Okay so that sucked. But you know what? I’m not even mad Al. That was wonderfully mad of you to try and take me out with a literal EXPLODING MOUNTAIN. Props for almost getting me an obligatory free pass into Valhalla for one of the most METAL death stories ever, but just like your barber, neither of you are getting any satisfaction today. I had just finished a pretty solid interpretation of Careless Whisper at amphitheater karaoke that night, when I was stopped by this old dude using a scythe as a walking stick, and eyebrows so thick they had their own weather patterns. This guy wasn’t just old though. He was permanently cloaked in sepia tint kind of old, like whenever you looked at him it you were looking through a photo album of worn polaroids where you still looked young and stupid. Claimed his name was Saturn, which was odd, but I mean... look at him. When enough odd things hang out together they kinda just become a vibe right?
Him: “I hope you find the strength to dance again my friend.”
Me: “Oh I can totally dance, I just got a soft spot for George Michael”
Him: “Your story of longing and loss helped me feel. I have not... felt since I had to eat my children.”
Me: “Well, this just got incomprehensibly awkward. I hope things work out for you. Can I suggest “One More Try”? That one always gets me in the feels.”
Him: “A great disaster is about to befall this place. I would not see your journey end as an abbreviation.”
Me: “Well, what’re you waiting for?!”
And that’s how I ended up on this... space ship? When Father Eyebrows offers to help you out of some imminent disaster, just say yes. Don’t overthink it. Because 9 times out of 10 its gunna at least be interesting. Besides, the dude in the other room just never stopped... loving on himself. I saw his statue or cast thingie in the museum the other day. I guess he died doing what he truly loved.
Himself.
Which reminds me.
Fusty Luggs:
The mouth feel of this one is absolutely amazing. It’s like an insult mixed with eating multiple soft serve ice cream cones at the same time. Absolutely a cornucopia of delightful sensations, for everyone except the person you’re directing it at. The Scots have struck again, this time with “Fusty” meaning moldy or stank, and “Luggs” meaning ears or head. Stinky ears? Smelly Head? Who cares?! The meaning almost matters less than the actual intent behind it. It just sounds so casually derisive, and because no one is sure what you’re actually insulting, it’s hard as hell to even reply to it! It’s the 16th century version of apology accepted, you’re welcome.
Fustilarian:
Questionably tight tights and stupid hat aside, Shakespeare had some layers to his put downs that I think we can all appreciate. My foppish brother in prose and posture knew how to expertly turn a phrase. We already discussed Fusty, but adding “Arian” as a suffix?! Just to make it sound more pretentious? Dude literally took a hammer and instead of throwing it, he put it in a rocket launcher just to make it hit that much harder! You’re not just calling them creatively smelly, you’re calling him smelly from high orbit! Go ahead and call down that fire baby, because space warfare has just arrived with cod pieces as part of the standard package.
What a weird place this is. Everyone’s wearing color coded pajamas with strange badges, and they have a major thing for indirect fluorescent lighting, and bland carpet patterns. It feels like I’m trapped in some kinda Staples meets Holiday Inn Express, but without the cheap continental breakfast. From what I’ve overheard, everyone seems pretty fixated on “Going where no man’s gone before.” I support a healthy sense of adventure, I just thought OSHA would have demanded seatbelts or something. I mean next thing you know you’re getting pulled into a weird gap in the space time continuum, panels are exploding, people are throwing themselves over dramatically to the ground playing dead, and something called a “wormhole” has everyone up in a tizzy.
Whatever, I’m gunna go see if I can find some BBQ sauce. I still got some tendies from the karaoke after party.
-RC