Silly Rabbit

Silly Rabbit
to the tune of 'Live Forever'
by Oasis



(fade in on Trix Rabbit in drag confronting kids in front of a minivan parked on the curb)

Hey, kids! I'm your friendly meter maid
And you underpaid.
You could pay me with some Trix.
Wait, kids. Don't give in to fear and doubt
When my ears pop out
God, I really need a fix.

The best breakfast that I've seen
Or'ngey or'nge and limey green
There is nothing I won't do
For you kids' wildberry blue
But you put me on the skids
You say Trix are just for kids
And I'm nothing but a silly Rabbit...

I said, Hey, kids!
I've been waiting in the park
Out here in the dark
For you guys to happen by
Wait kids! It's not creepy in the least
No need for police
...Give it here, and no one dies.

Now you run, oh that's just great
I will never eat at this rate.
You ask why I'm up in arms
It's revenge for Lucky Charms
Oh, I steal? Well you do too,
And plus I'm taller than you.
Why am I just the silly Rabbit?

(Scooby-Doo style chase around park as Rabbit tries all kinds of disguises to get the cereal from the kids, while the kids try to find a policeman)

Maybe I'm a cereal criminal
But it's gettin' dull
'cause I just wanna taste
Lately I've been pickin' up my checks
And no one suspects
That I might purchase a box.

Finally I get to try
Some new Trix that aren't a lie
Here we go, and not too soon
Chomping down on milk and spoon
What the hell, this tastes like shit
All these years, and this is it?
I don't want it now that I have it...
I'm such a silly rabbit...
Such a silly rabbit...
Such a silly rabbit...
Such a silly rabbit...
Such a silly rabbit...
Such a silly rabbit...

(final instrumental is police showing up as Rabbit destroys Trix display in anger, kids point him out in a lineup and Rabbit is carted off to jail where other cartoon cereal mascots are also imprisoned, including the Cookie Crisp Crook, Sonny the Cuckoo, Lucky, Barney Rubble and other enemies of breakfasting children everywhere. Close on shot of Rabbit in cell as meal is slid under the door...and it's a bowl of Trix.)

Anteater

to the tune of "Maneater"
by Nelly Furtado

This video is slightly off from the mp3 version I used to write the parody. That's okay though because this video is hilarious.


Anteater
My fav'rite female thinks I'm yummy
I walk in the door, she wants to tongue me.
And it's not just me who's got the luck now
Ev'ryone in here could get a suck now
If you're alone with her in the backroom,
She will latch onto you like a vacuum
But before you get down on your knees knees,
I think you're thinkin' of the wrong species

She's an anteater
not an aardvark
here's the hard part
it's the snout that makes the diff.
She's an anteater
hide your ant farm
think she can't harm
it? You're wrong. And it's when, not if.
She's an anteater
weirder features
than most creatures:
platypus or a buffalo
She's an anteater
Friends of her might
Eat some termites
Stick a long tongue down the hole

Now when you walk into a pet shop,
Don't ask at the counter, you can't get one.
I know I said the animal's erotic,
But like a dancer, this pet is exotic.
And once you find one, you don't get a little kiss
You! get all slobbered by her proboscis!
She's doing all these things to keep you on your toes
Because I'd say she loves your, loves your long nose.

She's an anteater
not an aardvark
here's the hard part
it's the snout that makes the diff.
She's an anteater
hide your ant farm
think she can't harm
it? You're wrong. And it's when, not if.
She's an anteater
weirder features
than most creatures:
platypus or a buffalo
She's an anteater
Friends of her might
Eat some termites
Stick a long tongue down the hole

(singer sticks out tongue like he's an anteater)
Uh llleh-ull llleh-ull llleh-ull
Uh llleh-ull llleh-ull llleh-ull
Uh llleh-ull llleh-ull llleh-ull
(singer reaches behind him)
(uh weuh weuh weuh) AAAAaaaaaAAAA.
(singer pulls out raisins and peanut butter on celery)
(sticks out tongue as if eating raisins)
Uh llleh-ull llleh-ull llleh-ull
Uh llleh-ull llleh-ull llleh-ull
Uh llleh-ull llleh-ull llleh-ull
Uh llleh-ull llleh-ull llleh-ull

She's an anteater
not an aardvark
here's the hard part
it's the snout that makes the diff.
(as this chorus goes on, dance becomes jerkier and more spasm-ridden)
She's an anteater
hide your ant farm
think she can't harm
it? You're wrong. And it's when, not if.
She's an anteater
Make you freeze up,
Make you seize up,
make you fall down to the floor
(singer does)
She's an anteater
You don't look good
Maybe we should
Not be doing this any more.

I swear I thought it'd gotten better by now
I do not want to have another right now
Nelly Furtado is to blame, 'cause, let's see,
Her dancing looks too much like epilepsy
Sorry I'm bitter, but that didn't feel nice.
Well maybe I should seek a medic's advice.
I definitely need a medic's advice.
I'll go right now to get a medic's advice.

She's an anteater
not an aardvark
here's the hard part
it's the snout that makes the diff.
She's an anteater
hide your ant farm
think she can't harm
it? You're wrong. And it's when, not if.
She's an anteater
weirder features
than most creatures:
platypus or a buffalo
She's an anteater
Friends of her might
Eat some termites
Stick a long tongue down the hole

Uh llleh-ull llleh-ull llleh-ull
Uh llleh-ull llleh-ull llleh-ull
Uh llleh-ull llleh-ull llleh-ull
Uh llleh-ull llleh-ull llleh-ull

The Fandom Menace

It's my birthday, so a special parody today:
a parody of one of Weird Al Yankovic's original songs.
Yes, the ultimate parodic incest. And yet...

to the tune of "My Baby's In Love With Eddie Vedder"
by Weird Al Yankovic



The Fandom Menace
NOTE: In the chorus, the word "the" is emphasized and pronounced "thee".

Oh, my baby, my baby she don't want me no mo'
Ever since she saw him far away and long ago.
She says his light saber is cool and de-la-mode-ish
And he's so strong with the Force that you could almost call him Yodish.
Well, ask me if I care, I'll say I cannot be bothered.
But my girl loves the way he rasps out, "Hey, Luke, I am your father."

Well, my baby's in love with uh the Darth Vader
She's all crazy 'bout that crazy Darth Vader
She's out for my blood now so I guess I should evade her
'Cause my baby's in love with uh the Darth Vader.

Now, with that helmet on, you know he looks so bland
You'd never think that he'd just cut off his son's right hand
I mean sure, he's half-cyborg, and like father like son
But he's got far less morals than Attila the Hun.
But my girl can't get enough of his penchant for murder
Like he's some big iconic character, and I'm just a nerfherder

Well, my baby's in love with uh the Darth Vader
She'd crawl in a tonto with that weirdo Darth Vader
Endor was our Planet, but now it's just a crater
'Cause my baby's in love with
I said I said I said my baby's in love with uh the Darth Vader
Who even cares 'bout that stupid Darth Vader
They do say Sith Happens, so I guess I shouldn't hate her,
But my baby's in love with uh the Darth Vader

I knew we were headin' for disaster
When she caught me hangin' out with that Jedi master.
Now she's on some loony wacky kind of park ride
For the cold-blooded, fuddy-dudded, onyx-studded, stick-in-the-mud
Spokesman for the Emperor who turned them to the Dark Side.

Well, I can't kill a man just by squeezing my fingers,
And if I blow up a star system, the guilt really lingers,
And I don't sound asthmatic every time that I breathe,
(hhhhh, hhhhhh, hhhhh, hhhhhh)
But I know soon she'll be the one who'll grieve.
Yeah, well, let's just see how jealous she'll get
When I start stalking that cutie Boba Fett.

Well, my baby's in love with uh the Darth Vader
She's all crazy 'bout that crazy Darth Vader
She says she wouldn't leave him even if you paid her
'Cause my baby's in love with
I said I said I said my baby's in love with uh the Darth Vader
Not even Hayden Christensen, but just plain Darth Vader
I used to have sex with her, now I'm a masturbater.
'Cause my baby's in love with uh the Darth Vader.

Where Is My Dog?

Challenge from Matt:
"1. The parody of Blumchen's 'Heut ist mein Tag': 'Where is my dog?'
We (you) kept thinking about doing this, but never accomplished it."

to the tune of "Heut' Ist Mein Tag"
by Blümchen



NOTE: Throughout this music video, the singer should continue to --on fast forward-- run around her house and neighborhood looking for her dog. The entire thing should be done very surrealistically, as if the woman lived in one of those little kids' books with cardboard flaps you can pull open to see inside the barn or behind the bushes or whatever. You know, the ones with titles like "Are You My Mother?" or "Hide And Go Seek Kittens" or...

Where Is My Dog?

(Whenever stage directions are unavailable, imagine the singer either looking at what is being sung about, or else envision her looking all over the place for her dog)

...Where is my dog?

Where is my dog? (dog? dog? dog? dog? dog? dog? dog? dog?)

Look, this one hops, eats flies and ribbits.
No, that is a frog.
This one oinks and breastfeeds piglets.
No that is a hog.
This one built Abe Lincoln's housing.
No, that is a log.
This one leads by rabble-rousing.
That's a demagogue!

Where is my dog?
Where is my dog?
Where is my dog? (Where is my dog?)

Where is my dog?
Where is my dog?
Where is my dog? (my dog! my dog!)

(Instrumental Break)
(Singer ransacks a neighbor's house)
(Singer digs through a dumpster)
(Singer interrupts a surgery to rummage around in the patient's chest cavity)
(Singer lifts her bangs and tries to search her own forehead)

Is he hiding in the laundry?
No, that is a skunk.
Is he there with Michel Gondry?
No, that is Daft Punk
Is he underneath this brick wall?
No, that is asphault.
Are those children playing kickball?
No, that's basketball!

Where is my dog?
Where is my dog?
Where is my dog?

(Singer --in close-up-- is using telescope)

Where is my dog?
Where is my dog?
Where is my dog? (my dog! my dog!)

(Singer --in time lapse-- lands on desert island and digs up beach under giant letter X, finds a tresuare chest, opens it, but inside are nothing but cats that escape)

Where is my dog?
Where is my dog?
Where is my dog? (Where is my dog?)

Where is my dog?
Where is my dog?
Where is my dog? (my dog! my dog!)

(Singer tries to do an all-animals Word Search)
(Singer searches a page from a Where's Waldo book)
(Singer tries in vain to pick her dog out of a lineup of six men in dog costumes)
(Singer looks under couch cushions in a department store)

Where is my do-o-o-o-o-og?
Where is my do-o-o-o-o-og?
Where is my dog? dog? dog? dog? dog? dog? dog? dog? dog?

(Instrumental Break)
(Singer reaches to bottom of box of cereal desperately)
(Singer flails wildly in Chuck E Cheese ballpit as frightened kids scatter)
(Singer stands at Missing Person's desk at police station and sings right in the officer's face)
(Singer appears on the TV show Finders Keepers)

Where is my dog?
Where is my dog?
Where is my dog? (Where is my dog?)

Where is my dog?
Where is my dog?
Where is my dog? (my dog! my dog!)

(Singer gets lost in Hall of Mirrors)
(Singer --holding her breath-- looks wildly around underwater ship wreckage)
(Singer dangles informant by collar over the edge of a skyscraper)
(Singer runs through five-star restaurant's kitchen, looking under pot lids)

Where is my dog?
Where is my dog?
Where is my dog? (Where is my dog?)

Where is my dog?
Where is my dog?
Where is my dog? (my dog! my dog!)

(Instrumental Break)
(Singer spends entire last Instrumental in a pound, flinging puppies wildly around, as they are not her dog)
(Pan back, to show this on a closed-circuit security camera, and the Singer's dog is watching the feed, whining, and at last line puts his head to the ground and puts his paws on top of his eyes)

...Where is my dog?

The War On Scientology

Challenge from Joe Stuntman: "All the songs in your playlist sound like they could be parodies about Scientology." With that in mind, and with the current situation threatening the Church(as told by Warren Ellis + Update), I present:

to the tune of "Minority"
by Green Day



The War On Scientology

Anonymous called, "Hypocrisy!
We hate their ideology!
We will destroy their theology!"
Yeah, I'd hate to be Scientology.

They pledge allegiance to L. Ron Hubbard.
Their thetans rule their souls,
Their devotion is absurd.
They claim a jillion copies
of Dianetics sold.
E-meter tests
don't measure stress,
But that is Need To Know! HEY!

Here is the big thing that bothers me!
They've got the worst methodology.
I don't want a church that follows me,
But that's what you get with Scientology.

Here's Anonymous
with its Manifesto squeezed
into Youtube clips.
The Church can't be pleased
with
DENIAL OF SERVICE!

The Church...is doomed
Unless I miss my mark.
It serves them right for getting Isaac Hayes off of South Park.
They're creepy and they're kooky,
Their cause is without worth.
So please don't stall,
fuck 'em all;
It's Battlefield Earth! HEY!

Wreck the Church of Scientology!
They owe us all an apology;
They claimed spiritu'l technology,
But it's more like applied psychology! HEY!

(INSTRUMENTAL BREAK)

You'll prank, you'll fax,
You'll hack the Church apart.
Maybe once you're done you'll say, "Well, that was a good start.
Now next up we'll kill Judaism, Christianity.
Religion, it's
Opiates!
We want you all drug-free!" HEY!

Soon, through osmotic virology,
We'll fall to Project Chanology.
But though we may lose our demographies,
It's worth the War On Scientology!

(We're at war with) Scientology!
(We're at war with) Scientology!
(We're at war with) Scientology!
We're at war with Scientology! HEY!

The Meat Debate

to the tune of "The Sweet Escape"
by Gwen Stefani (feat. Akon)



The Meat Debate
by Simon FitzKit (feat. Eitan)

(Munch, munch, much, munch...)
WOOhoo, YEEhoo
WOOhoo, YEEhoo
WOOhoo, YEEhoo
WOOhoo, YEEhoo

If I could eat steak,
I would, 'cause all these years, I've been cruel
I have been quietly eating my hummus, breaking your one rule
You told me, "Baby, I do not love you any more
'Cause you haven't once tried to be a carnivore
God, who orders a BLT minus the B-e-e-e?"

Well, I could eat steak,
And thus act like a better boyfriend again.
I wouldn't have to be a vegan
Forever; we could be together!
So tell me, girl, what if I eat meat?

If I could eat meat,
Would you rethink and be my girl?
I'd swallow and then try not to hurl
It's nyasty --Oops, I mean, it's tasty
But please just don't ask me, what's my beef?
(Meat debate, meat debate)

(WOOhoo YEEhoo) I wanna getta away, Get away...
(WOOhoo YEEhoo) From all this meat debate, This meat debate...
(WOOhoo YEEhoo) I wanna get away, get away....
(WOOhoo) Yeah-ah-ah (YEEhoo)

So I could try
to gobble down a breast or a thigh
Some tenderloin
Now there's a meaty meal I could join
Pork by the pound
I'd scarf it down to keep you around
Don't diss the salads I've downed.
Let's look for some common ground...

...round! Baby...back ribs shouldn't faze me
Though they were once named Daisy
Standing out in a field grazing
Smother it in some gravy
I don't need to be quirky
I don't wanna be jerky:
No more tofurkey

If I could eat steak
And thus act like a better boyfriend again.
I wouldn't have to be a vegan
Forever; we could be together!
So tell me, girl, what if I eat meat?

If I could eat meat,
I know I'd feel like a bad man
But if you ask me to, then I can.
Whatever. If that will make it better,
Then tell me, girl, why don't I eat meat?
(Meat debate, meat debate)

(WOOhoo YEEhoo) //puts a bite of steak in mouth//
(WOOhoo YEEhoo) (speaking through mouthful:) If I could eat steak...
(WOOhoo YEEhoo) (about to be sick:) If I could eat steak...
(WOOhoo) //spits it up// (YEEhoo)

But hey, on second thought maybe it wasn't this boy
Who's to blame for the strain that you've caused over soy
Maybe that's the reason I've been looking so gree-ee-een

If I could eat steak...
...Well, first of all, what'd that even change?
My moral system would be deranged
Forever. You can't make that better!
Now tell me, girl, what if I eat meat?

Don't want to eat meat
But I know that you don't give a damn.
Why can't you love me for who I am?
Whatever. I could change ...However,
Just tell me girl, what if I weren't me?
(Me debate, me debate)

(WOOhoo YEEhoo) I wanna getta away, Get away...
(WOOhoo YEEhoo) From all this meat debate, This meat debate...
(WOOhoo YEEhoo) I wanna get away, get away....
(WOOhoo) Yeah-ah-ah (YEEhoo)

The All-New All-Different X-Chibi Part 3

It's been another year since Ted challenged me to recaption the X-Chibi.

And so, it's time for:

Another Original Strip and My Reworking (click image for larger version):

Impotence

First personal challenge of the new blog!
Challenge from Katie:
"Write one for Hemorrhage."

to the tune of "Hemorrhage"
by Fuel



Impotence
Don't get up, babe, we just lay down.
Maybe we could try...some role-play; that'd be cool.
Give it two or three more tries!
Please-don't sensationalize!
Don't you go texting: "He's got a little tool." Don't be cruel.

Don’t laaaaugh at me! It's just coincidence.
Don’t laaaaugh at me! My dick went limp, it's
Impotence! Impotence again.
My dick went limp, it's
Impotence! Impotence!
Enzyte's fading!

Oh holy hell; took three Viagras!
Why's this the only way...I can get it up?
Every time I've got to cheat--
Even jerking my own meat--
Or there'll be no skeet skeet.
Over and over I medicate, rinse, repeat

Don’t laaaaugh at me! Though I have no defense.
Don’t laaaaugh at me! My dick went limp, it's
Impotence! Impotence again.
My dick went limp, it's
Impotence! Impotence!
Enzyte's fading!

In my In-Box:
Spam to throw away!
Wait: 'Male Enhancement'? Don't mind-if-I do...
The South will rise agaaaaaaain!

Don’t laaaaugh at me! It's really quite immense.
Don’t laaaaugh at me! My dick went limp, it's
Impotence! Impotence again.
My dick went limp, it's
Impotence! Impotence again.
My dick went limp, it's
In my hands, in my hands again.
Oh-oh-oh-ohhhhhhhhhhh...

Naked

to the tune of Fake It"
by Seether

Seether - Fake It

Naked
Who's to know if your boobs aren't real at all?
Present them and impress the world.
You'll lose your self-esteem along the way...ohwell!
Good god, you're bursting at the seams now!
Good god, why not take a bow?
Good god, fulfillin' all my dreams now!
You look so great, so strip yourself down! You're just...

Naked! If you want some affection.
Naked! Girl, it can't be wrong
to be Naked! Just show off your perfection!
Whoa-ho-ho, it's great for f*****g, isn't it?

You should know that your clothes won't hide your flaws.
Who cares about your shoulder mole?
Or that the carpet doesn't maaaatch...the drapes? Yeah.
Good god, you're curvier than esses!
Good god, don't be such a tease!
Good god, just rip up all your dresses
and panties, shirts, and cargo capris! And go...

Naked! Your entire complexion
Naked! I can see it all!
You're so naked! Going without protection:
Whoa-ho-ho, it's great for f*****g, isn't it?

Whoa-ho-ho-ho-ho-ho!
(sexy dance break)

Coed Naked Soccer! We. Don't. Use Our Hands!
Coed Naked Skiing! Slalom on the slopes!
Coed Naked Rockers! World's Most Uplifting Bands!
Coed Naked Tro-o-opes...

Who's to know when your looks will fade away
And little bits will start to sag?
Let's get the most out of you while we can! Yeah!
Good god, you're grinding with your hips now!
Good god, your junk in the trunk!
Good god, you're puckering your lips now!
If I may say: you really got spunk! when you're...

Naked! Ready for a beef injection?
Naked! Out-uendo's fun!
Yeah Naked! Can you feel my erection?
Whoa-ho-ho, it's great for f*****g, isn't it?

Naked! That's my own predilection.
Naked! Won't you come along?
And be Naked! It's Au Natural Selection!
Whoa-ho-ho, it's great for f*****g, isn't it?

It's A Wonderful Life, For Kids!

Credit to Sketch for pointing out the existence of this book to me.

Just for the record, it's a real book (Amazon sells it, at least)



From the summary:
"Based on the 1946 movie that has become a holiday favorite, this brand new story is told from the point of view of Tommy Bailey, the youngest son of George and Mary Bailey (who were played by Jimmy Stewart and Donna Reed). We follow Tommy from age four to age eleven as he and the familiar townspeople of Bedford Falls embody all the values of the film. During a time of crisis, an angel-in-training named Arthur shows Tommy how many lives he has touched during his few years on Earth, and that family and friends are what matter most."

Well, I don't care what's in the book for real. I saw the original movie (and the UCB's redub of it); I know what this book is about. I don't have the illustrations, but I can predict the text. With that in mind, sit back and enjoy what is obviously the classic children's story, "It's A Wonderful Life, For Kids!"

WARNING: I'm not going to preface this with a warning more specific than this statement. END WARNING.

---

It's A Wonderful Life,
For Kids!

I was a beautiful baby. At least that's what Mommy says. But she's probably just talking out her butt 'cause she knows that I'm a mix of hers and Daddy's DNA, so if she says I was an ugly baby, she'd have to admit that either she's ugly or she has no taste in men.

This is Mommy and Daddy. My opinion? Enh. Just thinking logically, I was an okay baby but I probably will have a speech impediment before I'm twelve.

Daddy's always been a hero of mine. Ever since I found out he saved his little brother from drowning. Yeah, that was basically the defining moment in his life, and he turned into a town hero. I wanted to be like Daddy so much, but I'm the youngest, so at age seven, I had to push my older sister Zuzu into the river and then jump in to save her.

Daddy pulled us both out before I had a chance though, and he got a medal. All I got was a paddling and no dessert for a week. Zuzu got double dessert for being so brave...and also because she told Daddy that stupid thing about angels getting their wings. She's totally been his favorite ever since then.

God, I hate Zuzu. You know what? I hate everybody in this stupid town. I live my life by the Bible or the Law or Morality or whatever it is we're all supposed to be living by, and nobody gives me credit for it. It's like Daddy's the only guy on God's green earth who matters in the slightest.

When Daddy gets a little tipsy on Saturdays, he sometimes sits me on his lap and tells me the story of how he found out that it's a wonderful life. The story mostly goes into how he's the only thing keeping this town from consuming itself, and that if it weren't for him, his brother'd be dead, some ship of soldiers'd've died in the war, Mommy'd be an old maid, and Miss Violet would be a prostitute. Oh, and an angel told him all of this. Daddy's a little self-important, but that's what happens when you heap praise on a kid; he gets heady.

There is one part of Daddy's stories I can relate to: he says he got this vision when he attempted suicide. Oh, he doesn't call it that; even Daddy's too upright a citizen to tell his son about self-destruction, but I'm smart, and it didn't take too much effort to connect the dots from "thinking out on the bridge...thinking" to "thinking...about jumping."

Well, darn it, it's time I got on with things. I'm not going to sit around for another decade of humdrum Pottersville life when I could just as easily jump off the bridge and get it over with. I don't mean 'think about' jumping off. No, I'm no coward like Daddy. I'll do it outright. Easy.

So here I am, on the bridge. It's cold, it's dark, and I'm probably missing out on our annual celebration of a Christmas miracle called "everybody who should have helped us earlier coming around with aid after Daddy secretly almost killed himself." Funny how those are all positives in my book.

I love winter nights. They make me forget about how the world's supposed to be such a happy place. When it's sunny, the whole town looks like a goshdarn sepia-tone photo. It's pathetic. Sunny days are supposed to be bright and cheerful and full of excitement. In Pottersville, they're full of obligatory casual greetings and standard errands.

I think of it being sunny like I think of being a good person: nobody around here expects anything less. The highest you can get on any deed, day or discussion in this town is a C because every shining example is just the norm. Pathetic.

Well, I'm falling below expectations now. I've got one foot dangling off a bridge over an icy river, and I'm supposed to have straightened my room before gramma comes over. Totally not done. Totally going to get paddled for that. Oh wait, no.

I'm not.

...Ow. What the hell? What did I land on? Ice? Ice?! The river froze?! I'm lying below a bridge on a frozen river?! You've got to be kidding me. I thought it was too quiet when I was up there; I guess it is pretty cold. After all, I've been out here, like, fifteen minutes and I already can't feel my legs. And it's so dark, I can barely see three feet in front of me, so I guess that explains it. Darn it. Gosh-double-shoot-darn it. I totally mucked that up. Now I'm going to have to stand up and go home all dirty and...stand up and...

Um. I can't...I can't move. I can't feel my legs, but I can't feel my arms either. Or anything below my shoulderblades really, except my heart. It's going pretty fast. Pretty darn fast.

Oh God, I'm going to die aren't I? I broke my back jumping off a bridge, and now I'm going to die of exposure because nobody's going to be able to walk out on a frozen river and save me; I can hear it cracking a little just from my hitting it.

Oh God, I want my Daddy.

"Hey, buster, you okay?"

There's a kid standing over me eating an ice cream. That simple fact, on a night when the wind chill puts it at probably close to the negatives, is enough to tell me he's an angel.

"You took a big fall, buster," he says. "Kinda stupid, dontcha think?"

"Yeah," I mumble. I'm suddenly glad I went to the bathroom before I came here or I'd have probably peed myself when my spine snapped. That'd've been too embarrassing.

"Well, buster," he says, "I'm Arthur, angel-in-training, seraphim-in-waiting, card-carrying member of the Anti-Desecration League. I can tell you've already got me pegged as a errandboy for the Lord (blessed be His Presence and His Name) all by yourself though, so let's get down to brass tacks: you just royally screwed up, buster."

He squats over me. "You know how good you had it? Do you? I guess not since you took the plunge without even having the decency to let me get down from heaven and talk to you first. But whatever. I don't get my wings until a bell rings, and no bells are gonna ring until you figure out how wonderful life is. Now let's go."

"If I go with you and learn my lesson, you're gonna take me back in time and show me what it would be like if I'd never been born, and then you'll take me back to before I jumped, and I can go home?" I'm babbling a little from delerium, frostbite and blind hope.

He licks his two-scoop again and looks at me. "Um no," he says. "You already jumped and shattered your Lucifer-damned fifth and sixth vertebrae. You're paralized from the chest down come Hell," --he spits-- "or high water...that last one's more likely, what with all these cracks in the ice."

"So where are we going?" I ask, the whole situation finally sinking in.

"Into your head for a fever dream," he says. "That's all you're gonna get in this state. Think of it as your unlife flashing before your eyes."

I nod and a couple of tears freeze halfway down my cheek as I lie back and wait for the inevitable.

It's sunny out in Pottersville. Only it's actually sunny. And it's bright. And warm.

"So...what?" I say. I'm a disembodied voice now, probably less depressing that way. "Without me, the sun would shine stronger?"

"No," Arthur says, standing in the sun in my line of sight, "the sun's just as bright as it always has been. We're looking at it without your doom-and-gloom filter turned on." He points across the street. Officers Ernie and Bert are saying their hellos to Gramma and they sound happy. "It's not all bland conversation," Arthur says, "some of it's actually pleasant. These people like each other."

The main street blurs and we're in my house. It's Saturday and Daddy's having a drink to relax at the end of a hard day. And another couple. Whoa, we watch him on fast forward, and two hours later, he's wasted. Completely trashed.

"What the heck's he doing, Arthur?" I demand. "Wait, is he drinking himself stupid because he couldn't save me?"

"No," Arthur says, "You're not dead in this vision; the point is you never existed. Your dad's getting soused because he's got nobody to tell his story to."

"What story," I scoff, "his Wonderful Life story with his made-up ange..." I stop.

Arthur looks at where I'd be standing if I were corporeal. "Your dad tells you about what happened to him that night he almost offed himself for a couple really good reasons. The first one's not going on here, since you're dead, and that's the fact that he's been trying to head you off at the pass since you were 6, trying to keep you from making the same mistake he did, trying to kill yourself to escape the world."

"And what's the other reason?" I ask.

"The one you're seeing here?" Arthur says. "Well, the other reason is he feels like he needs to tell it to somebody, and he feels he has to keep up his sappy-sweet lopsided-smile act for the entire rest of the world. You know, you can go to jail for attempted suicide?"

"What?" I say. "But that's stupid!"

"Yeah," he says, "well, I guess they don't want you jumping off a building and killing somebody when you land on them. Whatever, it's mortal law. Not like it matters anyway."

We watch Daddy in silence for a couple more minutes as he quietly tries to kill the brain cells that remember him ever thinking his life anything less than perfect. Then it's time to press on, and he blurs away.

It's Mommy. She's playing a slot machine in a smoky bar while some sketchy man with a cold sore sucks on her neck and fondles her bottom. If I had a stomach right now, I'd be vomiting.

"What. Is this," I manage.

Arthur hops up to sit on the bar next to Mommy. "Your mom was a bookish uppity snoot before your dad met her. But once he'd gotten into her head, she got a little more relaxed and more willing to have fun. A little," --he gestured at the bag of quarters in her lap-- "too much fun maybe. But her kids have always been her focus. Notice how she always seemed to have a kid every few years until after you? It was because she took care of each kid whole-heartedly until she felt they were ready to handle themselves, and then she'd get restless and she'd have another kid with your dad to keep herself steady and responsible. And she stopped after you 'cause you've never reached that point, and she's been stuck on the verge of losing it ever since. Only..." --and now we are fast-forwarding through the rest of Mommy's evening-- "Only here, she never had you, and she fell out of responsibility and into this schmuck's arms."

We watch for a little longer, but I don't learn anything more about myself. More about Mommy, yes. Unfortunately. I think Arthur might be kind of dawdling for personal reasons, what with his whole neutered existence or whatever. Mommy is between the guy's legs when I finally yell, "Arthur! Arthur! Help me, Arthur. Get me back. Get me back. I don't care what happens to me. Get me back to my Mommy and Daddy like they're supposed to be. Help me, Arthur, please. Please! I want to live again! I want to live again. I want to live again. Please, God, let me live again."

And here I am, on my back on the ice in the cold. Thanks a lot, Arthur, I think. I really had been thinking he'd been joking about leaving me with a shattered spine; I mean, angels are supposed to help people, right? Of course, he's just an angel-in-training, so he's still learning, I guess.

My teeth aren't chattering any more; that's got to be a bad sign. There's voices way off in the distance. They're looking for me. Oh, perfect, I think. This is God's gift to me: my friends and family looking over the edge and seeing me in all my failed-suicidal humiliation. The miracle of life and the miracle of lifelong regret over my trying to take my life. I'll wind up in a mental ward until I'm 60, I'll be That Guy Whom You've Got To Be Careful What You Say To Or He'll Kill Himself, I'll be unwanted and unloved for the rest of...

Hold up...what's what's going on? I'm...holy sun-of-a-gun funky shoot, I'm floating! I'm goshdarn levitating off the ice and floating! What the heck? What is going...

I'm now floating upright and upward, my dead weight hanging below me as I go back over the guardrail and stop a couple inches from the snow-covered pavement of the bridge. I hover there, as if standing erect. I wonder how long I'll stay here like this, how long it will take for the search party to get here, and what they'll say when they see me floating against all reason here in the middle of the bridge. How will they explain it? Will I be a miracle returned to them from God? Will I be able to float forever? Am I a superhero now, like Clark KUUUUUNGHF!

The drunk driver hits me going at forty miles an hour, and I break his windshield before richocheting off and nearly going over the side of the bridge again before the levitation snatches me sideways a little and instead I just strike my head on a girder and pass out, with the sound of a harsh, insistent ringing in my ears.

They say they found me an hour later, lying there, cruelly crushed by the idiocy of some guy who lost control for a single moment...oh and also because he was a lifelong lush, constantly out of control. He's in rehab now. Probably with an angel-in-training standing behind him, helping him stave off his personal demons day after day.

As for me, I'm in a wheelchair. Mommy feeds me, changes me, and --I admit it--dotes a little. I'm a little damaged obviously, but no worse than what I'd done to myself. It appears that by some Christmas miracle that only I can appreciate, God kept me from being harmed at all by the car. Everything I've got, I got in the fall. Miraculous.

So yeah, a little damaged, like I said. My faith a little shaken, my world a little twisted...I get through it with my Daddy.

He's the only one who knows. I'd seen it in his eyes when he'd sat over me in the ambulance; Christmas eve, that bridge, the last few years of his hoping it wouldn't happen... he's a banker, he can put two and two together just fine. So now when he sits me on his lap Saturdays, it's not a story time any more, and he's never tipsy.

We talk about what it was like to see the other side, why our family seems to have a history of divine intervention, what it had taken to drive us to suicide, what made us survive in the end, and he hugs me, and I press my chin hard against his shoulder, and I know.

It's a wonderful life.

THE END.

---

The All-New, The All-Different X-Chibi

My friend Sketch issued a challenge. I have answered it.

Original Comic...
and mine:


Original comic...
and mine:


And a third for luck:
Original comic...
and mine:

Carroll To The Legend of Zelda

based on "Jabberwocky" by Lewis Carroll

CARROLL TO THE LEGEND OF ZELDA
`Twas brilliant, with the sly Wizzrobes
And gels and Gheenis in the way:
The mummies were called Gibidos,
Unlike Mumm-Ra, not gray.

"Beware the Octorok, my son!
The stone-like spit, the conelike maw!
Beware the Like-Like blob, and stun
The flowerous Manhandla!"

He took his Master Sword in hand:
Long time his Moblin foes he fought --
To get rupees he, would burn down a tree,
And bomb a wall or pot.

And, as through dungeon spots he stormed,
The Octorok, with eyes too large,
Came marbling through the tektite swarm,
And feldsparred as it charged!

A, B! A, B! You see? You see?
Both Master Sword and boomerang!
He grabbed its bombs, and with no qualms
He ended with a bang.

"And, has thou slain the Octorok?
Repair my door, my bombish bloke!
You're Zelda's tool! Hooray! Hyrule!
Dodongo dislikes smoke."

`Twas brilliant, with the sly Wizzrobes
And gels and Gheenis all the same:
The mummies were called Gibidos,
Unlike HydLide, great game.

Living To Be On Oprah

to the tune of "Living La Vida Loca"
by Ricky Martin

Ricky MartinLivin' La Vida Loca

Living To Be On Oprah
She's into new sensations.
She diets really well.
All through the nineties there were fluctuations,
But these days you can hardly tell.
She makes a ton of money,
sides with psychologists.
She'll mend your heart and she'll call you honey
almost enough to make you slit your wrists.

She is the greatest talk show host;
she always gets results.
She's better than Jerry Springer
'cause she rarely spotlights cults...
and her guests act like adults. Come On!

Her manners are sublime!
we're livin' to be on Oprah!
Her guests are on daytime
TV alongside Oprah.
They've done courageous feats,
and they never gave up hope-rah.
Now, they get discount suites;
They're livin' to be on Oprah, Come on!
Livin' out of a bag for Oprah!
They're livin' to be on Oprah.

Based in the Windy City,
she's always hard at work.
She'll take your hand, and she'll give you pity.
She founded the Oxygen Network.
And she's a huge philanthropist,
and she's a movie star!
Just look under your seats, and then
SHE-BANG, hey, there you are:
everybody gets a car! Come on!

A self-made billionaire;
You know you're not rich like Oprah.
But she'll pay you to care;
the audience wins on Oprah!
No guest may be a grouch;
you better learn to cope-rah.
Tom Cruise just broke her couch.
He's happy to be on Oprah. Come On!
Too happy to be on Oprah, Come on!
Far too happy to be on Oprah.

Well, all she has to do is cough,
and people start to clap.
The secret to The Secret is
that it's a load of crap...
Do I haaaave to draaaaw a map? Come On!

You scoff, but here's the thing:
you're livin' to be on Oprah.
You wish you were Gayle King.
(She probably sleeps with Oprah.)
Her magazine's called 'O'!
And her doctor's Deepak Chopra!
Backwards, her name's Harpo;
That's a Marxist theory 'bout Oprah!
This song is going still!
And now, here's a word from Oprah:
"I made you, Dr. Phil!
You're living because of Oprah.
I broke you, James C. Frey
And this is how small you broke-a!
< copy of "A Million Little Pieces" >
So tune in every day!
You're livin' to be on Oprah, Come On!
Livin' to be on Oprah, Come on!
You're livin' to be on Oprah."

Livin' livin' livin' to be on Oprah!
Livin' livin' livin' to be on Oprah!
Livin' livin' livin' to be!

Your Table's Not Ready

to the tune of "Just What I Needed"
by the Cars:



Your Table's Not Ready
I don't mind you eating here;
That's what a restaurant's for.
But tell me why you couldn't wait
Politely by the door?
This isn't something you decide.
None of our waiters wait that side!
I don't mind you eating here,
But please don't eat right there.

I can't read your mind from here
Here at the hostess stand.
You came in when my back was turned.
This cafe's undermanned, yeah.
It's not that we can't serve you well. No,
It's more you're there, but we can't tell.
I can't read your mind unless
I've shown you to your chair.

Won't you please wait to be seated?
(wait to be seated)
That way I'll know that you're here.
Won't you please wait to be seated?
(wait to be seated)
I can't be any more clear.

I don't mind your right to choose
Exactly where you sit, sit.
The customer is always right,
But here's what I don't get, yeah:
You sat before I saw you. Lord!
Now you complain you've been ignored.
I don't mind your right to choose,
But why not clue me in?

Won't you please wait to be seated?
(wait to be seated)
You ain't got nothing to lose.
Won't you please wait to be seated?
(wait to be seated)
While I go grab you menus?

Won't you please wait to be seated?
(wait to be seated)
You needed somewhere to feed.
Won't you please wait to be seated?
(wait to be seated)
I needed someone to lead.
Yeah, yeah, believe me.

Please wait to be seated!
Please wait to be seated!
Yeah, yeah, yeah.