Have you ever made love in the rain? Or in Spain? Or on a train? Or while enduring much pain? Over a stain? In a silo full of grain?
--L. Nar
L-L-Let's find out:
Have you ever made love in the rain?
Does uncontrollable crying during sex count?
Or in Spain?
Does uncontrollable crying during sex at an Almodóvar double feature count?
Or on a train?
Does impaling oneself on a model train while making mad, passionate monkey love to a model train collector count?
Or while enduring much pain?
Yes. Every time the resurrected Dr. Seuss breaks up, he writes a short story and reads it during the final, closing act of man-love. You'd be amazed at how many fictitious names rhyme with "smothered".
Over a stain?
Yes. It was on a bed of marmalade sandwiches. I do not recommend marmalade sandwiches for any purpose.
In a silo full of grain?
Not personally, but "wheatholing" has gained popularity among young, adventrous couples of all stripes in these Post-9/11 Times(tm). Cow-tipping as foreplay? Who knew?! Those wacky New Urbanists and their disposable income have done it again!
What is the meaning of life?
--Curious in Paragon City
At long last, somebody asks Mr. Cargo the meaning of life! The orgasmically tasty, definitive answer sits in an eye-dropper just a millimeter from the tip of your waiting, undulating, hungry tongue, and I intend to make it wait and undulate and hunger no more.
I have written this question on the back of a rejected Chinese fortune cookie slip and inserted it into the rear orifice of the Volvo Lady Wisdomtron 4444, on loan from the Swedes exclusively for the use of American answer/advice columnists such as Ann Landers and Marybeth Goldenrod. I happened to encounter the refined, Hyacinth Bucket-esque Ms. Goldenrod on a streetcorner by pure chance yesterday, and she just happened to be out walking Lady Wisdomtron 4444 (whose feces are rich in fertilizer and anecdotes for the daffodils, dare you bag it and add it to your compost pile).
The exchange went something like this:
"Well, right before my very eyes, it's the irrepressible wit that is Marybeth Goldenrod! Fancy being in eyeshot!"
"Nathaniel Congo, is iiiIiiIIit! My, what brings you to New Haven? Don't tell me you're here for Ladytron. You know the Swedes have forbidden the release of Fair Ladyborg to, uughhh, impostors. Like my mother used to say, neurotic, altitude-sick lardasses make better thong underwear models than they do answer/advice columnists! Never let them near Scandinavian robotic advice enhancement devices, in the event those are ever invented in your lifetime!"
"Oh, you know. On the way to Diedrich's, was beaten senseless and robbed, ended up drooling and semi-conscious on a Greyhound bus to Albany, where I was once again beaten senseless and forced at gunpoint to go back in time and beat myself senseless in 1992 and bring back my Bart Simpson wallet for my aggressor. Same ol'."
"How... eventful. Is that a water balloon full of lemonade in your left hand?"
"Yes, it is."
"I see."
"For a few minutes, that will change."
"This is indeed a disturbing, yet not entirely unexpected turn, you savage douchebag."
"Care to dance?"
"Considering what is about to transpire, I shall politely decl--"
I then throw the balloon into her face.
"--GAaAAAHhh!"
Enough temple-gripping and gyrating take place that I consider it dancing, and point and laugh with enough pomposity to make Sean Hannity pee blood.
"Told you you'd dance, you doily-making succubus!"
"*hisssssSSS!* This isn't the end, Nautilus Cornhole! We shall meet agaaAaAAIN!"
"Yes, we shall. We will dance."
"NeVEEER!"
"Never again, you mean?"
"GAAAAAaahhH!"
"That's right, you pretentious cow! Shake those udders for your people, the Cow People!"
"THAT'S NOT A REAL CIVILIZATION AND YOU KNOW IT! I HAVE NEVER ASSOCIATED WITH SUCH A GROUP, TRIBE OR SOCIOECONOMIC BRACKET! Oh, dearest, most dickulent motherfuck of a turn of events! Like Great Aunt Ethylene used to say, citric acid is your mucous membranes' ultimate unwanted houseguest! GaAAHH! IT BUUUUuuuUUURRrRrNS.... much less than it did a few minutes ago when this exchange was at its peak! I can almost... Wait, where'd--"
I then pull Ms. Goldenrod's 10-gallon hat over her face, grab Ladytron's leash and waddle back to the Greyhound station, where I am beaten into unconsciousness by a mysterious fat man who steals my Eric Cartman money clip and disappears into a wormhole.
And now, live from Denver, is the Volvo Lady Wisdomtron 4444, on loan from the Swedes to Marybeth Goldenrod!
BEEP. BEEP.
BEEP.
THIS IS NOT NEW HAVEN. YOU PROMISED ME ELECTRICITY. YOU PUT THE ELECTRICITY WHERE MY ANTIFREEZE GOES. I AM CURRENTLY LEECHING THE MAGNETIC ENERGY FROM YOUR DOWNSTAIRS NEIGHBORS AND SURROUNDING ELECTRICAL APPLIANCES TO SURVIVE. HAVE YOU EVER SEEN 'THE PHILADELPHIA EXPERIMENT'? THAT HAPPENED IN MY NATIVE SWEDEN, TOO. THEY DON'T TALK ABOUT IT MUCH. ONE ABBA REFERENCE AND I WILL COOK YOU.
Uhm... yeah.
THANK YOU FOR PUTTING ELECTRICITY WHERE MY ELECTRICITY GOES. I AM NOW RETURNING TO PROPER SPECIFICATIONS AND WILL EXECUTE THE REQUESTED FUNCTION IN VERY SHORT ORDER. YOUR REJECTED CHINESE FORTUNE: A KICK SQUARE IN THE NUTS IS BEST ACHIEVED WITH RUBIK'S CUBES TIED TO ONE'S BOOTS.
I HAVE HERE A PARAGONIAN INQUIRER WHO WISHES TO KNOW THE MEANING OF 'LIFE'. ACCORDING TO MY DATABASES, 'LIFE' CAN BE BEST DESCRIBED AS A MULTI-FACETED LATTICEWORK OF TEXTURES AND SHADES OF YELLOW AND BROWN WITH HIDDEN TEXTURES AND FLAVORS NOT ALWAYS APPARENT FROM ITS BLAND EXTERIOR AND RELATIVE ULTIMATE FLAVORLESSNESS. INDEED, 'LIFE' BECOMES MORE THE MORE ONE ADDS TO IT. IN A STATE OF ENDLESS METAMORPHOSIS, THE OUTER FACADE GIVES WAY TO THE HIDDEN FIBERS WITHIN AS IT MINGLES WITH ITS FLUID, PEACEFUL SURROUNDINGS IN BETWEEN BEING GNASHED BETWEEN FORCES OF STRENGTH, HUNGER AND DESIRE.
ONE NEED ONLY SEE 'LIFE' AS RELATIVELY BLAND, MODESTLY FLAVORFUL FIBERS, COLORS AND POTENTIAL ENERGY HIDING INSIDE THE DARK, COLD BOX WHOSE OUTSIDES BEAR THE IMAGE OF A SMILING HUMAN CHILD.
I've... got something in my eye. I gotta go.
Ask Mr. Cargo!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment