Saturday, July 4, 2009

The Gorilla & the Gazelle: July 4, 2009

(I continue where I left off last time: Molotav entering my suite on July 2, 2009)

“What do you think of when you hear the word, mutilate?” Molotav asked me calmly and quietly, as he casually sliced the palm of his hand with a gleaming knife, drawing a wee-thin line of blood (Way too dramatic, don’t you think?)

I said, “Mmmm, makes me think of raw liver, or maybe spaghetti. Yeah, spaghetti, or no, wait, pigs-in-a-blanket. Yeah, that’s it. Now you’ve made me hungry, Numb-nuts, I think you should get out of my way so I can forage for sustenance and legal pain killers,” I attempted to shoo him from blocking the doorway. Didn’t work. He continued to look at me with the way–over-done dark intensity thing, and made no reply which I found unforgivably annoying. It inspired me to adjust my vocal chords to accommodate a voice much akin to ‘monotone alien’ and I began to chant, “Hungry (short pause), hungry (short pause), hungry (short pause), hungry…” while staring at him like a zombie.

He yelled sharply, “Enough!”, raising his arms in the theatrical manner that I call ‘swanning’, due to the fact that it is a standard defense maneuver of swans that are getting ready to beat you senseless with wings that span six freakin’ feet! (How cool is that?!) So, obviously, this guy’s intention is to be very threatening, you know, like it’s all the bonehead can do to keep from thumping all 100 pounds of me into next week. I need to be fully aware that he’s just this side of out of control so I better not push him by God, or I’ll be really sorry. Yadda, yadda, yadda, ooh baby, ooh baby…(yawn)(fart)

I tenaciously persisted, “Hungry (pause), hungry (pause), hungry (pause), hungry…”

“You will stop that this instance!”

I sought to immediately correct his faux pas, “Instant, not instance. Instant. I-N-S-T-A-N-T. Instant. Meaning immediately, or without delay. Like, NOW, Toad-boy!” I stuck out my tongue and crossed my eyes. Well, that pissed him pretty good because his face turned magenta and smoke barreled out of his ass…oops, I mean his ears (I’m lying. Neither orifice did anything unusual or mind boggling in any fashion whatsoever. Isn’t it great that I still possess my sense of humor despite the perilous situation I find myself in?)

“Silence!” he yelled in a decidedly louder voice than before, perhaps hoping the bellowing volume would cause me to cease and desist from my obnoxious behavior- Yeah, right, sorry, but you’ll have to kill me first...

“Hungry (pause), hungry (pause), hungry (pause), hungry…”

The next portion of our heated social exchange went something like this:

Molotav: I shall cut out your tongue!

Me: Oh give me a break, Butt-breath! Either start chopping me up or chop me some veggies or something! You really suck at this! If you’re going to threaten people you need to be able to follow through! Don’t you know anything?

Molotav: You are itty bitty evil woman! I want to hurt you very badly!

Me: Oh, you do not, Mouse-terd. You like me.” (I smiled engagingly while batting my luxurious yo-lashes. I noted a slight hesitation pass behind his chocolaty peeps, which was an automatic 2 points for me and my womanly attributes as far as I was concerned – The fact that he had the looks and charm of a gorilla are irrelevant to the test results, as any righteous woman is fully aware).

Molotav: Your Mojo be messed up greatly. You are clazy!

(I generously chose to ignore his latest mispronunciation…)

Me: I don’t have Mojo, I’m a white gal. I have Jomo. I have Yo-Jomo! Tons of it! Gallons of it! Piles of it! I’m friggin’ amazing, Monkey-shit!

Molotav: You will stop calling me the names!

Me: No, I won’t.

Molotav: Yes, you will!

Me: NO! I! WON’T!

At this inevitable impasse Molotav sighed and his body sagged like a flaccid…balloon. It was beautifully perfect to behold. Without hesitation I rocket launched myself at him, screamed, ‘Hi yah!’ in my best oriental warrior imitation, and kicked the knife squarely out of his hand. I then clamped down on the disturbingly large anatomical protuberance jutting from his butt-ugly mug (e.g. his nose) with my impeccable, Colgate-white teeth. (Note: This aggressive and enthusiastic action had the ability to produce upwards of 170 pounds of pressure per square inch to his sensitive flesh and delicate cartilage!)

He screamed like a girl.

Convinced that I had briefly incapacitated him, I dislodged my fangs from where they had embedded themselves into his snout, and fled like a young gazelle. My gazelle image was but momentary, as I was forced to spit several times due to the salty brine absorbed by my tongue from his schweaty schnoz. While earnestly attending to the cleansing of my much offended taste buddies, I ran headlong into a glass partition. Time seemed to stand still for a foggy, though somewhat pleasurable in a weird kind of way moment or two, and then I collapsed into a dizzy heap on the floor (I’ve seen that in movies but never believed it could happen to me!). Needless to say, that is where Diddle-ass caught up with me, and unceremoniously drug me back to my suite. Rest assured he did not remain unscathed for his manhandling. I have the broken nails to prove it.

…more tomorrow (I hope). Let’s all try to stay positive…OK?
Happy 4th to you all! Embrace your freedom!


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