Every Friday the 13th, I can't help but think back to the
strangest afternoon I had one year, no, not when I busted up Connie Chung's human trafficking ring, but the one year when... (this is there I would insert that blurry wave
dissolve, you know, the one that was so effectively used in all 1980's sitcoms to establish the
start of the flashback--what happened to that anyway? I'm watching Mad Men and
all of a sudden Don is staring in to space then cut to random kid in a barn
with his dad getting his face kicked in by a horse, the dad, not the kid. I was
totally confused. Now if they had used this simple dissolve, I would have
totally made the connection... art is dead, people just don't take pride in
their work... but I digress)... I was at Party City
looking for a Sponge Bob piñata, but for some reason, could only find a bunch
of Hannah Montana ones, which kinda makes sense, I mean, I'd like to take a
stick to her. So I'm walking up and down the aisles until I finally find an
employee.
"Excuse me, do you have any SpongeBob Piñatas in the
back?" I ask politely.
"I don't work here, can't you see that I'm shopping
for my son."
"Oh wait, don't I know you?"
"Why I'm... I'm and old friend of the
Christys."
"Oh, I don't kno--," I start, but stop short
when I see her kid walk out from behind her. "Oh shit!," I finish,
barely stopping myself from vomiting all over the Hello Kitty candy.
"You see, Jason is my son, and today is his
birthday."
"Goddamn, I hope yer buying that kid a mask!" I
look around frantically, grab a William Shatner mask, and stick it on the kids
hideous face just so I don't have to look at it.
"I think yer getting your references mixed up,"
the woman says.
"I think you got that kids DNA mixed up,
sister!" I say. Then the kid mumbles something from under the mask. I
pause for a second, deciphering the words falling out of the monstrous thing's
mouth, "Did that thing just say 'Kill her, Mommy?'"
"Come, dear. It'll be easier for you than it was for
Jason," the woman says.
"Bump that, I just came here for a piñata. I didn't
sign up for this freaky shit," I say as I turned and ran out of the store.
Later that night, while I was gluing some yellow crepe paper
to a cereal box [I totally full on Martha Stewarted my own damn SpongeBob piñata],
I heard on the radio that the woman went on a killing spree. Apparletly she had
these gloves made out of knifes and killed a bunch of teenagers who were
playing with Ouija boards while having sex and smoking pot, the teenagers that
is, not the woman. I guess she also drowned that mongrel kid of hers. So it
wasn't totally an unhappy ending.
... oh and my homemade SpongeBob piñata was totally tits!
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