Art Attack Central

February 9, 2002 by jfMac

Strange Bedfellows

Soon as I typed bedfellows I was struck with a goolewhack insight; Spent last five minutes searching without success; however I do think bedfellow or bedfellows is a good bet with something. I will refrain from whacking the rest of the day! Hmmmm, refrain might be the companion word? NOT, and nor is it hotbed or deadbeat, although deadbeat bedfellow is a good starting place = 28.

Twenty ate what?

What was left of Bertha’s Mussels after Mr. Potatoehead (see yesterday’s post) cleared the joint. Well anyway as I was dusting off the Gypsy he was pumping the accordion vigorously and began singing in Hungarian. Mr. Potatoehead darted past us making a beeline for the harbor. Instantly I knew he meant to throw himself off the dock. He was a rotund Jimmy Steward in It’s a Wonderful Life, and I was his female Clarence counterpart. Great, just what I had in mind for a Friday evening in late December. As I dashed after Mr. Potatoehead I could hear the Gypsy singing behind me; I felt his green eyes pulling me backwards like magnets.

Did you save him?

Mr. Potatoehead was almost to the dock when I tackled him. With the Gypsy’s song pounding in my head, I could hardly hear what Mr. Potatoehead was saying, but this is the gist of it: “I’m trying to get the water taxi; let go of me you idiot.” What I heard was, “I’m dying in the water; don’t you get it.” It was fortunate I did not yet have my wings, or surely they would have been crushed rolling on the cobblestone street under the weight of Mr. Potatoehead.

“Reality is a crutch for people who can’t handle drugs.”

–Lily Tomlin

Later

I know, I know… I said no more whacking, but here’s another reabsorbed hatband.

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