The Peace Moonbeam Chronicles

Movie Mayhem

May 26, 2006

Los Angeles, California

 

What an unbelievable week we had! After scoring tickets through one of Scooter's Hollywood pals, Thursday we joined the brightest stars in Tinsel Town at what had to be the most popular show of the year! Of course I'm talking about the Hollywood premier of Al Gore's film on global warming, "An Inconvenient Truth."

I had been looking forward to this event for weeks. I spent all day Thursday getting my hair done (green, symbolizing the earth, with an assortment of fresh flowers), and tie-dying a new outfit. I brought out my best sandals (Birkenstock Ottawas), and even painted my fingernails. I knew there would be plenty of press there and I really wanted to shine! Later, Scooter arrived, lookin' good in his new "Gore 2008" shirt and carrying a bottle of tequila and a bag of fresh herb, presents from our buddy Pepe. We partied hard for several hours until it was time to go.

Once inside our cab, it was apparent Scooter had drunk way too much, as he was farting and belching loudly, and generally acting like a buffoon. After he callously made fun of the cab driver's turban and accent, we were forced to walk the last five blocks to the theater. Once there, things only got worse. On the red carpet, in front of a large contingent of press, Al Gore himself was answering questions about his film. Awesome! All of a sudden, I noticed Scooter behind him, walking back and forth like Frankenstein yelling, "I'm alive! I've invented the internet!" Oh crap! I ran and hustled him into the lobby before Al saw him. Whew!

Inside I complied with Scooter's surly demands for popcorn by getting in line at the concession stand. I looked around to check on him and what I saw made me want to puke! There was Scooter urinating in a potted palm to the disgust of dozens of onlookers, including many small children! Oh good grief! I quickly pulled him into the theater and into a seat where thankfully he apparently passed out after vomiting onto the row in front of us. Great.

Finally the movie started, and everything was fine for about ten minutes until mention was made onscreen of "greenhouse gases." At this point drunken comedian and all-around pinhead Scooter ripped an angry loud fart that reverberated in the hushed theater like a sonic boom, provoking hysterical laughter from the crowd, and a heavy-handed ejection for the both of us. I have never been so embarrassed in my life! The only solace I have is the fact that Scooter really does love Al Gore, and spent the whole next day weeping like a little girl because of his misbehavior. Good.

Goodbye Cruel World

May 19, 2006

Berkeley, California

Well, this was one dramatic week. It all started late Monday night when Scooter, still in obvious distress over the death of his hamster "Jumpy," called to tell me goodbye forever. It seems he couldn't face a world "where little innocent hamsters die for no reason, and Republicans are on the verge of sending everybody they don't like to religious forced-labor camps that are controlled by Halliburton." I guess the fact that the little rat died after Scooter had forgotten to feed him for about a month hadn't influenced Scooter's fatalistic reasoning. I jumped into my car and raced to Scooter's house, hoping I could get there in time before he did something stupid.

Upon arriving at Scooter's place I found the door unlocked and rushed in, calling his name. I heard a weird sound in the bedroom, and there my worst fears were realized. Protruding from about two feet of oozing white foam I saw poor Scooter's legs beside the bed. Oh crap! I reached into the bubbling mass and pulled Scooter's limp body onto the bed. Apparently the source of the foam was Scooter himself, as the stuff was coming out his nose and mouth at a prodigious rate. What was this stuff? My question was answered by the dozens of ripped-open packets of Alka-Seltzer and the empty quart bottles of club soda. I guess a lack of decent prescription drugs had forced Scooter to improvise, and judging by the evidence it was clear he had tried to blow himself up, apparently somewhat successfully.

As I tried to figure out the best course of action, I noticed Scooter had dug up Jumpy's little decaying body and had placed him in his shirt pocket. I also noticed a piece of paper pinned to Scooter's shirt that I assumed to be a suicide note, but now was pretty much just a big blue blur, as the ink had been no match for the bubbling liquids. I made a mental note to tell Scooter Kevorkian to do the note in pencil next time. Anyway, I called 911 and while waiting for them to arrive, did the only thing I could think of to save my friend - I grabbed his wet 'n dry vac I had given him for Christmas  and duct-taped the hose to his nose, figuring it would suck the foam out of him. I was terrified my efforts might be too little, too late. I cranked the vacuum to "high," and prayed.

Fortunately the paramedics arrived quickly and Scooter was rushed to the hospital where thanks to the valiant efforts of the ER crew, he was saved. The most serious damage he suffered was apparently caused by a cataclysmic belch that had propelled a baked bean he had eaten for dinner into his nasal cavity. They said just two more Alka-Seltzers could have possibly blown this bean through the tender nasal tissue and right into his brain, where it could have potentially killed him. Oh, Scooter was so lucky!

After bringing Scooter home from the hospital, I was delighted to give him the new little friend I had picked up at the pet store - a beautiful brown and white hamster I named "Jumpy 2." You should have seen the smile on Scooter's face when I placed the cute little thing in his hands. The only bad thing was I must have accidentally sat on little Jumpy 2 on the way home, as he was pretty flat and stiff as a plank. That was over an hour ago and judging by the fizzing I hear coming from the bathroom, I think I'd better call 911. Gotta go.

Celestial Jumpy

May 13, 2006

Berkeley, California

Scooter's hamster, "Jumpy" died this week and Scoot's been taking it pretty hard. He came over drunk the other night and dragged me into a long, deep discussion on Heaven, hell, and the meaning of life. He was obviously seeking assurance that Jumpy was in Heaven. I guess I shouldn't have told him Jumpy went to hell because he pooped all over the coffee table, or made those sizzling noises and "hamster screams" like he was burning up, as Scooter got real hysterical and fell to his knees begging God to rescue Jumpy. I finally told him I was just kidding and lied that I had dreamed Jumpy was in a big gold hamster wheel in the clouds. It seemed to give Scooter some relief, and he got up and finally went home.

A couple of days later Scooter and another guy rode up to my house on bicycles. They were dressed in black slacks, crisp white shirts, ties, and goofy helmets. When I came to the door, Scooter handed me a bunch of literature and started rambling about "The Prophet," "gold tablets" and other crazy stuff. Oh crap, Scooter had turned into a Mormon! Great. I had his little friend wait on the porch while I invited Scooter inside so I could see how bad this situation was.

Brother Scooter showed me the weird one-piece underwear he had to wear. He told me how he had found true peace in his life, and how, after he died, he would become a king over his own planet in the "Celestial Kingdom." He said he knew he wanted to become a Mormon when they told him how they baptize the dead so the deceased can go to Heaven. As you might guess, the first thing Scooter did was baptize little dead Jumpy so he could go to, as he put it, "The Animal Planet" in the Celestial Kingdom. I didn't have the heart to tell cultist Scooter that "Animal Planet" is a TV show and not a celestial place.

Everything turned out okay, as the Mormons soon excommunicated Scooter after finding out about the baptized hamster and his excessive pot smoking. He tie-dyed the holy underwear and came away with a really cool swimsuit, so all was not lost.

 

Alternate Universe

May 5, 2006

Chicago, Illinois / Berkeley, California

I guess my day started normally enough. I got up, woke the kids, fed the dog, and made breakfast. Scooter joined us at the table, said grace, quickly downed a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, then kissed the kids and me goodbye before bolting for the door, late as usual. While the kids brushed their teeth, I cleaned up the dishes while keeping an eye on the clock. I vowed to myself that we would all start getting up 15 minutes earlier so we could enjoy more time together without having to be so rushed. Sure!

Fifteen minutes later, I waved goodbye to the twins as the KinderCare preschool van pulled away. I reflected upon the day's schedule: nail appointment at 9:00, the Orkin man coming by at 11:30, lunch with the girls at 12:30, a volunteer meeting at GOP headquarters downtown at 3:00, and then home to meet the kids' van by 4:10. Whew! After reading a few Psalms, I jumped into my new Escalade (love it!) and headed for my nail appointment.

Patty's been doing my nails ever since we moved to Chicago and we've become great friends. She always has something to say about the state of the world, and today was no exception. "Did you see on TV that commie whack-job Cindy Sheehan is back protesting outside of the president's ranch? It's absolutely incredible that anyone would listen to that woman. What's happened to this country?" That was my cue to reassure her that the whole country isn't spinning out of control, that the ACLU and Ted Kennedy are not on the verge of closing down the churches, and that the Cindy Sheehans of the world are not taking control.

After my usual words of comfort, Patty did something I found strange: she put down the emery board, took both my hands, and leaning in close, whispered, "I fine you muy sexy." Not believing what I thought I heard, I asked her, "What did you say, again?" She said, "I fine you so sexy, I can' help myself from wanting you." Her breath smelled like a burnt bush doused in tequila, and I noticed she was unusually tan and sweaty. I stammered, "Patty, don't..." but she held my hands tight and leaned in to kiss me. Oh crap, I had to do something!

With all my strength I pulled my hands free, grabbed my purse, and swung it as hard as I could, catching Pepe on the side of his face. With a thud he flew backwards into the coffee table, sending the tequila, glasses, and bong flying everywhere. Once I realized where I was, I broke down in tears of happiness, knowing it had all been an awful nightmare. However, I was still pissed that Pepe tried to put the moves on me, but the severe concussion he suffered was probably payback enough.

I feel like one of those people who had a near-death experience, only to be given another chance at life. I am more determined than ever to rid this country of the conservative disease that this administration has created. Also,I'm definitely not drinking tequila any more with Pepe.

Thanks to:   The Owners Manual