Mouth Feels

Me and Jay Bee say things together into mics because we are lonely. 

Me and Jay Bee did this again, and boy a lot of stuff happens in this movie and we do not remember WHY

Still moving and still sick, but part 3 of this is coming so let's keep catching up!

I'm sick, and moving, but part 3 of this nonsense is coming up soon so let's all get caught up. 

A man is marrying his sister and is obliged by court order to inform people over the phone. 

Anthony Ant hosts Pitches Get Stitches, a show where you can pitch whatever you want and nobody gets hurt. 

The opening track if you're interested: https://soundcloud.com/robtunstall/parappa-wright

We're back?

Teddy Bridgewater (no, not that one) hosts another award winning installment of his acclaimed radio series, Noun Fight, wherein callers tell him what two things they think should fight and then he insults them. 

There was an old woman (and the term is used loosely) who lived in a house made of bones of young lovers who had passed by along the dirt path leading to the village in the valley below. She had the appearance of both a sweet timid old lady and a fearsome ogress (with the latter only appearing when you have no room left to run). Her house, which had grown from a charming squat cottage to an equally charming two-storied dwelling, embodied the very essence of comfort from the outside (and from the inside too, until the door was shut) thanks to an enchantment passed down from her mother (it is supposed, as it could just as easily be her father (and I should say again that both these terms are used loosely)). The village, which her house overlooked, would have been called a resort town had the term been in use at the time. It lay in an idyllic green valley, next to (and over) a river, surrounded by high mountains on all sides. It was renowned as a center of fertility and juvenation (and occasionally rejuvenation for not all visitors were young and some spend their youth faster than others) and attracted its fair share of newlyweds and those who just said they were to avoid a scandal.

The people of the village had mixed thoughts about their gatekeeper. In many ways (and in truth all ways that mattered to some) she was of no concern to them. During the busy season for the town (which began not in spring but at the end of winter with each couple believing themselves to be getting a jump on the others) dozens of carts would roll in to town each day and at the very most she could ensnare one pair before the setting of the sun. Truth be told the town had more business than it needed, and often in recent times disappointed couples had been turned away due to insufficient lodging. This was why, despite her being situated along the only path into the town, she (repugnant and foul though she was) was considered no danger. This was the line of reasoning that long prevailed. But, as the years passed, eventually the villagers came to realize they could not idly tolerate what they knew to be an evil and a meeting was called.

Well, it all started last Saturday night when me and Mr. Moneybags had to stop Sandy from jumping off the golden gate bridge. I mean, strictly speaking we had to stop her getting in her car (we live in Iowa). This proved quite difficult partly because Sandy is infact well over eight feet tall and also because Mr. Moneybags exists only inside my head and in certain milton bradley games and was only able to offer stern words of encouragement and no actual physical help.

Yeah, I don't know when me and Mr. Moneybags started living together. He says he's always been here but I believe I can trace our meeting point back to the Robutussin. Hm? Yeah, that’s a case of Robutussin. Yeah it comes in cases! I also don’t know why we decided to adopt a mentally disturbed kodiak bear named Sandy.

Yeah, that Sandy, quite an interesting character really. I'm still not really sure where she gets her money from. Maybe it’s normal though. I mean, I don’t know. Maybe all bears are rich? But suffice to say, she is loaded.

I don’t know, maybe amassing all that wealth with no effort or work on her part led her to feel her life is worthless thus prompting this desire to jump off a bridge. Maybe it's because she's fuckin' crazy. It's probably not important.

Back to the plot. Restraining a kodiak bear is a lot like petting a puppy. But there's lots more blood (well...maybe just a little more...I don't know...I usually have shards of glass stuck in my hands from when I've been out back groping in the ol' glass pit, you know…you know how it is. So I wrestled Sandy to the ground as Mr. Moneybags cried "that's it old boy! yes, that curmudgeon is surely the cats pajamas where'd I put my drink?" Or whatever the fuck he says, I don’t even think that’s his real accent.

But yeah, my struggles with Sandy became increasingly futile and I realized I would have to resort to tranquilizers. The only real problem with this is that it is almost impossible to get her to take them straight up. The only way I can trick her into taking them is by wrapping the drugs up in a small child. Naturally this offends my conscience somewhat..I mean..c'mon...first I give a little kid drugs..then feed them to a bear. That's just plain evil.

I couldn't take it anymore. Between my insane and/or imaginary life partner and my adopted mentally challenged bear something had to give. What's more I think Mrs. Feathersby next door was starting to suspect something. I mean sure, she had 25 kids...but now that she was down to two it was only a matter of time before she noticed somethin' was up!

So I ran.

Well....drove...I mean Sandy's car was just sitting there (and it's real nice, like I said that bear is rich. Or maybe, for a bear, just middle class. I guess I never figured that out. But yeah, that, friend, is my story.