You Know What The Kids Love These Days?

Period westerns about cowboys participating in long-distance Arabian horse races.

Fact.


Well, it's either that or those damned juvenile delinquent horses are tagging everything in sight again!

Sheesh! Ponies today!

Shameful, really.

You know their mares foaled them better than that.



Till next we meet ...

Tonight on NBC: Nap? Or Crime Scene?

INT. SUBURBAN HOUSE - DAY

A hive of activity. Flashing lights, police tape, forensic techs, photographers. Radios CRACKLE.

A young, fresh-faced BEAT COP (twenties) runs down the details for a sardonic, world-weary GRIZZLED DETECTIVE (too old for this shit).

BEAT COP

Neighbor called it in. Heard a sound.

GRIZZLED DETECTIVE

What kinda sound?

BEAT COP

Like wood.

GRIZZLED DETECTIVE

Wood?

BEAT COP

Logs. Gettin' sawed.

GRIZZLED DETECTIVE

All night?

BEAT COP

All night.

GRIZZLED DETECTIVE bends down to have a closer look.

GRIZZLED DETECTIVE

Signs of a struggle.

BEAT COP

But only right here. Otherwise the place is clean. Upstairs she even made her bed.

GRIZZLED DETECTIVE

But she's never gonna lie in it.

SFX: GAVEL SOUND: DUN-DUN!!

CUT TO:

OPENING CREDIT SEQUENCE ...



Till next we meet ...

Oh, How I Miss The Salad Days Of Last Week!

(sigh)

Remember just a couple days ago when I thought it was high-larious that I received a royalty check for the comically paltry sum of $3.88?

Yeah.

Those were the days, huh? I sure do miss last week. Yessiree.

Sure was funny though, right?

You bet!

(sigh)

Then I discovered this morning that it was only because I deposited that comically paltry check that I was rescued from complete and utter financial ruin.

My current net worth.

Now I can't even afford a barrel and suspenders to wear.

(sniff)

Incidentally, the asterisks lead to a footnote that goes on to explain in excruciating detail how I'm quite dumb.

And poorly dressed.


Also fat.


Had it coming, I suppose.


Till next we meet ...

Did I Mention That I'm A Published Author?

Ah, yes! The glitz! The glamor!

The books, they fly from the shelves!

Life is a non-stop party when you're published. Yes, yes! My, my!

Especially when you get one of these babies in the mail once a year!

EVERY year!

HOOO-BOY! We are eatin' at the Ritz to-NITE!

By which, of course, I mean the Dollar Menu.


Okay. The dumpster.

(sigh)


Till next we meet ...

OH NO!

Cirque du Solei's top scientists have been fiendishly busy in their gene-splicing laboratories! Fearlessly ... arrogantly meddling in God's domain!

And now they've pulled back the curtain to unleash their latest abomination onto the world!


It's their most terrifying, genderless, apple-cheeked, ladyman EVER!


And as though that wasn't pants-wettingly terrifying enough ... this year's model feels EXTRA Europe-y!

Hide your wines! Hide your cheeses!

Whatever you do! Don't let it devour your sense of childhood whimsy!

It fears fire and little else!

RUN! RUUUUUUUUNNN!!



Till next we meet ...

Ride The Snake!

Sure, he's old and his skin is cold ...


But his rates to the lake, the ancient lake, are really quite reasonable!



(Uh ... that's a Doors reference.)

(Related: I'm quite old.)


Till next we meet ...

Why Do You Toy With My Emotions!?

Just tell me what you want from me, Traffic Signal!

Do I stay or do I go?

I don't understand why you play these head games!


Unless ...

... hang on a minute ...

You're trying to kill me, aren't you!



Till next we meet ...