Insanity Becomes You
The Never Ending Quest - Episode 89128
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All of this non-newsworthy monotony had given Josh Burbank time to think.
“So I was thinking,” Josh said to Scott one fine glorious day. “Were you?” said Scott through a mouthful of half-chewed Staircase Room cheddar-flavored food supply. “That’s something, isn’t it?” Josh, for the most part, ignored the latent sarcasm and instead nestled next to his roommate/mortal enemy on the long teal sofa instead. “Actually, yes it is,” he pressed on, unabated by Scott’s antics. “And I don’t appreciate the sarcasm, either. Oh, and welcome back to the land of the living. We threw you quite a funeral. What is death like, anyway?”“Like life except better. Anyway, don’t get me wrong,” said Scott. “I’m genuinely impressed. I’m sure there was a hint of sarcasm in there, of course. I am, after all, an asshole to the nth degree. But I really am impressed. You were thinking. That’s something. That’s really, actually something. I’m impressed. Please, do go on.” “You’re still being a sarcastic asshole, aren’t you? You didn’t mean any of that.”“Hmmm? Oh, were you talking?” Josh then yanked the greasy remote from Scott’s even greasier hands and turned off the TV in one fell though graceful swoop, like a falcon honing in on it’s prey from high above. The silence was palpable. “You can catch up on your One Tree Hill marathon later,” said Josh, his words all the more blasphemous in the wake of the TV’s sudden and unceremonious offing.Scott looked to Josh with an expression of pure horror incised upon his now utterly bloodless, ashen face. “What.....have ....you.... done....” was all he could say. “You’ll be okay. Deep breaths. There are plenty of other shows on basic cable that feature beautiful people with horrible acting abilities. You’ll get over it. Aaaanyway, as I was saying, I was thinking. What was I thinking, you’re thinking. Well, I’ll tell you what I was thinking! I was thinking; why not have a party? Your funeral sort of got the cogs going in my mind, when I saw the better-than-expected turnout. I mean a real, respectable party: with invitations, and caterers, and o'dourves, and a mariachi band, and karaoke, and martinis, and unprotected sex in the wine cellar.... and....pin the tail on the donkey. You know, a real party like actual people have. You know, that aren’t like....us. Look, I’ve already made invitations!”Scott, who by now seemed to have recovered from the initial shock of the TV’s untimely demise, looked over the invitations skeptically. “Well...they do seem somewhat.... professional. But why in the shape of a swan? And what does ‘Goobak ark melork’ mean?” Josh seemed just as confused. “Uhhh....I think it’s klingon or something. I was hoping you knew.”Scott shrugged. “I mean, I do speak klingon. But that’s not klingon. I don’t know what that is. Why would you inscribe that in gold lettering on the front of all the invitations? It doesn’t make any sense.” “I’m not sure,” Josh confessed. “It just seemed appropriate. Well, too late now. I’ve already paid for them, and there’s like 20,000 of them in all. That’s real gold inscribing.”“So you pretty much invited everyone, huh?” “Except for One Stan....”“Ahhhh. And on the subject of ‘payment’, how do you plan on paying for all this?” “Why, simple!” exclaimed Josh, producing a platinum Tower credit card from....somewhere.....near his underwear region. (He was dressed only in his tighty-whities at the moment. Well... tighty-browny-yellowies). “I’ve already hired the mariachi band, I’ve got the caterers en route - they’re a mix of dirt cheap Haitian refugees and out of work Zebroid warriors from dimension 7a.”Scott nodded his approval. “Keeping it current. I like it.” “The biggest cost was transportation, but I struck a deal with some Colombian coke-smugglers and Maclandirian inter-dimensional Flurg-floggers. Minimized the cost. Oh, I also got a great deal on a bulk order purchase of some coke and like five kilos of uncut Flurg.”“I heard the two shouldn’t be mixed,” Scott pointed out. “Right. We’ll start the party with the coke and end it with the Flurg. Should minimize the deadly side-effects and transmutations.” “Perfect.”“Then of course there’s the ice sculptures. Seven of them, to be precise. One of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, one of me, one of you, one of Furry Sara, one of President Jimmy Carter, and the other two are of random members of the New Kids on the Block. Not sure which ones exactly. Oh, make that eight. There’s one of Bobby Brown, too. He’s still cool, right?” “Umm...ya, sure,” lied Scott. “He’s always.... been cool.”“Awesome!” squealed Josh (girlishly, of course). “Now all that’s left to do is get the pin the tail on the donkey set and send out the invitations!” “Don’t forget the booze,” Scott added. “I’ll tell you what. You’ve done enough work. I’ll take care of the invitations and the booze, you take care of the pin the tail on the donkey. Deal?”“DEAL!” Josh beamed. Oh dear. Why does this seem like it’s going to end in utter failure? Stay tuned!!
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3/1/2010 6:44:53 AM
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