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The Story That Ends & Begins Again (no word limit)
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Preston, Moderator
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May 07, 2014 09:45PM
Meanwhile back at the mansion the boys could not eat nor drink nor even get dressed because they didn't have the twinkerbelle to ring for the servants. Without the bell the servants didn't know they were needed.
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So they ran around as bare as the day they were born and had a lot of fun while waiting for rescue. After an hour there came a scraping at the window and the lost boys ran over to unfasten it so Peter could hop down, pulling his shadow in behind him. "Now hurry up and get dressed, you lot," he ordered in a big boy's tone of voice. "Wendy is arranging the vacation and there's no time Toulouse Lautrec.""Why you always pickin' on me?" little Lautrec cried.
"Yeah, it's not fair on Lautrec!" baby Proust exclaimed, imitating his brother's voice.
"Wow!" Peter said, "you're not much of an impressionist, are you, Proust?"
So the lost boys went on strike because management was being unfair to Lautrec. They made picket signs and walked around in a circle shouting "Unfair!" They hired one of the nastiest pirates as a union negotiator. They held out for 47 years 3 months and 6 days. Finally the union negotiator got a deal where Lautrec wouldn't be picked on anymore and in return for this all the lost boys would start to age.
But not, of course, Peter Pan because he had a painting of Robin Williams hidden away in his attic and not even Wendy knew that.
That's just Wilde speculation. Suddenly Peter remembered he hadn't checked his lottery ticket. "yes, yes, yes, no. Oh well there's always tomorrow, Just then Owl appeared and said, "Yes, how may I help you?" Peter didn't remember asking for Owl. "I asked for your help?"
Owl sighed and said, "Let us look at the transcript."
Peter beamed I see there's the problem. I said "Oh well…not Owl."
Owl said, "Well as long as I'm here I should tell you that you lkeft Twinkerbelle in the house when you got the recently naked boys out."
"On no! Owl fly up and snatch it."
"Oh well" you say? "Funny joke Pan. And a jolly good oh well to you too" said Owl as he flew away.
"That went well," Peter sighed. "And I always thought oh wells were wise. Just goes to show; never trust an ornithopter."And with that Peter flapped his arms and flew off to the Land of Never Ever, leaving a PostIt behind for Wendy which read: WATCH OUT FOR THE RED INDIANS, THEY MAY HAVE GOT THE LOST BOIZ.
When in fact it was the Blue Indians who had the lost Boiz. After inspecting them in a cursory way (the curses cannot be repeated here for propriety's sake) they pulled the levers and disposed of the Boiz down the chutes. They ended up at Smee's House of Disco & A Little on the Side. "Nope., can't use you. We're full up of Disco cage boys. Wait a minute. I do have an infinite number of openings for A Little on the Side."
A Little on the Side turned out to be waiting tables, which was pretty insulting considering the Lost Boiz had all been educated at private boarding schools In England and were therefore far better equipped to work the cages, at least until Pete the Pan came to rescue them from the Blue Indians and egregious Smee.Peter, however, was a little held up because Capitol Records had offered him a lucrative contract to play the Pan Pipes as backing to Iggy Pop Tart, who was nothing if not something of a Prince at heart.
Iggy the tart of pop was, at heart, in love with Prince. When Peter entered in the wrong door at Capital Records that tart Iggy said, come join us but Prince was like oh no you don't. I'm your my man and you only got one man and that's me baby now get that Mary Martin drag king act outta here before I make you a mezzo-soprano. Meanwhile back at the House on the Side the Lost Boiz were finding out waiting involved receiving money from grateful patrons though they soon figured out the the bigger tips were to be found under the tables. They almost considered changing jobs from waiters to floor cleaners however they all quit work that night thinking they better spend the money before Peter rescued them since there was no place to spend money in Never Wherever Land.
They soon took over Harrods' Toy Kingdom having rejecting Hamley's on the grounds it didn't have any toy over £350 and Harrod's Toy Kingdom had free candy floss and a whole candy store.
Addendum for American English speakers candy floss is cotton candy so you see it was quite messy.
While Peter struggled with the confusions created by losing the Lost Boiz in a bordello on Regent Street, craftily disguised as an internationally famous toy store, and dealing with adoring fans of his latest album on Capitol Records (and elbowing Iggy the Pop Tart outta the way), Wendy had finally got herself to France, but found herself trapped on a French train because the brand new state-of-the-art rolling stock ordered at the price of a king's ransom, didn't fit the platforms of hundreds of stations.*[*http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europ...]
"It is un contrôle de chemin de fer, as we say in belle France," a station master helpfully informed Wendy.
Damn, she thought. I should have flown.
Wendy went inside the store looking for a place to sit. Fortunately this was a Macy's so they had a bargain basement where there were many chairs to test out by sitting and resting. Wendy went into Macy's bargain basement and she found a comfy chair. It was a wing chair and with a good wind had been known to flap its wings and fly. Suddenly Wendy felt the chair flying and heading up the stairs and out the door. The wing chair didn't know where Wendy was going so it flew around in circles.
"Hey, chair! Do you have The Knowledge?""What's that, then," the chair replied. It truly was a bargain. it could talk as well as fly and one might well wonder why it was stuck down in Macy's Bargain Basement.
"Don't you know?" she shouted above the rush of wind as they passed low over Kings Cross-Saint Pancras.
The chair huffed irritably in an attractive Cockney voice (its short temper might reduce its value as a true bargain). "I wouldn't ask if I didn't know what the eff The Knowledge is, would I?"
Wendy sniffed haughtily in spite of Mother telling her often it was not becoming of a young lady to act with airs and graces. "It's the law that every London Hackney cab driver must know every street, lane, and alley of the city, what's called The Knowledge, before receiving a Hackney licence to drive fare-paying passengers. So there, chair."
"Hmmm…" The chair gave this some thought as it neatly executed an Immelmann turn around the Eiffel Tower. "Well, m'Lady, for one, you ain't a fare-paying passenger—not even a very fair one; and for two, we're in Paris if you haven't noticed."
"But, but," Wendy stammered, "wasn't that Kings Cross-Saint Pancras we just flew over a minute ago?"
"I'm a fast flyer," the chair replied drily.
That shut Wendy up. Where's Peter Pants when you need him, she thought.
And became the breeding ground for Déjà vu. Chair was startin to get good vibrations from Wendy and now knew she wan't to do the nasty with Brian Wilson. In a blink of an eye they were on a California surfing safari looking for Brian.
"Down there!" Chair cried out happily and pointed an arm down at the beach. Wendy grabbed the other arm to avoid being hurled to the ground. Brian looked up and sag back at her.Well I'm not braggin' babe so don't put me down
But I've got the fastest set of wheels in town
When something comes up to me he don't even try
Cause if I had a set of wings man I know she could fly.
"Gee, he knows I can fly!" Wendy shouted. "If that twit Peter Pan could see me now!" She leaned over Chair's arm and sang back:
He's ported and relieved and he's stroked and bored.
He'll do a hundred and forty with the top end floored
He's my little deuce coupe
You don't know what I got
(My little deuce coupe)
(You don't know what I got)… Wheeee!"
"I hate to break up une affaire de cœur, but the meter's running, you know. Shall I land?"
"Yes please, oh do land, dear Chair."
"Okay," he said sternly, "but no doing the nasty with Brian. He's got a date aboard the Sloop John B."
"Hey guys" said Brian. "Let me tell you a little about Scientology."Chair took off immediately much to the relief of Wendy. Wendy found herself back in Macy's Bargain Basement and saw the most darling little ankle bracelet she just had to have because it matched her tattoo. While she was leaving the store she got stuck in the revolving glass door with THYP on the opposite side.
Round and round and round they wentUntil both were dizzy and quite spent.
At that moment out of the blue came Peter Pan
Doing his flying thing just to show that he can.
"Love the ankle bracelet my dear spent Wendy,
Seeing you on the floor makes me go all bendy.
It matches your flying dragon tattoo quite fine,
Let me take you into my arms and make you mine."
"Oh Peter, we know each other too well, my dear Lion,
And swept off my feet in this door I'm now with Brian."
Brian helped Wendy to her feet and Peter flew off with Chair.
[The Poet Laureate of all Parallel universes is now Roger]THYP took Wendy in his arms so she would fly away and the flying dragon tattoo bit him.
"Dragon do you not know that I am The Handsome Young Prince?"
Drag snapped back, "I don't care if you are the The Handsome Egg Foo Yong, Wendy is mine. She just pledged herself in marriage to me with an ankle bracelet so take your hands off my wife because small things can get into small places and bite your small privates until you are out of The Handsome Young Anything business."
THYP dropped Wendy who hit the sidewalk/pavement rather hard. Men react like that.
At that moment Peter Pan returned from the comfort of his own armchair, cuddling all the Lost Boiz he'd found in a house of ill repute called the Rising Sun (down New Awlins way, he said), which apparently had been the ruin of many a poor boi.Wendy's draggy Dragon tattoo blew a greeting of fiery breath and said he didn't care about the rest, but he was off for a vacation on Tallahatchie Bridge with Billy-Bob-da-Bilder.
Wendy and THYP took a walk in the enchanted forest. "Isn't this enchanting?" Wendy asked."It's The Whichness of the Whatness" said The Handsome Young Prince.
Wendy screamed "What? There's a witch? Where?"
"No Wendy dear" replied THYP, "It's The Whichness of the Whatness."
"The what of the which where?" Wendy was beginning to tire of THYP.
Unfortunately he responded, "Oh don't you know? It's the whichness of the whatness and whereness of the woo." And oh wow I woo you too!"
http://www.whosdatedwho.com/tpx_14064...
"Wendy stomped off saying this guy is one cell short of the intellect of an ameba." said the narrator.
The Roman aristocat Fredericus Astarius snuck around behind the trees with a snickerness of whichness at the retreating figure of Wendy Whatness because now THYP was all his. "All mine Preshuss!"Poor Handsome Young Prince. He'd have done lots better sticking to the Everwending Story. Ah well…
Meanwhile, Wendy, an arm short of a chair, had to fly herself back to London, and the cosy windowsill, there to wait for the return of Peter and the Boiz from the Bend. A thick pea-souper wetly coated the gray bricks of the surrounding houses and the mournful cry of a lone Sherlock sounded distantly. When invisible Big Ben struck 13, Peter flapped into view.
"Oh Peter it's you!" said Wendy in her stage voice.Peter questioned, "You were expecting Big Bird maybe?"
The boiz all in their nightshirts with sleeping caps on their heads, looks as sweet as treacle all tucked in their beds.
"Have you seen Nanna lately?" Wendy asked in a voice as treacly sweet as the Boiz all tucked up in bed together."I haven't," Peter replied, wondering whether the Boiz, who seemed to be bouncing a lot, had picked up some nasty habits in the House of the Rising Sun down in New Awlins.
At that moment a deep growly Woooof shook the house to its very foundations and a great Great Saint Bernard exploded into the bedroom and flattened Peter under massive paws. Nanna, who was always concerned that the children should be properly fed, jammed several ginger nuts down Peter's throat and followed them with a sold swig of brandy from the barrel around her furry throat.
"Nanna," Wendy said in a disapproving voice, "you know I don't approve of you giving Peter strong drink. You know what he's like when he gets a bit drunk, goes flapping off crazily all over the place, then down to the harbor to importune innocent sailor lads with all his silly stories of happy seamen."
Woooof! Nanna agreed, looking suitably contrite.
"Burble…" was all Peter said as he rolled onto his back and waved his arms and legs in the air so Nanna could rub his belly..
Nanna got the boiz some Purina dog chow to eatr. All the boiz objected saying they wanted something sweet.Nanna said, "Are you going to eat the dog chow or do you want me to remove those bed clothes and show Peter what your doing underneath?"
Every boy ate his dog chow which was very nutritious if you were a dog. They ate it right down to the very last chow. As soon stomach aches went away they went back wiggling and giggling in the beds like they learned at the House of the Rising Sun.
Nanna had a lot of extra laundry to do the next day what with all the bedsheets, pillow cases and goodness the boiz seemed mess up all over. She just was thankful they didn't get diarrhea from the dog chow.
That evening, they all settled on the rug in front of the telly and on cam a commercial for Purina Dog Chow (You Know It Makes Sense…) and as one the Boiz threw up.Wendy was furious with Nanna and banished her to the kennel in the yard three floors below.
Poor Nanna.
Good thing Nanna knew Nana from the Alexa Land book in the Firsts and Forever. 80 year-old mafiosi grandmother Nana was disgusted with the way Nanna had been exiled so she called on her very persuasive grandchildren to fix it.In minutes Nanna was back in front of the telly in a feather bed with goose down. Servants were feeding her chocolate milk bone treats and bowls of chocolate milk. Nana put her gun back in her purse and said goodbye to Nanna telling her to stop by for some beers and shoot some pool.
Nanna, however, had nothing against pools—in fact some of her best friends had been pools—so she didn't like the idea of shooting any, at least, not for fun. Beers on the other hand…Peter Pan was playing in the Wendy House, making peek-a-boo faces through the tiny windows at the Lost Boiz all curled up like kittens in a bed. Wendy was understandably a bit peeved at Peter's antics and told him in no uncertain terms to "GROW UP!"
Peter spread apologetic arms and said, "But Wendy, you know I can't ever grow up."
'No, you're just a big kid, but that's how we love you."Over in the bed holding all the Boiz, most a little Lost under duvet, John in his nighttime top hat stirred and muttered something about a greasy pole.
"He's very Xenophobic," Peter said. "Are Poles actually greasy?"
"No, no," Wendy exclaimed. "He's dreaming about Daddy and the local elections. The newspapers say he's not doing well in the polls."
"Ah," Peter said.
"So you say newspapers say he is not doing well in the polls? Which newspapers are saying that?""Why the British newspapers of course." Wendy sounded annoyed at the question.
Peter followed up with "What about the East European newspapers?"
Now Wendy looked like she thought Peter was losing it. "No the East European newspapers are not saying it."
Peter: "That's it then. Your father should use the East European polls."
Wendy: But…
Peter: Why if they are so satisfied with him that they aren't saying anything at all, he must be the hottest ticket in East European politics.
Wendy: But...
"But what Wendy?"
"But we live in England."
"How often does your father bother to show up in the House of Commons?"
"Daddy isn't terribly good at that."
"So if he doesn't have to go what difference does it make where he doesn't have to go?"
"It doesn't work that way Peter you have to live or at least have a summer home in your district."
"So move to East Europe."
Wendy gasps
"Your father is so popular there that he soon be head of all East Europea."
"Of what?" She was sure he was crazy.
"East Europea"
"Peter there is no such thing as East Europea."
"Then why is he doing so well in the East European newspapers?"
Wendy went to get Nanna.
Quite often in politically ideological discussions the argument can become circular, and this, dear perspicacious reader, you will have noticed is what happened in this passage recounting a conversation between pert Peter Pan and demure Wendy Darling. What the two were discounting over Daddy Darling's chances in the East Europea elections was the impending disaster Darling Senior was about to face. Little did he know that in the next chapter the very newspapers whose poles showed him to be greasy were about to break the astonishing news that Wendy Darling's dear darling Daddy was…… A cereal killer!
[cue dramatic organ sound]Could it be true? Could Wendy's father have been the one who ate Tinkerbelle's friends Snap, Crackle and Pop?
Peter and the boys armed themselves with sabers a swords and sailed the ship they stole from Captain Hook but it was not really stealing because the alligator had eaten him anyway so… finders keepers. Off they went sailing into the dangerous waters of the unpredictable sea to find Captain Crunch because surely he would know if it could be true.
"Ahoy Cap'n Crunch!" Wendy cried. "Oh look Peter, it's his brother, Cap'n Crunch's Oops! Choco Donuts Quaker Oats (2003–2004).""Actually, I'm Choco Crunch (Original) Quaker Oats of the 1980s," the gruff cap'n said, and added, "And it were a crocodile ate Hook, not an alley-gater."
"Oh, sorry," Peter said, downcast. "But we're really worried about Mr. Darling who is no longer the darling of the populace because he slaughtered Snap, Crackle, and Pop… so it is alleged. Please tell us it isn't so, and then we can reinstate him and make him top the polls."
"I'm sorry, my kleine fliegender, but if he's off topping Poles, he'll be better off behind bars with that wicked Baron von Redbury (1972). Now there was a real nasty cereal killer. Drove General Mills half way to the loony bin, he did."
"Well, it's been real nice chatting with you, Wendy said politely. And with that she and Peter bid Cap'n Crunch Choco Crunch (Original) Quaker Oats a fond farewell, and their joint Cheerios (Apple Cinnamon) rang out over the ocean waves.
Headlines all over the Falkland Islands carried the news that would vindicate Wendy's father. The Falkland Gazette reported: "Darling Allergic To Rice
Darling cannot be the Rice Krispies Killer since 500 of his personal allergists have stated in an online petition that Darling's allergy to rice would have caused his own death if he ate Snap, Crack and Pop."
Back in England funeral services were held for Baron Von Redbury who was found dead Saint Swithin's Day last at the feet of his arch enemy Sir Grapefellow* who held a smoking gun. Authorities have reminded the public of the danger of smoking.
Fortunately for Darling The Daily Mail Online picked up the story and because of their high journalistic standards and public reputation as a news organization it was believed by British voters.
*https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sir_Gra...
Smoking guns is always hazardous to health, the public health warning went. If you suspect your child has taken up smoking guns behind the tricycle sheds at school, report the child immediately to the sherif. Omar Sherif is usually to be found playing bridge in a casino somewhere, and he will be able to advise you and your child as to the evident dangers to the child's health of smoking guns. it may be appropriate to start your child on a course of anti-gun smoking gum (though be advised to avoid Singapore, where chewing any form of gum, even anti-gun smoking gum is a criminal offense).On the other hand, Omar may well suggest the speedier solution of simply turning the gun on the child and putting paid to its misery once and for all.
This has been a public health warning.
ATTENTION ALL SINGAPOOR BOYS! You can now have our anti-gun smoking program without the gum. That's right no gummy gum. We have THE PATCH now come on in to our all in one clinic to serve you with our miracle inoculation against smoking all weapons plus because we care antibodies to prevent you from catching all known STDs. Just come into our parlor. We can serve you. Later you can serve us so we can spread the good news and get our treats um, treat you all.
Singa, one of the poorest of Singapoor boys, gave up smoking his gun and pooh-poohed gum and patches as not being manly and then he went down to his local STD — Singapoor Tardis Department and demanded his human right to be transported somewhere nice… like Madagascar, because he'd seen the movies. Rick Russell, who was CEO of the STD, was nice but firm and explained that Singa, being as poor as he was, didn't have the bus fare. "But here," he said kindly, holding out something, "have a piece of chewing gum instead.""But, but I thought it was illegal?" Singa said.
"Not in this Singapoor, Singa. Just open the Tardis door and look out."
Which Singa did and gasped. All about, people were chewing gum and smoking guns like there was no tomorrow (which for some smokers, there wasn't).
But it wasn't Madagascar.
It was the Republic of Madagascar formerly the Malagasy Republic which was very well known for its fine music on thumb pianos. But the people had forgotten how to play the thumb piano because there hands were always busy with smoking guns and gum.Singa looked down at his feet. They were as dusty as the dirt road. There. See it? In the dusty dirty road there was a thumb piano barely visible for it had grown rusty and the wood was dry.
Singa picked up the thumb piano and said, "Teach me."
You cannot play a thumb piano that is not cared for, is not love. First you must clean off the rust and shine the metal then you must oil the wood and bring back it's tone so you can then learn to play.
Rick Russell, CEO of STD was also the great, great grandson of the greatest thumb piano player ever known, the great master Thumbelinos which means little thumbs. Thumbelinos was very small and his thumbs were even smaller but when he played his music filled the skies and for a ways and then a ways more and still a longer ways it was heard throughout the land to all those who had an ear to hear the thumb piano.
Rick Russell knew the notes and how to hold the piano and where to use your thumbs but he was not a magic maestro like his great, great grandfather Thumbelinos. He was like a man who knew how all the pieces on a chess board moved and new the rules but was not a chess player because he lacked the ability to play.
"Rick Russell, yes, yes that's right STD." He spoke into his cell phone which was an Apple 5S. "Yes STD like in sexually transmitted diseases." He started tapping his foot impatiently. "Okay then. I will meet you there."
Singa asked, "You get reception here?" Rick Russell replied, "Yes when I want to get reception I get it and when it is not convenient for me to answer the phone I do not get reception."
Singa was amazed. "4G?" Rick Russell smiled kindly and said, "Yes little one it gets 4G reception."
"Wow."
If Singa had asked Rick Russell to teach him to play, Singa with his little thumbs would play wonderful music. But he would never be like Thumbelino and be heard by all who had ears for the thumb piano because he lacked the magic. The magic only comes with STD. And STD only comes from the male progeny of Thumbelinios. Rick had it. He was CEO of STD. But Singa never asked anything about the thumb piano after he heard that a 4G signal could be received here in the former Malagasy Republic, now the Republic of Madagascar.
That is the way it was until one day...
…a particularly obnoxious Zebra Crossing (not the one the Beatles used in Abbey Road, and which in any case has been moved, so all those stupid tourists standing on it to be photographed are yards away from where John, Paul, George, and Ringo strode, but another one nearby) got off the boat from the mainland and challenged Rick Russell, CEO of the STD, for the boss-ship of Madagascar.Since all the Malagasians were fed up of the comings and goings of the Tardis from Singapoor, they booted Rick out and set up a new republic ruled by the Zebra Crossing. There was a weeny bit of friction when the Central Park escapees disembark from a mail boat: Alex the Lion, Melman the Giraffe, Gloria the Hippo, and, Marty the Zebra…
Ah…
Zebra.
The civil war lasted a few days and left half the jungle island in flames until that kindly old African gentleman from Uganda, Idi Amin arrived to take charge. After which, all was happiness and light until…
Piotr Pan and Vendi Darlink arrived.
Sure they played it cool at first but the furor was never far from their minds. The furor could not be ignored. Lies were spread. Riots were incited. The furor gave incendiary speeches. Pan said it was the lost boys that were the problem. Vendi spread the word we must finally have a solution for these lowlife children. Little boys were no good. Everybody knew that.
Piotr suggested placing them all in a concentration camp, so they could concentrate on their revising for the annual exams, but Vendi pointed out he'd be forever known as Piotr Pen. Then he had a brainwave brought on no doubt by the furor."We'll send them to the Moon!"
"And how will we achieve that? We can both fly, I know, but not that far."
"By an eagle."
"An eagle?"
"Vendi, stop repeating everything I say. Eagles can get there, I know because I saw this film on TV, and it was on the Moon, and they said 'The Eagle has landed'! So it must be possible."
"Golly gee, Piotr. You're so clever," Vendi gushed.
"Veni Vendi Vendo. Learn their lessons I say." "You are so irresistible when you are mad darling" sang Piotr, "Mad, mad mad!"
"Come to my bed chamber now Veni"
Pietr yelled, "Okay lost bois he is gone. No come on out. Follow the first star to the right and then keep on flying!"
Back in her kennel in North London, Nanna was wondering whatever happened to her homosexual gay-lost boiz. Knowing how they were so easily led astray (remember the incident with the House of the Rising Sun? Nanna rests her case) by Peter and Wendy (currently disguised as Russian emigrés for some reason), she could easily believe they'd all flown off to another
We are Russian Secret Police. We are here looking for Mary Martin in drag calling herself Piotr. The Furor doesn't like drag kings because he is the only King even our great Russian singer Elvich what live in Graceland knows this. Where is she?Nana politely and rightly replied, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow way up high."
Nyet. We wait here.
"Pardon me but is this the Evewending Story Five Word Version?" said the old man in the baseball cap.
Nana politely and rightly replied, "No Tom you are mixed up again. Are you taking those pills Peter gave you?"
"Pills? I thought they were beans. I traded them for this magic cow in
the cornstalk. Now where is the Five Word Version?"
Nana politely and rightly replied, "Take the first star on your right and keep on flying."
[Tom's ashes are in the highboy near sideboard now. He forgot he could not fly.]
Nana politely and rightly replied, "First door on your left and keep on fly… er, well, just first door on he left Peter."
"Just a minute there Miss Martin, we are KGB officers and we are here for you."
"Yes?" Peter responded not so politely.
"Would you sign this album cover for us of the Original Cast Recording of Petrovich Pan?"
"Certainly, too bad it wasn't a musical that might have been worth something by now. Just wait 'til I get my rainbow ink pen and I will be glad to sign it for you."
"Oh that you so much Miss Martin! Such beautiful handwriting. Just like a woman's."
"Okay off you go now secret agents, just out the window first star on the leftist and keep on flying."
The KGB officers missed the turning and ended up landing on a nice looking tropical beach somewhere deep in the South Pacific. They recognized it from Juanita Hall singing Bali Hai. Just then an athletic young woman came jogging along the beach in a two-piece. KGB#1 said to KGB#2, "There she is! Mary Martin!""I am not," the woman snapped. "I am Nellie Forbush."
"No she's Mary Martin in disguise," Juanita said to the Russian secret agents. "And she's married with one child, a boy she named Larry Faghagman."
"There's nothing like a dame, KGB#1 said to KGB#2. "No, nothing like the frame of a dame."
"You'd do well in the on-line-poem game," said KGB#2 admiringly. "You must come with us, Mary Martin Nellie Forbush." He beckoned imperiously.
Maria pulled herself to her considerable full height. "I shall not," she snapped back with asperity. "It might be a Trapp!"
The Hills were alive with the sound of music. It was a rap song and the hills were getting down and busting their moves to the grooves. Prancing around like a horse on his hooves. It was scary. Giant mounds of earth shaking their booty.
Mountains high and rivers low, all shaking their booty to confuse the naughty Nazis. "How come," Wendy Darling asked Peter Pan, "an Austrian nunnery's mother superior turned into Tina Turner?""Good question," Peter answered, only it wasn't really an answer, was it? More of an invasion. He was always invading Wendy's more difficult metaphysical questions, like how does a wartime nun become a flaming black singer with a terrible temper? And what do they have in common with Christopher Plummer? And why did anyone ever think the Duke of Wellington could actually hold a tune in a gazebo?
"Hmmm, a very good question," Peter said again.
Okay that's a wrap everybody good work see you at 7:00 am tomorrow.Mary Martin took off the Peter costume and pulled out a flask and drank half the whiskey it contained. She was upset with script, she wasn't fond of her wardrobe and they were shooting scenes out of order so it was difficult to know what was going on. She wasn't upset with the director though. He was hot.
He was George Cukor, a noted woman's director. That's what they always said, but he also had a thing for men, so Mary Martin was on a hiding to nowhere. George was Her cardboard Lover and he would throw her love back in A Woman's Face. In fact he led A Double Life by Gaslight, and even though he wasn't Born Yesterday, he also wasn't The Marrying Kind. Mary Martin's co-star walked up (she was insanely jealous) and said, "You think A Star is Born, but if It Should Happen to You I'm outta here, Gone With the Wind, and I won't be stopping off at Bhowani Junction neither.She went, too, and George Cukor said to a sobbing Mary, "Something's Got to Give, darling, so Let's Make Love like Wild is the Wind and I'll make you My Favorite Wife, and everyone will see that you are My Fair Lady."
"But you love your new car more than anyone, George."
"It's true that I am in love with The Blue Bird, especially after going on Travels with My Aunt last year. We traveled through country where The Corn is Green and made Love Among the Ruins—"
"With your Aunt?!"
"Well, he wasn't quite my aunt, really, but make believe is my world, and my dear, it has made me Rich and Famous."
Wendy and Peter, sitting a corner of the sound stage with the Lost Boiz, just shook their heads. "Movie people," Wendy said dismissively. "Think they live in Disneyland."
Wendy asked "Did you get all that?' No need to, it is all on the Internet Movie Database imdb.com in much greater detail thought Peter but instead he just said, "Script changes. No wonder Mary Martin became a drag king and played me on broadway."
Mary went on to star in South Pacific where it was warmer. Peter and Wendy went back to Never-well-hardly-ever-Land where marriage was reserved for boys only but they managed to obtain a Civil Union which had all the benefits of marriage except it sounded like a second-rate marriage so the heterophobic homo kids put up with it.
Oh gosh… well…Once Upon a Time there was a little frog who lived in a pond, and he was a very happy little frog, unless you think his delusion of one day turning into a handsome prince might be a drawback. Anyway, the pond had been ignored for many years and was hung around with lilies and bull rushes and reeds, and was home to many insects which the little frog enjoyed eating. (There was something of a problem with the local convener of the Insects Union, but that's another story.)
And then one day, on a fine summer's morning, it all went to hell in a wheelbarrow. One minute verdant peace and seclusion, the next the throaty roar of two-stroke engines and massive feet appeared. Next moment all was collapsing greenery. The owner of the garden had decided to have it all tidied up.
What was the little frog to do?
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Books mentioned in this topic
Lassie Come-Home (other topics)A Life Apart (other topics)
Wrath of Seth (other topics)
Wife to Mr. Milton (other topics)
The White Goddess: A Historical Grammar of Poetic Myth (other topics)
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Authors mentioned in this topic
Zack (other topics)Roger Kean (other topics)
Oliver Frey (other topics)
James George Frazer (other topics)
Italo Calvino (other topics)
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