Thursday, January 10, 2008

Labour Saving Devices

Thank you, Machine! May I have another?


I've heard of people wanting to be Spanked, but not always Lifted. Also note the Blindfold and (apparent) Electricity and (apparent) Distress. Good Gravy. What will we ask for next? To be Understood? To be Hiccoughed? Is there an Understanding and Hiccoughing Machine out there? Yesterday, in the unoccupied Fourth Floor Men's Room at the Institution where I work, an Automated Toilet flushed, and flushed, and flushed. What ghostly arse was haunting that toilet? What ghostly turd was that toilet flushing again and again, like Sissy-fuss? For eternity. Or, at least, for Wednesday. Maybe it's just the Advance Guard Toilet for Today's Busy Professional: "Always Ready for Your Ass." I bet there are some pregnant women out there who'd want a true Labour Saving Device, huh? Maybe even Tony Blair needs a Labour Saving Device. Fo' shizzle, but we should have a Labour Saving Device Day, shouldn't we? And by that, no, I do not mean that people would reatreat to their bedrooms with Marital Aids in hand. To the contrary, Ladies and Gents.

I have made the acquaintance of one LaShakespeare Jefferson, a Baltimore entrepreneur who Labours all over town, but some days at Penn Station, where he will relieve you of a dollar or two, so you don't have to struggle with the extra weight of those bills all the way home. LaShakespeare dreams of going to Coney Island, to get some Papaya King. And I tell you what. If Shakespeare lived today, he may very well have written King Papaya instead of Lear. It would be a story about a man having to divide up his Hot Dog & Juice Empire among his daughters, and in the process, find True Love. In the end, all the characters don't die, exactly, but grow complacent, due to all the Labour Saving Devices they own. It would be, Thus, a uniquely American tragedy, that would also involve Pizza Hut, Cable News, and dyspepsia. "It burns," King Papaya would say, after eating an Oreo Pizza on the couch during election returns. "How now, Nuncle?" would say the Fool. "Dost thou have Heartburn or Acid Reflux Disease?" There ensues a pause. The pause is everything.

4 comments:

The Goose said...

I believe someone put a "Whoopee" cushion (TM) on that there Machine...

Dan / Daniel Gutstein said...

It's a fine line between Whoopee and WhoopAss, you'd grant me that, I think. Good to hear from you, The Goose. As I said before, I hear noise of other The Geese in the news. Gossage, etc. Hope yr well. --B.A.

Dana said...

Sigh. This is what I get for leaning way back whilst trying to read stuff on my computer. I thought you said:

"'It burns,' King Papaya would say, after eating an Oreo Pizza on the couch during erection returns."

I thought, "Wow, that would be a really *different* topping to add to one's pizza. Erk."

Dan / Daniel Gutstein said...

Gary Hart said to Donna Rice:

I told you to *lick* my erection.

NOT *wreck* my election.

But that's an old one, sorry.

I spoze you could start a deliver chain called Erection Hut. Oy.

Huzzah!

----Blood A.