Suggested Audio Candy:
Kermit The Frog Rainbow Connection
Statler and Waldorf, remember those guys? The two wonderful whinging whinnies who shared a V.I.P. box at each of the Muppets’ performances. I love those guys, such a brace of grumpy old men, concealing their reported sexual dysfunction issues by diverting the spotlight away from themselves and into the path of whatever woefully inept performances took part of center stage. “That was rubbish!” would be their retort and their words cut through many a Muppet, eviscerating their dreams just for the purpose of their own sick amusement.
I always had a soft fleshy spot for these grumbling grouches as, whilst Oscar was spurting his noxious bile from the confines of a recently pissed-in trash can in Sesame Street, these two were suited and booted, and the first to walk the red carpet each night. They had an opinion on absolutely everything, even Uncle Traveling Mac’s postcards to the Fraggles came c/o Statler and Waldorf so they steamed open the mail each time and ridiculed the hapless marionette for his globetrotting exploits.
More bitter than a sack of angry lemons, they became legends in our living rooms, endearing themselves to us with every acidic quip. But, for all their popularity, they were little more than a couple of miserly old farts who probably smelt like sanitary pads and mothballs. Who were they to apply slander to the Pigs in Space or dishearten Animal by comparing his drumming prowess to a load of clattering trash can lids? They even hurt the Swedish Chef’s feelings as they hollered “Chicken Fucker” while he prepared his dish or at least that’s how it sounded across the auditorium.
As for our beloved Beaker, well they just delighted in flummoxing the little fella while Dr Bunsen frantically attempted to hold his spectacles on without a nose for them to rest upon. Admittedly Beaker had it coming, all the time…meep meep meep…such a self-centered puppet although he made up for it simply by existing. They weren’t amused…rumor has it they found Miss Piggy repulsive and that’s just unacceptable.
I love a Ham & Cheese Panini and this is due, largely in part, to the voluptuous pig in a blanket who really knew how to work our spit. Kermit really had his work cut out, donning a spindly green amphibian lance barely capable of putting a dent in her frontal barricade. God loves a trier and he gave it his all each time, aided by the fact that Piggy got off on his webbed toes.
Anyhoots, as you can see, a lot went on behind the veil as that curtain dropped each week and Statler and Waldorf had the perfect vantage from which to lob their insults. So it got me to thinking…these two are a little more worldly-wise shall we say than most. Who knows what kind of filthy hijinks they got up to in the sixties, when Robin was still merely a spawn in his daddy’s green bean sack. But when did they get so cynical? Is it destined for us all…and if so, then when can we expect this transformation to occur?
Run DMC Run’s House
Am I a man? Or am I a Muppet? If I’m a man then that makes me a Muppet of a man. Should I begin my search for a suitably melancholic side-kick to join me in my box each night? Has it been foretold that I shall find much negative and nowt inspirational in everything I view? And will they secure my catheta before I put on my girdle each night as I’d hate to be one of those old people…you know, the ones who carry a faint whiff of piss around wherever they go. I have already deduced that I will not be going out like that.
No standard issue moccasins or pea-green slacks. No Old Spice or paisley socks either. Possibly a monocle although I’ll rock that shit with a Kangol. I’m going to grow old disgracefully, much like Statler and Waldorf. I shall emit just the right degree of pessimism whilst still attaining my sense of fun.
Fuck it, when I go all Miss Daisy and get carted away to the nearest ‘retirement home’ I’m going to be clad in street clobber and whistling Run’s House as I pop and lock my way to the pantry and claim dibs on the Battenburg. Then I’m going to grease up my green palm, pull up a lily pad and knock one out over wildlife programs.
I may not be responsible for my behavior at that point so if I’m spread out in my armchair with one of my testicles teased through my zipper, simply let it be or inconspicuously tuck it back into my Y-fronts. Coherence may not be a tool at my disposal come the time but I promise to be a hoot right up until my final bed bath. If I shit my slacks then consider it an offering and maybe work on your response time for the future. And should I grope one of the interns’ asses then that’s simply the meds.
I reserve the right to be a little cranky from time to time, after all, since the cataracts played up I have had a rather disastrous turn of fortunes. My cat…named Alan…finally went to the big litter tray in the sky, nobody has been round to mow my sodding grass all summer and if I can smell piss then I know y’all can too. But just like the incorrigible Statler and Waldorf I intend on living the life of Reilly and going out in style. Therefore, you can stick your foot spas and heated wheat-bags, I’m going to sit here in my own urine and scream out “That was rubbish!”
Gimme Dat Piggy
Give me some piggy it’s really no biggy
Just one little slice of that bacon
Don’t think me as mean as I grab me some lean
As there’s plentiful there for the taking
A rasher or four couldn’t hurt to explore
this piggy temptress below me
I’ll unzip my fly look her straight in her eye
And kindly request that she blow me
Now call me a swine but this porkers a corker
She scrubs up quite well for a grunter
Hoofed mammal or not, there’s some rind in that hind
And no man or frog shall put asunder
Take a look at that rack puts a pleat in one’s slacks
and if your chain rattles then yank it
Duplicitous boar, so what if she’s whore
I’d still have this pig in my blanket
Now it is around that time that the crook begins to appear from the side of the curtain and drags folk off mid-flow. I am determined to avoid such a fate as I’m wise to the tricks. I can hear heckling from the box above and this actually gives me a degree of comfort. Should they not like what I say then they can feel free to ostracize me all they want but if they cut through my pelt, I’ll still bleed Muppet blood after all.
It’s time to get sin started,
Keeper of the Crimson Quill
Copyright: Crimson Quill: Savage Vault Enterprises 2014