Tuesday, March 11, 2014

KING LEAR JET LI.




Though I haven’t witnessed a crime, I’d still like to enter the witness protection program: (*) I could start a new life (*) With a mountain view (*) Attend fish fries with little remorse (*) See the Times delivered to my door (*) AND, I could get one of those robes, those witness protection robes. If fewer witnesses decide to topple kingpins, then maybe the Feds could keep a Witness Protection Wait List. At the very least, they should vend some Wit-Pro gear down at the J. Edgar Hoover. I gotta get me one of them Under Armour robes—with the terrycloth and the belt and the cargo pocket—that really separates and defines me.

[2]

In my witness protection dream, the Feds spirit me off in a King Lear Jet. The trip has a mountain view. The landing has a mountain view. We taxi to the gate where we park beside an enormous aircraft, a Jumbo Jet Li. The martial arts actor, himself, appears on the tail, gazing upon a mountain view with enviable wushu modesty. He, too, has entered the witness protection game, spiriting-off his share of the Protected-to-be. In my first morning of protection, I slip on (at last!) one of them robes, open the front door, and stoop for the Times. The headline declares a merger between King Lear Jet and Jumbo Jet Li—King Lear Jet Li. “O Cruel World,” I howl, while startling awake, “O Cruel World!”

[3]

I witness a shoplifting and approach the store detective with details. I’d seen two kids pocket some Peppermint Patties but I throw in some Hot Wheels and some Belinda Carlisle ringtones—for greater effect. “Do you think I could get protection?” I ask. “What?” says the store detective. “Relocation,” I offer, trying to explain. “Sure,” he says, tossing me out the automatic doors, which part just at the right moment. “Relocation,” he emphasizes, as the double doors clap together in a single beat of applause, he on the inside, I on the outs. But I’m not letting that deter me. No, I plan on witnessing some very important crimes, yes I do. I plan on demonstrating, eh!, that ‘witness protection’ ain’t just a condom on a testifier!


For more see: Under Armoire

12 comments:

tpw said...

The Witless Protection Program is good too.

M. C. Zito said...

Belinda Carlisle ringtones: Kill me.

Heather Fuller said...

I b'lieve those same kidz lifted some Silly String (concealed in Under Armour utility pocket) & are now huffin by the dumpstiz out behind the Rose Gin Five & Dime. Relocate me.

M. C. Zito said...

She ain't bluffin'.

DAN / DANIEL GUTSTEIN said...

twp,

I'd settle for the Twitless Protection Plan. Ah, a world without Twits. Or, rather, a program without Twits. I suppose that, despite all the technology and assets that could be focused upon the Twit Situation -- there will always be Twits. But I digress.

------------------BA

DAN / DANIEL GUTSTEIN said...

Emcee Zito,

Slain by Belinda Carlisle again, eh? You are frequently slain by her. Not that I blame you. "Belinda" in general is a difficult name to overcome. Say "Belinda" and one is slain. Polonius must've thought the same thing when he shrieked about his own slaying. Had he lived a second longer, surely he would've said "How now, Belinda?"

--------------BA

DAN / DANIEL GUTSTEIN said...

Hthr Fllr,

I think them kidz is spraying each other with silly string and then huffing it. Then they ketch the Huffing Post -- to keep up with developments in huffing. "Relocate me" is a classic American demand, dating back to Dorothy, et cetera. To think, she coulda said, "There's no place like witness protection", but instead chose Kansas. Humph.

------------------BA

M. C. Zito said...

Or: "Zounds! Belinda'd again!"

Heather Fuller said...

Heaven Is A Place on Earth & that place apparently is Witness Protection.

DAN / DANIEL GUTSTEIN said...

LL Cool J Edgar Hoover.


--------------------------BA

M. C. Zito said...

Dam. Damn.

DAN / DANIEL GUTSTEIN said...

Jean Claude van Damn.

--ba