Harvey Keitel Spews
Anson Williams from
Nipples
by A Candy-Colored Clown They Call the Sandman
I awoke this morning hanging upside-down, suspended precariously from my ankles by a mass of stretching tendons attached to the severed legs of a completely naked, howling, Harvey Keitel, whose hands were bolted to my ceiling. I managed to wriggle one leg free, whereupon I swung myself upward just in time to see a geyser of grayish, molasses-like sludge burst forth from both of his nipples, nearly drowning me in the process. I fell backward with enough force to rip my ankle free from the entangling cartilage, and I hit the floor with a thud. The cement-like spewage continued to rain down and form a large, lumpy puddle just beside my bed. Suddenly, the mass molded itself upward, began to colorize, and gelled into a sweater-clad Anson Williams from 'Happy Days'. Thin, bony claws then erupted from both of his ears, and began to tear his eyes out.
"I am not a Potsy, I am a free man!" he declared.
He then leapt out of my bedroom window screaming something about syndication rights and Velveeta Cheese. Soon after, the bolts fastening Mr. Keitel to the ceiling gave way, and he crashed to the floor. This awakened my cat, Pancreas, who padded inquisitively into the room, holding forceps and medical scissors in her mouth. I went downstairs to fix breakfast while Pancreas attemted to re-circumcise Keitel. Judging from the screams, it was not successful.
As I poured the Frosted Flakes into a bowl, I was disappointed to notice that the cereal was actually composed of knee scabs from all of the participants of the 1966 Boston Marathon who fell to the ground. I turned on the radio to the local all-news station which boasted "Traffic and weather together every 15 seconds."
"Today, a 30 percent chance of Spaghettios with sliced franks. Downpours may be heavy at times. Be sure to wear plenty of polyurethane. Tonight, dark, with intermittent periods of complete oxygen deprivation. Tomorrow, high levels of ultra-violet radiation, with a 40 percent chance of planet-wide mass extinction."
After breakfast, I strolled outside and saw Tony Bennett lying in my driveway, clad in flannel grunge apparel, exercising with a Thighmaster, while Suzanne Somers towered above him with a riding crop, shouting the lyrics from 'Ace of Spades' by Motorhead. As I fished in my pocket for my car keys, I felt a sharp sting of pain, and quickly pulled my hand out to discover a miniature Julie Andrews with her teeth clamped firmly on my index finger. I shook her off, and she went flying to the ground, whereupon Ms. Somers scooped up her up and popped her into her mouth. When she tried to belch thirty seconds later, a fast-forward version of the entire 'Sound of Music' soundtrack erupted from her throat.
When I attempted to start my car a few minutes later, I heard a high- pitched screaming coming from under the hood. I got out of the car and began to check the engine and noticed Joey Bishop's head lodged in the fan belt. When I struggled to dislodge it, he began frothing at the mouth and barking at me. I left the hood up, went back into the car, and attempted to start it again. I ignored the screaming, and when the engine finally turned over, I got out to close the hood and found a note taped to the windshield fluid reservoir.
"Went out for cigarettes. Unable to resurrect career after brief stint as Johnny Carson's guest host. Will return in 1998 to pitch cherry- flavored laxatives on television."
As I drove off, I saw John Travolta's testicles hanging from my rear- view mirror. I pulled into the MacDonald's drive-thru, and ordered the new McBladder, which basically consisted of bovine intestinal matter wrapped in a cinnamon-sprinkled puff-pastry shell. When I eased up to the window, I was startled to see Harvey Keitel sitting behind the register in a wheelchair. He smiled at me menacingly, opened his mouth, and a 7-foot reptilian green tongue uncoiled, and quickly wrapped around my neck. Before losing consciousness, I heard him say, "Live long and prosper. And don't drink Ovaltine when Jupiter aligns with Mars."
[Writers] [Birdhouse]