Dodo Eggs

Miss Nomar:  Hello and welcome to another interview with celebrities that couldn’t break into Hollywood’s unemployment line much less show business.  I’m Miss Nomar special correspondent to DodoEggs.com.  I’m here with a man who wears tank tops regardless of the situation…Bobby Mustang.  Thanks for being here Bobby.

Mustang:  You forgot to mention I’m the developer of the all-silk tank top for when the occasion demands a little extra class.  It’s called the Silk Top for swank gyms, you know.

Miss Nomar:  Don’t worry Bobby you’ve got the market on silk workout wear.

Mustang:  Gee, I don’t know, I was walking by this store called Vindictive Secret the other day and I think they’re already making a girl’s version.  I went in to try one on and they didn’t have my size.

Miss Nomar: That’s a lingerie shop.

Mustang:  I know.  I just went in there to see if the girls working there actually wore that stuff.  Apparently they don’t.  Big disappointment.

Miss Nomar:  All right, let’s rewind.  You’re famous for wearing tank tops everywhere you go:  fancy restaurants, bar mitzvahs, and funerals.  Why?

Mustang:  Well, my original goal was to be a first chair bagpipe player for the New York Philharmonic but they weren’t interested.  It kind of tore my life up a bit.  You know, growing up with posters of famous bagpipe players on my closet door. 

Miss Nomar:  You grew up in Kentucky.  Where did you get your hands on a set of bagpipes?

Mustang:  I had to make them myself.  I stole four or five recorders from the music teacher at school and punched them into my dad’s bowling bag then strapped them down with duct tape.  I unzipped the bag a bit and put the hose to an air compressor in it.  Wow, that’s a lot of music!
 
Miss Nomar:  You’ve got to be kidding me.  So back to the original question, why do you wear nothing but tank tops?

Mustang:  When my career in music fell through, I got a job selling what I thought were testosterone shots to body builders.  I would wander the gym in my tank top selling the stuff.

Miss Nomar:  But you can’t weigh over a hundred and thirty pounds!  Who would buy bodybuilding supplies from you?

Mustang:  Oh, I just told them I was injured and that I used to bench four hundred fifty pounds or whatever.  Look, everyone exaggerates in a gym.  If a guy says he lifts three hundred, you can bet he can only do two hundred sixty-five.  Everyone does it and if you try to watch him then he’s having a bad day.

Miss Nomar:  You mentioned you thought it was testosterone.

Mustang:  Yea, I screwed up reading the label.  As it turns out, I was selling tetanus shots.  My bad. 

Miss Nomar:  Do people often confront you about wearing a tank top to church or weddings?

Mustang:  Yea, but I tell them I’m the bouncer and it’s usually ok.

Miss Nomar:  A bouncer at a wedding!  That’s ridiculous!  And by the way, I could probably take you.  You’re a complete weakling.

Mustang:  (With an air of confidence) Some press on tattoos and I present more of a problem.  But I suppose you’re right.  It would take a mighty man indeed to handle a woman of your girth.

Miss Nomar: What!?!?!?!

(The tape captures a stifled scream as Miss Nomer wraps her python-like fingers around Bobby’s Mustang’s slender throat.)

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