Ferret Gnaws Hole
Into Mary Tyler Moore's Forehead

by A Candy-Colored Clown They Call the Sandman

This morning, while I was shaving bits of medium rare prime rib that had begun to sprout on my chin, I noticed in the mirror, standing behind me, Telly Savalas wearing Elton John's hairpiece. He started singing 'Goodbye Yellow Brick Road' in his Kojak "Who loves ya, baby" voice. I ran out of the bathroom and almost tripped over Mary Tyler Moore, who was on her knees looking pleadingly into the eyes of a furry brown ferret she was holding at arms length.

"Ohhhhhh, Robbbbbbb!!!!!," she wailed incessantly. I was backing away from her, when all of a sudden the ferret lunged out of her arms and began gnawing a hole into her forehead. Telly Savalas lurched out of the bathroom asking repeatedly, in a monotone drone, "What's the frequency, Kenneth?"

I ran downstairs and noticed the postman at my mailbox. I opened the door and caught him stuffing a miniature Tipper Gore into the slot. The postman sheepishly grinned at me, and then all of his teeth fell out his mouth and clattered to the ground simultaneously. I went to retrieve my mail and saw Mrs. Gore attempting to open a letter. When she saw me, she clamped her teeth down onto my index finger. I let out a yell, and shook her off, flinging her to the ground. As she lay dying, I crouched over her, and heard her singing Frank Zappa's 'Don't Eat That Yellow Snow' in a tinny, high-pitched whine. After she expired, I went inside and noticed on my Citibank Visa bill a charge for $13,788 from a company called "Deluxe Involuntary Animal Colostomy Systems". I would have to investigate this.

While trying to calm down with a cup of coffee in the kitchen, I noticed that the pinkie and the thumb on my right hand had been reversed. I decided that I had better pay a visit to my doctor, and as I entered my car, I saw Jackie Gleason in the passenger seat wearing a pink thong bikini and smoking a cigar. I decided to pretend he wasn't there, but this became increasingly more difficult as he repeatedly shouted "Well, excuuuuussseee meeee!!" in Steve Martin's voice. I told him to shut up or we would get into an accident, but he persisted. At the next stop light, I reached over his massive undulating chest, opened the door, and not without much difficulty, pushed him out onto the street. In my rear view mirror, I caught a final glimpse of a flustered Mr. Gleason running in place and furiously rubbing his hands on his head like Curly from The Three Stooges. I breathed a sigh of relief and then crashed into a K- Mart.

After skidding past the checkout lines through the automotive department, the car came to a grinding halt in women's lingerie. I noticed Donny Osmond, wearing a white, studded denim jumpsuit sprawled out on my hood. As I staggered out of my car, Mr. Osmond leapt to the ground, glared at me, and pulled his head off of his neck. He then placed his right thumb into his mouth, and his middle finger and ring finger into his eye sockets, and bowled his head down the aisle toward housewares. He then ripped the head off of a blond, short-haired female mannequin, attached it to his neck, and ran toward the front of the store flailing his arms.

"Attention shoppers. For the next 15 minutes, in the toy department, we will be selling Mickey Rourke dolls for 30% off," the public address system blared. I left my car smoking in the aisle and strolled over to the toys where a large crowd was assembling. An excited 5 year-old boy grabbed a box and was running toward his mother when I stopped him and said that I was going to have to go to his house and kill his dog if he didn't give me the box. The child surrendered the box crying hysterically and ran to his mother. I snuck into the next aisle and looked over the package, which contained an 8-inch Mickey Rourke action figure wearing a greasy trenchcoat, a cigarette dangling from his mouth, and a 3 day-old beard. Suddenly, the figure punched through the cellophane, jumped onto my shoulder, and lit his cigarette.

"Do you know the meaning of life," he asked my cryptically, in his burnt-out drawl.

"No," I stammered.

"It is the creme-filled center of a Hostess Twinkie," he replied, with his toothy grin.

Before I could fling him off my shoulder, I was tackled from behind by the mother of the boy whom I frightened. I collapsed to the floor and Mr. Rourke scampered away cackling. I lifted my head up just in time to see Marlon Brando, clad in a red and yellow flowered sundress cocking his beefy arm back to punch me in the face.

When I regained consciousness, I focused my eyes just enough to see Jack Lord from Hawaii Five-O saying to his partner, who had the body of a gorilla and the head of Barbra Streisand, "Book 'em Dano!"

9/13/97


Birdlink Birdlink
[Writers] [Birdhouse]