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Fog rolled in just as the cars shot out of the garage, barely clearing the hedges and nearly flying off of the earth.
"Live from a New York, it's Open-Lined Fridaaaaaaaaaaay!" said Jonathan, introducing the rushed show. But nobody cheered; instead, they just sat there, hearing the mosquitoes. Occasionally you could hear a slap, but it was actually more of a whir.
Rush said, "Thanks, dude." He rustled his papers around, going overboard with it. You could hear him get lost and buried alive. "AAAAAAAA!!! Help!! HEL- oh, ok. There we go. We actually have President Bush on the line, folks. Let's see what he has to-"
"Hello, Rush!"
"Uh, hello, Prezzle." Long pause. "If you interrupt me again, I'll-"
"What's going on there, radio boy? I'm here with the family, and we just wanted to tell you that when you go on vacation, you should play reruns of your show with all kinds of pause funnies through it!"
"Pause funnies?"
"YEAH!!!" The phone speaker microphone went out for a few seconds because President Bush had hollered, plus because he had opened a root beer at the same time and had it amplified by 10,000 times. After the speaker came back up, he said "You know, play the show, but make it to where people say nonsense things- even you!"
"Me?"
"You."
"Me?"
"You."
"Me?"
"You. And you can even add things from movies, like random lines, or something. It would be great!"
Rush moved something over on the desk. "Well, someone flied." he muttered.
"Yep, who did? And it-" Then the speaker mic went out for good because he had said the word "stinks" with an extreme lisp; so extreme that the 's' sounds in the word were unintelligible whistles. Does that mean he screamed?
"Thank you very much for the call, sir. That- uh, that's just, uh, amazing. You flied."
Back in 1912, the Titanic suddenly launched. The guy was aboard as a passenger. He hadn't had to pay full price for his ticket, though, since he said nope. "Titanix." he said as the captain said no. He had bludgeoned the front of the ship so it always tried to veer to the left. "Mash." he said as the captain demanded to know what was wrong with the ship. But he didn't even know what he said. "Oshkaboggle."
With his tools in the back and his motor revved up to 12,000 rpm, he sat in the garage and blew up the engine. His buddy who was with him said "Dude, that's stupid." Apparently, he didn't do things like that. But he did like to throw things! "Well," he said loudly. "I'll just throw my Coke in the truck!" He threw it as hard as he could into the floorboard area right from the open window. Now, don't miss that detail- 'open window'. It spewed, then just laid there on the floorboard making typical 'sploiching' noises as it spilled. "Spillage has, uh, now occurred." he said. The others concurred, and it was horrible! Just HORRIBLE!! Man!
While shopping, he thought it was pretty nice as his Pepsi was spilling in his cart. He smiled down at it as it made its stupid little spilling sounds, and he even began to imitate them. People looked at him...but he looked back at them JUST LIKE THEM!
He planned to rent out the river house to tourists, but he had a clause in the agreement that said they have to run off. Originally, he was going to just lie in there, but a situation existed to where there was a setback in the midst of the floor up there. He was a dead body. You could live in there and shriek.
He floated down the Frio River on his inner tube, hurried into a frenzy over other people with a piece of glass from the window of the tube rental place. People tried to gripe, but just dropped out of sight without delay (or insolently, whichever you like better- maybe even factually)...see, it was one of those instances when you wish you could just leave and never return, you know? I mean, seriously, man, don't you hate that?
Successfully wild, he ordered a burger at the checkout, destroying various things on the counter behind someone's back. But then the manager discerned! He ran out of his office, but he had already run off down the sidewalk, and now he possessed the need to be punished for that.
"Well, eventually it'll go away." said the hiking guide to the group. There was a bear blocking the path ahead of them, but it wasn't quite discernible to the group, since it wasn't a very good bear. They looked at the guide. The guide looked back, alarmed and not a bit surprised. They looked at the guide extravagantly. The guide looked- but wait; now the bear had gone, and it was with a trestlecrush, or some other kind of method used commonly by the guide.
Now everyone was aggravated because the guide looked like the bear. "Oh, come on!" said the first tourist ever. Impatient, he and the others walked on ahead, not caring about the huge block of bears coming down the hillside onto them.
The music began, but it was a little bit sped up because Snerdly was messing with the equipment. Rush looked at him through the soundproof glass impatiently. "What are you up to in there, Buster?" he said as he went on the air. Buster ducked out of sight as Rush blew the glass out with a shotgun.
"Live, from New York, it's Open-Line Friday!" played the usual recording. But the clapping sounded hollow and cheap, like when heard coming from a horse. It was also sped way, way up.
"Welcome to the Rush Limbaugh program, folks. And yes, this day is where you, the listener, get to choose the topic which we discuss, and this is the all-knowing, all-encompassing, all-awash, all-colorful, all-shutting up Rush Limbaugh program, coming at you with a tow truck. Rick, welcome to th' program, you little opal deal."
"Thanks, Rush, and mega-dittos from here in the street."
"Thank yo--"
"Dittos, Rush."
"Thanks, Rickle. Watch it."
"Well, Rush, I watched the news here this morning and Clinton was shown hiking and fishing instead of dealing with the current Saddam rubbish, and I was wondering if someone tootled."
"Well, sir, you saw wrong, dude. And you better watch it, 'cuz one day you're gonna git a bullet in yer back. As for the hiking nonsense, it's true. As a matter of fact, Hussein was seen off in the trees to the left of Clint ducking out of sight whenever the camera zoomed toward him."
"Really? Huh?? Well??? HELLO?"
Long silence. Finally Rush comes back on. "Excuse me, Rick, but I had a natural pie here somewhere, and I seem to have misplaced it. Hold on a sec."
Rick and the whole listening audience could hear someone saying, "It's natural." like a commercial, with birds singing in the background. Then Rush appeared.
"Sorry, Rick. Couldn't find it. I was gonna throw it on you, but....oh, well. I have a premium cigar here. Hold on while I light it." He lights it, and you could hear him puffing. Suddenly, it blew up with Hawaiian Punch mix. After a few minutes of silence, he came back on. "Sorry, folks, but Buster seems to have a problem with his cheeseburger. He spattered it in his drink. Rick, thanks for the call, and now we have Wes from Jefferson, Texas. Wes, welcome to the EIB Netwo--" But a king ran through there. "Sorry, Wes, a king ran through there. Go ahead, hoss."
"Ahoy. Rush, I have a comment. You said last week that the administration faddled. What does that mean?"
"Alright, now, see, folks, there you go again taking my words and messin' with them. It was 'muddied', not 'faddled'. I said that the Senate was rolling around in the mud with those caribou. They said, 'Carcass', and stuff like that. It had nothing to do with getting a whipping. Now if you people--peeple--are going to do this, I will not put up with it." And he got up, but didn't go off the air. You could hear him in the background just talking and building a desk.
He spread the plans for the new, cutting-edge business plaza on the table. They all looked, but didn't understand because the blueprints called for the building to hang over the edge of the world.
Once the bottles of carbonated water were in the basket, he proceeded to say things about them that were violent and obtuse. His voice was so high nobody could hear him. He looked around, viewing the other customers not viewing him and yelling in a pitch too low for human ears.
Upon getting to the entrance, they discovered that their vehicle wasn't going to fit through the gate because they had modified it to where it had a Mt. Vesuvius front end. One of the guys made a way, though...he with the corned beef sandwich and numerous unknown brands of pens. Man, he had pens nobody had ever heard of! Can you dig it? He drove on in there with the audacity of a steer that got in the kitchen and thought all the dessert cooling on the windowsill was for him, when it was really for me.
Checking into the motel, he received his key card and said "Flier." The motel desk attendant had been planning on saying "I'm sorry, what was that?" for years, but ever since he had sprayed the whole can of deodorizer in there within 2 minutes from behind the counter, she couldn't. He went to his room, noticing his kin in it. He slid his card in the lock, but did it too fast and perfectly. It didn't work, but that didn't matter, because he had already pressed the door open with his heel, and stuff.
"Ok, wash the bottom of it, now." said the automated teller. It wasn't supposed to say that. It was supposed to assist you in doing your bank transaction, but someone in obscurity had reprogrammed it to say things that had nothing to do with that...unless, of course, you- well, you'll understand later.
Wanting to go to lunch at Luby's, he arrived horribly and got in line...but it was the Sunday lunch crowd! He had a popper thingy, and used it in there to his advantage. "Yes, sir, what would you like?" said the half-food attendant. He pointed to what he wanted, sliding his tray along the rail real fast and pinching the peoples' fingers ahead of him between the trays, knocking them away from the rail and into the teeming mass of people in line behind them. He was able to change the food.
"At www.breadfeet.com, you can see how to coax a coyote into the garage for a chuckle." said the lender as the couple were signing the papers for its new house. As they were signing, there was someone (no, we don't know who, and don't really care) at the new house kicking a soccer ball around in there like there wasn't gonna be a tomorrow. They had been at it for a couple of weeks, which is a really long time, especially if you count the times they stuck needles in the carpet. He had also splatted a Cup O' Noodles in the coat closet, or maybe in the oven.
In the Parade of Homes, he slammed doors and make it look like the builder host of the model home did it, even though he was in another part of the house entirely...or emptily...or maybe quite empirically. Or maybe not. It's up to you; you are a judge.
He death-metaled in the middle of the meeting with the President, watching for the time when the guards would run in to get him out. As soon as he saw the President begin to call for the guards, he threw a million pies at everyone. Yes, one million; no more, no less, ok? Ok, good.
"No." said Clinton, lying about it. Death metal, you understand, was forbidden in the Oval Office. It was called that because one of the men at the meeting was oval, as well as opal. He was opal, too. Another guard clopped in (since he was a Faun), drawing his gun at every move. His gun cracked like a stupid piece of peanut brittle.
"This is a special edition of the rushed Limbaugh program. America: the way it ought to seethe. And now, from our studios in here, here is Rush Limbaugh, fatty."
"Thank you, Johnny Donovan, and thank you, sir. Next, we have Steve in Austin, Texasasas. Uh, Texasasasasasasasas. Steve, you're on the EIB Network. Netwerk. The net that works. Knetwark."
"Thanks, Rusche, and mega-neat-o's, from the capitol of it. I have a QUEStion!"
"Hmmm, hmm,hmmmm--oh, excuse me, sir. What was that?"
"Rush, the latest news on this 96-hour campaign which Doal is doing is-"
"Hey, don't throw things, dude! Get him out of here. I'm sorry, Steve, what was your comment?"
"I'd like to know how Dole plans to sleep during this 96 hour campaign-"
"Sleep? Well, he'll just catch a few winks in between stops, I suppose. Why do you dare ask?"
"Well, I just-"
"Listen, buffalo, just because Dole has a campaign doesn't mean you get to have some of it."
"Uh, no, sir, that's not what I mean-"
"Thanks, Steve, for the call. We now have Julie in Lake Worksheet, Iowa. Julie, welcome to the show. Show. You're welcome to talk now. Hello? HEY!"
"Hey! Mega-smash dittos from Iowa."
"Sorry, folks, that's all the time we've got. You shutcher teeth."
He shopped around for a new truck, visiting a Chevrolet dealership first. His other truck had been a Ford, but he had run it off the mile-high cliff in South America at top speed, throwing an apple pie out the window at an eagle right before he went over the edge. Now he told this all to the salesman, who remembered it. He had been at the bottom of the cliff on vacation at the time, milling around. He remembered the truck landing in the pool at the foot of the falls, the engine revved up as fast as it would go. He wasn't quite sure then, and still isn't now, but it seems like he heard the engine blow up a split second before it hit the pool. He remembered thinking it was the stupidest sound he had ever heard, and he was mad because HE wanted to hit the pool; ever since he had faintly heard it laugh at his nerdy Bermuda shorts. It was even stupider than the time he had gone on a sea cruise and the swimming pool had sucked down into the ocean, sounding like a bunch of wolves getting a box of sharks let loose at them out in the forest while backed up against a cliff. Now THAT'S stupid. S-T-U-P-I-D.
Fish flowed around in the 14,000-ft-deep water of the Pacific, beginning to look kind of dumb. Whole schools of them ran over each other, resembling different levels of hasps.
He mashed his old sandwich at lunch, mushing it into the shape of his feet.
He escaped from the Space Shuttle and floated to Jupiter, where he did away with the vapors.
His bath stank because he had burned up an old lasagna under the water.
Building the house, he designed the stairway so that it missed the landing and wound up coming out on the side of the house behind it, instead. Problems with it?
His pants were always ripped because he got them caught on passing cars all the time.
He whittled a statue of someone running out of a closet at top speed.
His shirt always got caught in the machine, pulling it in and nearly getting him, but he always got even by folding it over onto itself.
Tourists walked in and out of the pudding while he just sat back and controlled it all.
His nonsense whims ruled everyone in the class, and- get this- he even slapped the teacher with his car dipstick.
The lion tried to attack him, but he just sat there kicking the lion back into play.
He scraped horribly toward the grocery store, kind of yelling and burning a newspaper.
He approached the intercom switch at the store and said "Sit there and act like an anvil." in it. Nothing happened; not even a hiccup from over in the corner. He said it again, but this time with a twist! "Sit there and act like Anvil."
Presently, he saw the store manager sprint out of his office and begin hoofing it over there, hollering something about anvils and weights and kicking a burro, but he pressed the angry, scolding manager back with a 50-foot post.
He tied clear fishing line to all the hanging lights in the classroom and suddenly made them all start swinging violently during the test.
"This is ridiculous." exclaimed the guy. "You can't even sail here." The wind had been channeled into a pipe to blow on the birds as they sat on the rocks.
He sped on the interstate while the policeman behind him stopped because he thought the guy pulled over. Then he caught him again, but the guy opened his window and casually tossed a bowl of salad out the window at the p'lice. "Caesar, dude." he said, looking in his rearview mirror at the salad chef. He pulled over, already showing his license and registration. "This is the police-" started Cop, but stopped when he opened his car door.
"Titanic." he said, sprinting up the ramp to overpower the guard who had seen him while he was still many miles away and therefore had had plenty of time to prepare. He got within 5 feet of the guard, then tried to dodge around him. "Nope." said the guard, ready for anything, even for the clot of frozen motor oil. "Ticketless, eh??" he sneered, much stronger than even the ship. "You shut up, Titanic." the guy said, trying to push the guard. The guard didn't wanna. "No ticket, no getting on." he proved.
He arrived at the courthouse to report for jury duty. "Duty." he screeched, not waiting for the security guard to scan him for weapons. "Sir, you have to wait--" the guard said, tackling him. But he said, "Shut up, gourd." and didn't get tackled. He made the guard scan the earth with it. The guard resisted while he got away and went up to the fourth floor where selection would take place. He walked in and announced that he would take place instead. The bailiff ordered him to sit down. He ordered a pizza. When the judge came in, the bailiff said, "All rise." He got up with everyone else, and did the "rise, fall" sounds from Helloween. The bailiff turned around to see who did it, but he was sitting way in the back, so he was hidden; plus, he had made most of the people in his immediate area look just like the bailiff. Later, when the judge called those who had excuses up to talk to him about getting excused, the guy's excuse was that he had to remove the judge's cloak and desk on the day of the trial, so he couldn't serve. The judge said nope. He said, "Well, you can GET OUT of my class." He was arrested by the judge. He had confused them all. The county clerk thought he was the judge. During it all, he just walked out, not waiting and not obeying the bailiff, who sold some chili.
Hearing a loud knock at the door, he thought it was probably the furniture guys with their new living room set. Opening the door, the guys were there, and the stuff was theirs. Actually, the guy living there knocked on the door at the same time the furniture guys did. They all contributed to opening the door. The couch was the first to go. Into the lake of tar it went, looking like a giant log.
The guys had knotted up the hydraulic hoses on the crane. "What happened?" the foreman screamed. He stomped around the jobsite, yelling about stupidity and nonconformance. All the workers backed away like a herd of elephants. "Well, sir, we tried to jump it over the construction shack, but it didn't work because it's not made to do stunts," said the crew dude. The foreman ran around, glancing at his watch with immediate impatience. The company supervisor would be there in ten minutes, and he didn't have time for nonsense. "You idiots!" he screeched. "The supervisor will--" But he fell into the ditch, ripping his pants leg and exposing his tattoo of the crane being jumped over the shack. Suddenly Mr. Supervise was just there. He took one look at the foreman's tattoo and understood it all. "AHA!!" he said, loud enough for the surrounding neighborhoods to hear. "I see you people have not only been standing around on company time, but you have also burned up my car!" With that, he turned and pointed back to his car, which was just a smoldering little piece of litter. Nobody knew about it, and they all advanced on him like a flock of geese. Or maybe like a bunch of moles.
