Law and Order

My friends, I’m a big fan of Law and Order. I’m such a huge fan that I’ve written a scene of the show. It is my masterpiece, my greatest work. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed visualizing it:

Judge: I grant the defense’s motion to suppress the gun.

Jack McCoy: Your honor!

Judge: Watch it, McCoy, you’re treading on thin ice.

Jack McCoy: This is unbelievable! The detectives had every right to—

Judge: That’s it, McCoy, I’m holding you in contempt!

Jack McCoy: There’s no court in session—

Judge: McCoy, you’ll shut your mouth or I’ll have the bailiff remove you.

Defense Attorney: Your honor, in light of recent developments, the defense motions to suppress all evidence.

Judge: Motion granted.

Defense Attorney: Motion to suppress the Assistant Prosecutor’s clothing.

Judge: Motion granted.

Assistant Prosecutor: [Looks to Jack McCoy.]

Jack McCoy: Do it, Connie. We can’t afford to lose this case.

Judge: I warned you, McCoy! Bailiff, remove this man.

Waiter: I’m just a waiter.

Assistant Prosecutor: [Removes clothing.]

[Brief tableau.]

Defense Attorney: Motion to suppress the prosecution.

Judge: Motion granted.

[End scene.]

Practical Jokes

My friend loves playing practical jokes. He’s pretty good at them, too. One time, for instance, he came over and hardboiled all the eggs in my refrigerator, all 144 of them. “Holy shit! Someone’s broken into my fuckin’ house!” I yelled. I swept up the broken glass and tried eating some eggs and I laughed. Hah, that son of a bitch!

Another time he replaced my can of whipped cream with a can of shaving cream! He even went so far as to serve me a slice of pumpkin pie. “Would you not like some whipped cream with that pumpkin pie,” he asked me.

“Haha, no thank you, good friend. I am lactose intolerant. You know this.”

“I insist. I will get it for you.”

“Really, I should n--,” wham! A rolling pin to the back of my head. I woke up with shaving cream all over my face. Hah, that fucker!

His most recent practical joke was sheer genius, though. Well, it would’ve been had I not seen it coming a mile away. He tied me to a tree and drove a mile away and came at me full-speed in an 18-wheeler. “The joke is on you, you bastard,” I yelled as the vehicle burst into an orange ball of fire the size of a building.

“You son of a bitch!” He responded frenetically while diving into a lake to put out the flame that had engulfed his body.

“My friend, like water is going to prevent third degree burns!” I told him.

Hah, man! This guy, I tell ya!

The Origin of Valentine's Day

It is said that in the days of yore, a mythical beast of the vale with "eyes of blood, scales black like death, and claws as long as men along its back" (Roberts 1) would terrorize feudal villages surrounding castles, swallow people whole (usually lovers in the act of coitus), and set entire forests ablaze. Speculation arose as to why those within castle walls remained safe, but recent research suggests that a tiny medicinal plant grown by the king's doctor was responsible for warding off the beast of the vale (Kingston 2). Knowing this, the king would dispatch his court to spread the medicinal plant--scientific name: Thymus Vulgaris, vulgaris from the greek 'vul,' to ward, and the Latin 'gar,' meaning beast (Doris 1)--throughout the bordering villages.

In one such instance, the king's jester, rushing the plant to a nearby village, encountered the beast of the vale and stood steadfast. The beast, never so closely coming across the plant, ran into the forest forever disappearing from the kingdom. Proclaiming victory, the king announced "The Beast of Vale-thyme Day" be celebrated throughout his kingdom. Lovers rallied and began celebrating Valethyme Day with rebellious acts of romance against the beast. As generations came and went, the Valethyme Day celebrations were forgotten and eventually replaced by a celebration of he who stood his ground against the beast of vale, the jester Valentine.

Another Filler

“And now let’s go to Larry King in Los Angeles.”

“Thanks, Wolf. Let’s go to Karen in New York.”

"Thanks, Larry. We take you to John in Phoenix. It looks like we’re having trouble reaching John in Phoenix. John, can you hear me? John can you hear me? Let’s go to Larry in Los Angeles. Larry, can you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, Karen.”

“John in Phoenix reporting.”

Cash Cab

“Where to, buddy?”

“Sweet! Aren’t you the host of Cash Cab! Aw man, I can’t wait to make a mobile shout out.”

“Not today, man. Today I’m just a cab driver.”

“Oh.”

Adventures in Politics

I had the pleasure of shaking Senator Obama’s hand after tonight’s debate. I looked him in the eye and told him, “Senator, you’ve my vote.” Still shaking his hand I said, “I’ll vote for you because you know before he goes to bed, McCain cries about not being able to help everyone. You know Romney spends half his night praying, and you know Clinton spends half her night studying. You, though, I know as soon as you hit the sack, you’re gonna spend half your night making love to your wife. You’re one smooth motherfucker.”

“I am smooth. We’re going to ***** bar tonight. Join us.”

We went to ***** bar and I stood in line. “Come on, frank.” I walked to the door and the door man stopped me. “He’s with me,” said the senator, but the door man didn’t move. “Do you know who I am? Look at my face.” The door man let me in.

Smooth.

Inside: “What will you drink?”

“Umm, a Holden Caulfield, please.”

“May I have a vodka rocks and a Holden Caulfield please,” asked the senator.

“What’s a Holden Caulfield?”

“What’s a Holden Caulfield, frank?”

“Well scotch and soda.”

“That’ll be 23 dollars,” said the bartender.

“Do you know who I am? Look at this.” He showed him a membership card: Member: 109th, 110th Congress. Our drinks were free. He left a c-note tip. Smooth.

We chatted it up for fifteen minutes about immigration reform, universal health care, and Denmark when he noticed a blond eyeing me.

“Go talk to her,” he said.

“Nah, I’m shy.”

“Talk to her and take her this.” It was a mandarin vodka rocks. I was struck with an elegiac pang but walked up to her.

“This is for you.” We talked for fifteen minutes about immigration reform, universal health care, and Denmark before some chump bumped into me and me into her drink into her. “Forgive me,” I said.

“It’s okay, they’ve got it.” It was two guys in black-on-white suits and shades. Shades in a bar. Cool. Not really.

They talked into their wrists and pulled her away.

Senator Obama came up: “Do you know who I am?”

“Oh, hello Senator,” she said.

“Oh, hey Chelsea. This is my friend. He’s voting for me.”

“Oh really?” She began walking away again.

“No, I’m kidding. He’s voting for your mother.”

“Good,” she said with a smile and stayed to talk. The Senator smiled and winked to me and to the penguin suits before walking off to the bar to order another vodka rocks. What a smooth motherfucker.