It's crunch time at the White House. With just three weeks left until the mid-terms, Jambi has walked out, refusing to lay the groundwork for a preemptive strike on Iran.
|Hey, I'm sick of working for you slave drivers. Go ahead and do your worst to me - I'm gonna grab a hat and go have myself a lost weekend.|
|Now what the hell are we supposed to do for an October surprise? Don't tell me we're stuck with rummaging through Nancy Pelosi's underwear drawer.|
|...and speaking of crunch time, Peewee and Reese have only 24 hours left to prepare the president for Kim Jong-il's big wish. But never fear - help is on the way.|
|Hiya Peewee. Hi Reese. Hi George. Hey, I'm here to help you out with your little magic trick.|
|You would do that for me? All I've got to say is let's see some action.|
|Sure thing, George, I'll just hide over here behind this urn until you're ready to do the Genie thing.|
well and good, except the president learned it was not time yet to get his
body back. It seems as though both he and Jambi have special parts to play
in the Third Great Awakening. And now...
Tonight's Episode: Small
Hey, pal. What can I get for you?
|Howdy, Joe. Make it one scotch, one bourbon, and one beer.|
|A Thorogood special, coming right up. You know what, pal... you look kind of familiar to me. Do I know you from somewhere?|
|I doubt it. I haven't been out and about in a coon's age.|
|Well, whatever. Drink up.... Say, can I get a little something for your friends?|
Look out, Jesus, here comes Jong.
|Aye aye, Peewee. Let me go hide behind the urn. Now remember, George, you proceed straight ahead like you're serious with the wish granting, but when you say the magic words, I'll make it so.|
|What magic words?|
|Oh, me, 'Your wish is granted'. Now concentrate.|
|Ah, so, the waiting is now over. It is the moment for you to grant me wish.|
|Alright, Jong. Now freshen my memory... Just what was it that you were wishing for again?|
|Are you a madman? I have tord you a mirrion times arready. We're out here in the midder of a basketbarr court, for Christ's sake!|
|Aptly put, Mister Jong. But what the president is trying to express is that you need to put your request in the form of a wish.|
|Oh. Begging your pardon. I am not famiriar with proper Genie protocor. Prease, now, I wish to have the Rakers.|
|Okay, now repeat after me: Mekka Lekka Hi, Mekka Heiny Ho. Mekka Lekka Hi, Mekka Chonny Ho...|
|Mekka Rekka Hi, Mekka Heiny Ho. Mekka Rekka Hi, Mekka Chonny Ho|
|That's your cue...|
|Your wish is granted.|
Hey Joe, how about another of those thur... thoroughly good specials.
|Here you go, pal. Say, since you're staying a while tonight, how bout telling me your name.|
|My name? Hell, Joe, it's getting so I hardly know any more. Why don't you just call me Jambi.|
|Jambi, huh? Kind of an odd name for a guy that's from - let me guess... Texas?|
|Pretty good guess, partner, but I hail from the wild wild east, down Indonesia ways. Say, you got any Beer Nuts?|
|We're a full service operation, pal. Indonesia... Boy, that's a long ways from here. You sure don't look Indonesian.|
|Well, what the fuck do you know, Fatso? Just give me the damn Beer Nuts and shut up.|
|You talk to me that way once more and I'm going to throw you out on your ass.|
|You think? Boys!|
|Just kidding, pal, just kidding. How about another round on the house?|
What is this? Short whities! You're not the Rakers!
|Begging your pardon, but we most assuredly are. Let me introduce to you, live and in person, the fabulous Cincinnati Rakers, the number one midget basketball team in all of Ohio|
|Not my fault! Not my fault!|
|Bah. I said the Rakers, not the Rakers.|
|I distinctly heard 'the Rakers'.|
Aw, Blondie, you're about as cute as a box of buttons.
|Stay away from me, you vile pig.|
Vire pig? To speak of Kim Jong in such a manner is to express a desire to die. Prepare to meet your maker.
|Hi guys, me again. Hello Jong. Howdy Rakers.|
|What an unpreasant surprise! Begone, farse Messiah, there is no God but me.|
|You know, Jong, you really don't have much in the way of fashion sense for a holy man.|
|Shut up, Peewee. Perhaps you have never seen Mister Jerry Farwerr. Arr of you sharr now perish, even the short whities who dare carr themserves Rakers.|
|Oh, Jong, you are such a wicked man, and yet so unbelievably dumb. The Rakers certainly don't deserve to die, they're the best midget basketball team in Ohio. As for Peewee and Reese, they're good people and need to be spared. Now, the blue guy on the other hand... Well, forget about it, he's pretty much indestructible.|
|ARRRRRRRRGGHHH!!! You mean vengeance sharr not be mine?|
|Maybe you'd be interested in a little wager, a game of one on one with the captain of the Rakers. He wins, and everybody gets to go home harm free. You win, and I'll help you extract vengeance on the Blue Guy.|
|My God, why hast thou forsaken me?|
|Come on, pretty boy, let me kick your ass in a game of roundball.|
|You're on, midget. Ritter do you know that Jong is a word crass atherete. I once shot a 38 on a par 72 course. I once rode a bicycer so fast that...|
|Stop talking and start chalking. Let's go, big guy.|
|60 minutes later|
You sure you want another, pal? I'm only asking because you just puked in your hat...
|What good isha hat if ya got no plashe to hang it? Ya know I usta have a beaudiful home. Didn't look like mush from thu outside... but it wuz beyond time and spache so it wus preddy damn fine...|
|Sorry to hear about it, pal. Say, boys, do you mind locking up for me? I've got to get going before the missus calls me into missing persons.|
|Not a problem.|
mish that house... It was uh good ole house... I sure do mish it...
(a tip of the hat to Mr. Underpants)
©2006, Mark Hoback