Can’t hit a home run if you’re not in the game

So I’m at our fisherman-themed local bar, the Bass-to-Bass with Anonymous Doug, and I’m disappointed that the jukebox doesn’t have any Feather Healer, especially their pinnacle album “Twenty-sided Die: The Roll of Destiny.”  So I decide to get drink until every song sounds like them.  Instead I get drink until I start spouting poorly-thought out random ideas that pop into my head for who knows what reason. Like… 

“I think if I were a woman I’d be a slut,” I say.   For the past few hours we’ve been drinking pitcher after pitcher of Dingo Stout.  It got this name because the alcohol content is so high that if a pregnant woman were to be within five feet of it being poured, they would no longer be pregnant.  And then someone will yell “The Dingo took your baby!” and we’d all laugh and laugh.

“Hell, you’re a slut now,” Anonymous Doug says to me.

“Really?”  I say. “I thought guys can’t be sluts because of the double standards set up by society, thanks to Lance Patriarchy?”

“For the sake of this discussion, let’s assume things are actually equal in this world,”  says Anonymous Doug. 

“Okay,”  I say.  “But I still don’t think I’m a slut because the fact that I haven’t touched a girl since Obama’s inauguration would say otherwise.”

“You’re a slut without opportunities,”  says Anonymous Doug.  “Given the chance you would be a total slut.  So would most people.”

“I’d like an explanation on this,”  I say.  The words are slurring together at this point, like I’m Marlie. 

“Okay, give me your instinctual answer for these questions,”  Anonymous Doug says, pointing across the bar at a blond woman.  “Would you have sex with her?”

“Yeah,”  I say.

“And the chunkier brunette friend next to her that she brings along to make herself look better?”  Anonymous Doug says.

“Yeah,”  I say.

“And that whole table of hot messes over in the corner?”  says Anonymous Doug.

“Yup, all of them,”  I say.  “From the strung-out college drop-out in the arm sling to her 43-year old friend in the jean jacket.”

“The 43-year old is actually only 31,” says Anonymous Doug, not proud that he knows that fact first-hand.

“Really?  31?”  I say.  “That’s rather unfortunate.”

“So you wouldn’t do her?”  says Anonymous Doug.

“No, I’d still do her,”  I say.  “But that’s just sad she looks so much older than she really is.  I mean, 40 may be the new 30 and that’s hot, but you should at least get to be 30 in your 30’s.  Does that mean she looked 30 when she was 19?  That could have gotten her served alcohol while underage without getting carded, I guess.  But still… she’s going to look 70 when she hits 50.  You gotta feel bad for her.”

“You get over that quick when she starts talking to you,” says Anonymous Doug.  “But the point stands: the only thing keeping you from being a slut is opportunity.  And maybe self-respect and concern for your personal health.  But the potential is there.”

“So I’m a slut in the same way that there were WMD’s in Iraq,”  I say.

“You’re a slut of mass whorishness program-related activity,” says Anonymous Doug.

“So what does that make you?”  I say.

“Considering no one will remember me, does it really matter?”  says Anonymous Doug.

Probably not. 

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Tag Larkin Is Not Coming To Dinner: Part Five

Upon hearing the footsteps of the murderer coming our way, we hatched a plan to catch said murderer.  Ninja Vicki hides up on the ceiling, Samurai Cathy conceals herself against the wall near the entrance to the study.  Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat takes up sniper position by the couch.  Avonia casts an invisibility spell over the rest of us, which isn’t as good as Anonymous Doug’s original plan of having Marlie, Tina the Lesbian, and Avonia making out by the fire to lure the murderer in unawares, because murderers in horror movies can’t resist killing the participants of such wanton displays of lust.  But the ladies weren’t down for being girl-on-girl-on-girl bait.  Even on Halloween.

And so we took our places and listened as the footsteps on the hard wood floors thundered closer.  We saw a dark figure enter the study, but the shadows obscured his features.  He had something in his hands, something cylindrical, which we took as the murder weapon.  When he got to the center of the room where the body was Samurai Cathy threw on the lights and Ninja Vicki jumped down from the ceiling.  Swords were drawn, hip-mounted laser cannons were deployed, even Tina the Lesbian had a golf-club in hand.  But though our trap had been sprung, it was we who were surprised.

“It can’t be…”  Ninja Vicki said, staring down her blade at the suspected murderer.  “You’re…”

Tag Larkin Is Not Coming For Dinner: Part Four

Tag Larkin remains dead at his own Halloween party, but the accusations are still flying about his possible killer.  So far we’ve pointed a finger at Ninja Vicki, Samurai Cathy, Avonia the Wiccan Pimp, Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat and his wife Marlie.  Right now we’re accusing Tina the Lesbian.

“I didn’t poison Tag Larkin,” says Tina.  “I don’t know anything about poisons.”

“What’s to know?”  says Ninja Vicki.  “Poison goes in drink, drink goes into Tag Larkin.  Shark’s in the water.  Our shark.”

“Hey, you’re supposed to be helping me!”  says Tina the Lesbian. “Are you selling me out AGAIN at Halloween, like you did with the zombies last year?”

“Hey yourself!”  says Ninja Vicki.  “I didn’t hear a peep from you when everyone was accusing me of murder.  Where was my best friend then?”

“I don’t see Tina as someone who’s into poisoning people,” says Mikka.  “If anyone here is an expert of slipping things into people’s drinks, it’s Anonymous Doug.”

“Yeah, but that’s only in girls’ drinks,” says Anonymous Doug.

“But… who would be a more efficient killer than a ninja?”  says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “How about a man you can’t remember?”

“Anonymous murderer!”  I yell while pointing at Doug.

“At this time I would like to appropriate one of Ninja Vicki’s defenses, except this time it won’t sound retarded,” says Anonymous Doug.  “If I killed Tag Larkin, and I know everyone forgets I exist after I leave the room, why the hell would I still be around?”

“Because you can’t get off the island until the ferry comes in the morning,” says Samurai Cathy.

“But I could hide in this vast mansion and you’d never find me because you wouldn’t remember to look for me,”  says Anonymous Doug.

“He’s got us there,” says Ninja Vicki.  “Who’s left to accuse?”

“No one’s accused me yet,” says Mikka.  His statement is met with derisive laughter.

“Feckin’ hell, Meeka, I cauld be passed aut drank as shite and ya still cauldn’t kill me,”  Marlie says.  “Yer a wee sprite of a pixie.  Fack, I’ve yanked out tampans meatier than ya.”

“Could you not emasculate my boyfriend in front of me?”  says Samurai Cathy.  “He’s got enough issues as it is.”

“Hey, what about you?”  says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat, pointing a paw at me.

“What about me?”  I say.

“You could have killed Tag Larkin,”  says Tina the Lesbian.

“No, that would be stupid,”  I say.  “The narrator of the murder story shouldn’t end up being the murderer.  It cheats the audience in my opinion.”

“You could be half-assing it with this story,” says Ninja Vicki.  “You’ve phoned it in before, why not again?”

“Sometimes you just don’t have the time to write quality stuff,” says Avonia.  “Sometimes you just want to put something up for the day and be done with it.”

“We all have bad days,” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “This could be one of them.”

“So your theory on why I’m the one who killed Tag Larkin is that I might be in a creative rut?”  I say.

“Well, it makes more sense than Mikka killing Tag Larkin,”  says Anonymous Doug.

But just before Mikka could say something to feebly defend his manhood, we hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

“Wait, I thought no one else was here,”  says Avonia.  “Who the hell is that?”

“That, my friend…” I say as I put on a second pair of sunglasses over the sunglasses I put on before.  “…is our murderer.”

YAAAAAH!

to be concluded…

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Tag Larkin Is Not Coming For Dinner: Part Three

Our investigation of the Halloween murder of  Tag Larkin has taken a turn for the magical as Avonia the Wiccan Pimp has been implicated by a suspicious Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.

“Why would I want to kill Tag Larkin?”  says Avonia.  “I barely have anything to do with Tag Larkin.”

“Except for that time he kept interrupting you like he was Kanye West,” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.

“I’m going to kill someone over that?”  says Avonia.

“Victoria’s killed people for less,” says Samurai Cathy.

“But my soul isn’t empty like Ninja Vicki’s is,” says Avonia.  “I’m a healer, not a killer.”

“Then how do you explain why there’s no blood or visible wound on Tag Larkin’s body?”  says Mikka.  “It has to be witchcraft.”

“The body is face down,” says Avonia.  “We haven’t turned it over.  The wound could be on his front.”

“Still no blood,” says Bernie.

“Maybe that’s because he was hit with something that cauterized the wound immediately after inflicting it,”  says Avonia.  “Something like that laser cannon that comes out of your hip, Bernie!”

“That is malicious slander!” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat, his tail getting all bushy.

“Bernie does want the human race to die so that the cats can take over the world,” says Mikka.  “With Tag Larkin gone, who could stop them?”

“Hey!  Dan’t ya be accusin’ me Bernie a’ killin’ Tag Lark’n!”  Marlie says.

“We can accuse you too if you’d like,”  says Anonymous Doug.  “Someone had to distract Tag Larkin while Bernie took aim and fired at him.”

“I say we flip Tag Larkin over and see what’s on his front,” says Tina the Lesbian.

So we all get rubber gloves from the cleaning closet and carefully roll Tag Larkin over to see that there’s no marks on his front.

“See… I told you it was witchcraft,”  says Bernie.

“Maybe he was poisoned,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.

“And you’d know all about poisons,” says Ninja Vicki.

“But I didn’t hand Tag Larkin his last snifter glass of rainwater and grain alcohol,” says Avonia.  “Tina the Lesbian did!”

“And Tag Larkin has been known to stand outside Tina’s house, serenading her with his boombox,” says Anonymous Doug.

“Looks like someone…” I say, putting on my sunglasses, “put a stop to the music.”

YAAAAAAH!!!

To be continued…

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Tag Larkin Is Not Coming For Dinner: Part Two

We’re still standing around Tag Larkin’s body in the study of Tag Larkin’s secluded mansion that no one else can reach and we can’t leave until morning.  I think this place was called “Casa del Convenient Plot Device.”

“I didn’t kill Tag Larkin and I can prove it,” says Ninja Vicki, our number one suspect in this Halloween murder.  “Why would I still be here if I killed Tag Larkin?  Ninjas don’t linger after a kill.”

“Because if we found Tag Larkin’s body and noticed you weren’t here it would be even more obvious that you killed him,”  says Mikka.

“All right… well… I’ve been framed!”  Ninja Vicki dramatically announces.  “By my arch-nemesis Samurai Cathy!”

Everyone lets that sink for a few moments before speaking again.

“Wait… why would she frame you?” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.

“Because she hates me,” says Ninja Vicki.  “And because she’s afraid of fighting me and if I go to jail she’ll never have to.”

“If you want to throw down, sunshine, we can go right now,” says Samurai Cathy.

“But that won’t change the fact that you still killed Tag Larkin,” says Ninja Vicki.  “You killed him to frame me and because you fear Tag Larkin.  Remember our double-date at the Japanese restaurant?  You fear no man, yet Tag Larkin terrified you.”

“That doesn’t mean she wanted to kill him,” says Mikka.  “Besides, what about when you got jealous that Tag Larkin wasn’t stalking you anymore?  That sounds like a stronger motive.”

“For murder!”  I say, punctuating Mikka’s sentence.  And hitting a little button on my keychain that does a thunder sound effect.

“I’m going to ask that you stop doing that,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “It’s going to get annoying really fast.”

“Hey, I dahn’t think either Vicki or Cath killed Tag,” says Marlie.  “Na stab waunds.”

“She’s right,” says Anonymous Doug.  “I don’t even see any blood.”

“You know what this means?”  says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “Tag Larkin was killed… BY WITCHCRAFT!”

And everyone gasps and points at a very shocked Avonia the Wiccan Pimp…

to be continued…

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Tag Larkin Is Not Coming For Dinner: Part One

We were surprised to hear Tag Larkin owned a mansion on a remote island with no workable phones and no cell coverage that is only accessible by ferry from 7am to 7pm.  We were also surprised that he invited all of us over for an overnight Halloween party.  Us being me, Mikka, Samurai Cathy, Ninja Vicki, Avonia the Wiccan Pimp, Tina the Lesbian, Anonymous Doug, Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat and Marlie.

And it was an even bigger surprise when we found Tag Larkin’s body on the floor of the study.

“Murder!”  I declare.   “Tag Larkin has been murdered!”

“Are you sure he’s not just drunk?”  says Tina the Lesbian.

“E’ was anly aun ‘is tierd snifter a’ rainwater an’ grain alcahal,”  says Marlie.  “Tag can ga’ thra at least sex a’ them befar gettin’ tipsay.”

Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat sniffs Tag Larkin’s body.   “He doesn’t smell dead.  Then again he’s wearing a lot of Hai Karate. That can mask the stench of death for hours.”

“I don’t think he’s breathing,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “And I don’t sense his overpowering aura.”

“Should we poke him?”  says Samurai Cathy.

“Is no one else freaked out that we have a dead body right in front of us?”  says Tina the Lesbian.

“No, it’s just another Tuesday for me,”  says Ninja Vicki.

“Murder!”  I declare again.

“Someone call 911,”  says Tina the Lesbian.

“There are no phones and I can’t get a cell signal,”  says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat, who has a cell phone built into his robot parts.

“And we dahn’t kna’ ef Tag’s really dead,” says Marlie.

“Maybe someone should check him for a pulse,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.

“No, we shouldn’t touch him,” says Mikka.  “It might contaminate the crime scene.  I saw this on CSI: Intercourse, Pennsylvania.”

“What crime scene?”  says Samurai Cathy.  “We don’t know why Tag Larkin is like this.”

“Stand back, I’ve done this before,” says Anonymous Doug, taking a small compact mirror from his pocket and holding it under Tag Larkin’s nose.  “It’s not fogging up.  Tag Larkin is dead.”

“Murder!”  I declare even louder this time.

“Why do you keep saying that?”  says Bernie.

“Because no one of dies of natural causes during a dinner party in a secluded mansion,” I say.  “They only die from murder.”

“But no one else is in this mansion, or on this island,”  says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “The last ferry left hours ago and won’t be back until the morning.”

“Then that means the murderer is in this very room,” I say.  “And is not a Spaniard.”

“It’s Victoria!”  says Samurai Cathy, pointing at the ninja.

“No it’s not, shut up!”  says Ninja Vicki.

“Yah, is prob’ly Vickay,”  says Marlie.

“Oh, sure, blame the ninja for the dead body,”  says Ninja Vicki.  “This is racial profiling.”

“But you’re an assassin,” says Mikka.  “Who else should we immediately suspect when someone is murdered?”

“He’s got a point,” says Tina the Lesbian.

“That’s entirely reasonable,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.

“Oh, you can all suck my twat!”  says Ninja Vicki.

“No one’s done that since the Clinton administration…” comments Samurai Cathy.

“Oh snap!”  says Anonymous Doug.

Yeah, we all got a chuckle out of that one.  Tag Larkin probably would have laughed too… if he wasn’t murdered!

To be continued…

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This Party Is Dead Sexy

Regular Renal Readers may recall our rock-solid Halloween costume advice that we’ve given in previous year (women can just be sexy versions of occupations and when in doubt go as a zombie version of a celebrity).  If not, well, now you know.

This year Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat and Marlie are throwing a Halloween party that implements both these pieces of costuming advice.  All the women have to come as a sexy profession, and all the men have to come as a celebrity who died this year.  But to make sure everyone doesn’t show up as Zombie Patrick Swayze or Michael Jackson, you have to pull a name from a hat.  The same with the women, or else they’d all come as Nursemyra.

Mikka wanted either Billy Mays or David Carradine but he got the recently-deceased Captain Lou Albano, which he was fine with because of his affinity for professional wrestling.  Plus Captain Lou sort of looked like he crawled out a grave most of the time anyway so the costume’s easy.

Anonymous Doug pulled Ted Kennedy out of the hat, thus giving Anonymous Doug the rare Kennedy trifecta on Halloween.  A few years ago he showed up at a party as post-assassination JFK.  Next year he showed up as post-assassination RFK, which was sort of the same costume except the gunshot was in a different spot.  It’s not confirmed on whether he ever showed up at a party as Rosemary, the Kennedy that had the lobotomy.

I was hoping to get Ricardo Montulban, but ended up with Farrah Fawcett.

As for the ladies, Ninja Vicki picked “sexy mechanic,” which she will interpret as “sexy mechanic with a sword.”  So will Samurai Cathy with her  ”sexy patent attorney” costume.  These two never go anywhere unarmed.

Avonia was a bit confused at first when she pulled  ”sexy Ghostbuster”   out of the hat until I told her that a sexy Ghostbuster is just like a regular Ghostbuster except with a lot more cleavage and thigh-boots.  And Avonia has both of those things.

Tina the Lesbian argued that it was demaning and objectifying for the women to have to dress sexy while the men got to be zombie celebrities.  So Bernie let her pick out of the zombie hat and through some stroke of luck she pulled Zombie Bea Arthur.

Bernie pulled zombie Walter Cronkite, which means he’ll just be getting drunk behind a tiny kitty desk and reporting on everything as it happens at the party.  His wife Marlie pulled “sexy crack whore.”  We didn’t know that crack whore was an occupation, but if it’s in the hat who are we to argue.

And though Tag Larkin wasn’t invited, Tag Larkin will show up anyway dressed like he always is for Halloween: as Tag Larkin wearing a hat.  What hatwill it be this year?  A top hat?  A fez?  A World War I German helmet?  Only Tag Larkin knows for sure.

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All those sexual conquests will be lost in time… like tears in the rain…

A sprained ankle has put me out of commission for my Jason Bourne murder classes, leaving me more time to go drinking.

“You know, I’ve never seen a foot tattoo that looked good,”  I say to Anonymous Doug as we go into our fourth pitcher of Cocktoberfest Ale.  “Arms and back… yeah, most of them work fine.  Hell, I saw a guy with a dragon on the side of his head and I thought that worked great because he also had a bright pink two-foot high mohawk.  But foot tattoos just don’t work.”

“Last night I think I fucked a replicant,”  says Anonymous Doug.

*blink* *blink*

“What?”  I say.

“Replicants, you know, like from the movie Blade Runner,” says Anonymous Doug.

“Yeah, I know what they are,” I say.  “But why do you think you fucked a replicant?”

“Because I don’t think this broad I banged could pass the Voight-Kampff test,”  says Anonymous Doug.  “That’s how vacant she was.”

“But you fuck vacant women all the time,” I say.

“This one wasn’t even smart enough to have empathy,” says Anonymous Doug.  “She had all the stuff that humans have, but there just didn’t seem to be anything else behind her eyes.  Her vapidness was more than palpable.”

“She could just be an awful human being,”  I say.  “A self-absorbed sociopath with no regard for anything but what’s she’s currently doing and the delusion that she is center of the universe.”

“No, I’ve fucked woman like that too,”  says Anonymous Doug.  “This one had even less humanity than them.”

We get about halfway through our pints before I feel ready to speak again.  “So… you fucked an android…”

“And I’m not sure how I feel about that,”  says Anonymous Doug.

“Well, she had the requisite parts,” I say.  “I don’t think it’s anything to feel queasy about.”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t fuck a replicant, I just would like to know ahead of time,”  says Anonymous Doug.

“Well, at least you don’t have to worry about getting an STD off her,”  I say.  “I never heard of anyone getting gonorrhea off a replicant.”

“And they don’t get pregnant either,” says Anonymous Doug.  “Still, I’d like to know ahead exactly what I’m jamming my dick into.  Preferably before I handcuff her to the headboard.”

Don’t we all… don’t we all…

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NASA implements the Tag Larkin Program against the Moon

Renal Readers may recall a few months ago that Tag Larkin announced his intentions to fight the Moon.  Apparently NASA heard this declaration and decided to beat Tag Larkin to the punch, so to speak.

Last week NASA slammed a probe into the Moon to see if there’s water there, based on the debris that kicks up upon impact.  In essence, we’re bombing the Moon. Needless to say Tag Larkin is pissed off about someone hitting the Moon first, but I was interested in what other people here at the bar had to think about it.  Other people who won’t backhand you in the groin just for standing within arms’ reach.

“Take that Moon!” says Mikka.  “If you think that just because you’re out in space that America won’t bomb you, think again.  Venus, you’re next!”

“As someone who celebrates and draws energy and inspiration from the Moon, I find this highly distressing,” says Avonia the Wiccan Pimp.  “I would assume the Moon Goddess would be highly displeased with having things slammed into her.”

“Hasn’t India been hitting the Moon with shit for a while now?”  says Tina the Lesbian.  “Is this part of some sort of lunar pissing match between the US and India?  Don’t we have enough problems as a nation?”

“It’s like someone at NASA heard the song Bad Moon Rising by Credence Clearwater Revival and said ‘Not on my watch!”  says Anonymous Doug.  “Engineers are a strange lot.”

“If we blow up the Moon, all those dumb dogs will stop howling at it,” says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “I am for this idea.”

“You know the expression ‘must be a full moon out tonight,’ meaning that there’s a lot of crazy people around, right?”  says Ninja Vicki.  “No full moon, no crazy people.”

“Is this some sort of preemptive strike against Al-Qaeda’s army of werewolves?”  says Samurai Cathy.  “That without the full moon the terrorists can’t shift into wolf form?  Is there a silver shortage?  Because that’s all it takes to take down a werewolf.  I’ve done it before.”

“Werewolves don’t need the Moon to shift, Catherine,” says Ninja Vicki.  “Teen Wolf taught us that.”

“And the Moon doesn’t make people go crazy, Victoria,” Samurai Cathy says.

“Well, the Moon is a sort of conduit of spiritual energy,” Avonia the Wiccan Pimp steps in.  “Some people can channel it into good works while others don’t do so well with its more chaotic attributes.  It’s neither good nor evil.”

“That’s why we have to blow it up, so that no one channels the Moon’s energy into a chaotic mega-weapon,” says Mikka.

“Why can’t we make the Moon into a lawful mega-weapon, you know, for the forces of good?”  says Tina the Lesbian.

“Because the forces of good don’t make mega-weapons,” says Anonymous Doug.  “That’s why the rebels in Star Wars didn’t have their own Death Star.  Because it’s hard to be the good guys when you own something call the Death Star.”

“What about Voltron?”  says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “You can’t tell me a heroic robot made out of mechanical lions is not a mega-weapon for good.”

“It’s not the size of the Moon though,” says Mikka.  “Voltron is clearly a counter mega-weapon, built only to take out the mega-weapons of evil.”

“So we need Voltron to destroy the Moon,” says Ninja Vicki.

“No one needs to destroy the Moon!”  yells Avonia.

“Moon apologist!”  says Bernie the Half-Cyborg Cat.  “How about taking the side of the celestial body you happen to live on for a change?”

“Hey, being for the Moon doesn’t mean being against the Earth,” says Samurai Cathy.

“Cathy’s on the side of Al-Qaeda on the Moon!”  says Ninja Vicki.

This was the point that the fight broke out.   Vicki and Cathy went sword-crazy.  Bernie shot his laser at Avonia, who returned fire with lightning bolts from her fingertips.  Doug and Tina ended up wrestling on the floor for some reason, probably so Doug could cop a feel.  Mikka got grabbed by Tag Larkin and thrown through a wall.

We blamed the $3,500 in damages on the Moon.  Just because the Moon is harsh mistress doesn’t mean she’s not liable.

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Haiku Friday – Anonymous Doug 10/09/09

This one’s called “The Internet’s Down on a Friday Night.”

Can’t get to my porn
Only option is the new
Chadwicks catalogue.

This one’s called “Nothing Hot About This Mess.”

Muffin top blooming
Size eight?  Eight times three maybe
Your denim screams “Kill me.”

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