn hammer here and tell me what you think. gaze at it from the end to the head and let your eyes sparkle with its grace and nobility and savagery.
Madame Pons: oh...…………...oh...……….okay……….now i see what's going on here, no worries your secret is safe with me, i can transform my mouth into a zipped pursebag that's the only spell i've mastered. let's get to work! oh, but first, can you use that hammer to smash this egg here?
Eye Luggage tries with all her might, she gets a running start and pushes down with all her latent strength, but fails. nothing, no crack.
Madame Pons: huh.
Dirg: i am so funny.
Dirg is at the Mansion, in fact he's already jumped the gate without having to jump. he's crawled over it and decides at this moment of triumph to call up his best pal.
Laertus: congrats. you're a webcrawler. but how? i saw google maps, the Mansion is crawling with guards and brown packages. and guards with brown packages. when did you learn parkour online? it's not like pushing a button and making video-game characters do impossible parkour jumps over gators. forcing into questionable territory.
Dirg: oh but it is. my package has a nice tan. i don't do exercise, even cool exercise.
Laertus: are you using those illegal football gloves the wide-receivers use to transform the funny ball into velcro JUST at the moment of catch?
Dirg: fuck the NFL! nope. i'm a superhero now. oh have i got a secret for you! but i'll tell you later.
Laertus: i've got a surprise for you, too, good buddy. you'll see later, too.
Dirg: great, can't wait. spring it on me in autumn.
Laertus: remember, dear Dirg, i'm your mirror, you need me to see yourself through...it's impossible to see yourself...
Dirg crawls up the side of the stone gray-brick mansion, turning each brick his hands and feet touch red in the process of leaving his trail up to the third storey and into the big bay bigass arched window. he enters sleuthly not letting the lilac lithe curtain drape over his head.
MEANWHILE Keya Morgan is coming from downstairs upstairs using the spiral. he passes by the groundfloor room Eye Luggage uses to tape her youtube show. her door is ajar and he can see the glint of purple.
Eye Luggage sits down in the center frame of her study with books in the background, lit library. she pushes the button and her camera rolls:
Eye Luggage: sorry, online fam, for the delay. i was at an important appointment. now where were we...
Keya reaches upstairs with a quickness and locks on Dirg's eyes immediately. Dirg's eyes widen as he gazes on Keya's haircut, focusing on the front, it just misses being an Undercut cos it connects pointedly to the purple triangular eyebrows Keya sports. like fuzzy caterpillars.
Keya: i know you. you're disgusting and derelict in your duties and a disgrace to the cause. alert, intruder. i'll kill you myself, don't touch Master.
on a bed in the corner three rounded floormirrors look down on the person sleeping like a beauty on the outside of its covers. an old man holds a bouquet of pink flowers and wears a red sweater.
it's Stan Lee.
eyes closed still wearing his customary glasses. his hands form the Spider-Man thwip-shoot fingerguns which are perfect for holding the flowers like a human vase.
Dirg: OMG! is he?...on drugs?
Keya: the fuck?! you assume he's on drugs instead of dead?! i've NEVER received that reaction, you are a black swan. reception is perception. how could you have possibly known i mean chalk one up for experience, aye? get 'im guards i'm the only guard here, prepare to fall!
Keya lunges and charges but is stopped long when Stan Lee sits up on the bed and speaks.
Stan Lee: *grandfatherly in his radio voice* we all need to exhale in our lives, it cleanses the soul.
Dirg bows and doesn't kick and pulls his portfolio out of his pants.
Dirg: Larry Legend, please take a look at my work. i've worked on it.
Keya: sir don't listen to a lie this man says! i've seen his work, we all have here. i can boot up some of his glorious underpinned undertakings on my Pear Watch right now for you, my legend liege...look! see? here. this is the character we're dealing with you would never draw. at the latest Doctor Who AV Club comment section---those boys known for their commentariat---he leaves a comment "adding to the episode conversation" that is simply a picture of Jodie Whittaker from one of her movies naked topless, and his comment above it:
I don't know what a Whovian is, but nice tits!
Dirg: *gulps* how'd you know that was me!? i left my name and address off the comment box and it registered as blank and anonymous.
Stan Lee: let me get my glasses on...and take a look at your portfolio there, young man.
Stan pulls the papers from out Dirg's grasp. Dirg looks up.
Dirg: *surprised* wait...these aren't my drawings...clearly not my clear linework and pencil prowess. these are…
the three large cream-colored pages are the artwork of the Thirteenth Doctor crayoned by children with special needs inspired to draw for the first time that were featured on the Doctor Who aftershow.
Stan Lee smiles.
Keya Morgan scowls.
Dirg, wide-eyed and red, is embarrassed for the first time in his life.
No comments:
Post a Comment