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Remember the SNL skit "I hate it when that happens?"
I sliced my finger open with a buck knife; it bled for 2.5 hours.
Michael Palin: Ahh.. Very passable, this, very passable.
Graham Chapman: Nothing like a good glass of Chateau de Chassilier wine, ay Gessiah?
Terry Gilliam: You're right there Obediah.
Eric Idle: Who'd a thought thirty years ago we'd all be sittin' here drinking Chateau de Chassilier wine?
MP: Aye. In them days, we'd a' been glad to have the price of a cup o' tea.
GC: A cup ' COLD tea.
EI: Without milk or sugar.
TG: OR tea!
MP: In a filthy, cracked cup.
EI: We never used to have a cup. We used to have to drink out of a rolled up newspaper.
GC: The best WE could manage was to suck on a piece of damp cloth.
TG: But you know, we were happy in those days, though we were poor.
MP: Aye. BECAUSE we were poor. My old Dad used to say to me, "Money doesn't buy you happiness."
EI: 'E was right. I was happier then and I had NOTHIN'. We used to live in this tiiiny old house, with greaaaaat big holes in the roof.
GC: House? You were lucky to have a HOUSE! We used to live in one room, all hundred and twenty-six of us, no furniture. Half the floor was missing; we were all huddled together in one corner for fear of FALLING!
TG: You were lucky to have a ROOM! *We* used to have to live in a corridor!
MP: Ohhhh we used to DREAM of livin' in a corridor! Woulda' been a palace to us. We used to live in an old water tank on a rubbish tip. We got woken up every morning by having a load of rotting fish dumped all over us! House!? Hmph.
EI: Well when I say "house" it was only a hole in the ground covered by a piece of tarpolin, but it was a house to US.
GC: We were evicted from *our* hole in the ground; we had to go and live in a lake!
TG: You were lucky to have a LAKE! There were a hundred and sixty of us living in a small shoebox in the middle of the road.
MP: Cardboard box?
TG: Aye.
MP: You were lucky. We lived for three months in a brown paper bag in a septic tank. We used to have to get up at six o'clock in the morning, clean the bag, eat a crust of stale bread, go to work down mill for fourteen hours a day week in-week out. When we got home, out Dad would thrash us to sleep with his belt!
GC: Luxury. We used to have to get out of the lake at three o'clock in the morning, clean the lake, eat a handful of hot gravel, go to work at the mill every day for tuppence a month, come home, and Dad would beat us around the head and neck with a broken bottle, if we were LUCKY!
TG: Well we had it tough. We used to have to get up out of the shoebox at twelve o'clock at night, and LICK the road clean with our tongues. We had half a handful of freezing cold gravel, worked twenty-four hours a day at the mill for fourpence every six years, and when we got home, our Dad would slice us in two with a bread knife.
EI: Right. I had to get up in the morning at ten o'clock at night, half an hour before I went to bed, (pause for laughter), eat a lump of cold poison, work twenty-nine hours a day down mill, and pay mill owner for permission to come to work, and when we got home, our Dad would kill us, and dance about on our graves singing "Hallelujah."
MP: But you try and tell the young people today that... and they won't believe ya'.
ALL: Nope, nope..
genius!
WEETRAD!
a rolled up magazine
Cherry flavored cough drops
Chee-z Poofs
Loose braces..
a stack of green paper, this high>
A stack of BLACK paper this high (see below)...
..
.
.
.
----->
Sheesh. Green paper. Ick.
Loose braces..
A loose woman with braces.
a copy of Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass LP on vinyl
(you know which one)
Loose braces..A loose woman with braces.
Not with that mouth she ain't.
Not with that mouth she ain't.Loose braces..A loose woman with braces.
You ever see Jada Fire?
Alfred Pennyworth
white leather shoes with a 4 inch lift!
an Unlicensed Nuclear Accelerator on yer back.
a quart of old Pennzoil with a snail shell floating in it
a quart of old Pennzoil with a snail shell floating in it
The Terror of All Horrors: Relatives and Family over for Thanksgiving, Sometimes Both.
yakety yaks
My Little Centaur!
Rhesus Monkey Torture Kit
Torture for who, the kit owner or the monkey?
ooooooooooo. How bout a ventriliquist dummy that seems to come to life when the ventriliquist is all alone? And people start disappearing. First the whiny wife, then the cheating agent, then the gassy bartender, then the witty but cranky cabbie, then "Old Captain Jack", then those punk kids that skateboard by the stage door.
And it turns out that the dummy isnt really alive, its the psychotic failed magician that had to take on ventriliquism to make ends meet and got hooked on gin?
a shrimp po'boy and some slaw