Dodo Eggs

Synopsis:  If you’re just joining the story, Roger Kiser is a young man who was abandoned by his foster family at a bus stop with nothing but a backpack and a bus ticket.  The bus eventually dropped him off at a western outpost known as Buffalo Rind, North Dakota.  Without shelter from the mid-winter cold, Roger sought out the town’s largest church in hopes of receiving help.  Instead he was directed to the large home next door.  The home’s resident called for Roger to approach the home.  While walking up the yard, three dogs freighted Roger and he slipped on an icy patch breaking his family’s jar of urine (boys used it in the car for emergencies).  Let’s pick it up…

It took several minutes for Roger to reach the screen door.  He opened it and gave a weak greeting. “Uh, hello sir.  Are you Minot?  I understand he lives here and the notice on the church door said he could help me.  I need a place to stay for the night.”

The older gentleman narrowed his eyes.  He studied the young man trying to tag an age to him.  Roger waited uncomfortably for Minot to answer.

Minot became trapped by a stampede of quick thoughts.  “Hmmm, he looks like he’s about a junior in high school.  Probably a run away.  Look at that!  He’s not even wearing a coat!  Wait,” Minot sniffed a bit.  “Is that urine I smell?”

“Sir?” 

The smell put a scowl on the Minot’s face that was impossible to soften.  The old man’s demeanor and freezing breath gave him the look of a puffing dragon. “Yes, I’m Minot.  Kid, how old are you?  Where are you from?”

Kiser leaned stiffly to one side and placed his backpack on the ground at the base of the porch steps.  “Sir, I just turned nineteen and I’m from Lexa, Arkansas.” 

Roger was still standing awkwardly in the porch doorway.

It wasn’t often people from the southern United States made it this far north.  They usually froze to death somewhere in the middle of Nebraska. “Arkansas huh?  Ok then, come in son.  I shouldn’t be so rude regardless of how you smell.”  The old man turned from the doorway and took a seat on one of three weathered wooden chairs.  “Here, take the seat opposite and slightly downwind of me.”

Roger left his backpack where he had dropped it.  “I’m sorry sir.  When the dogs ran by me, I accidentally dropped my jar of pee.  I may not smell too hot but it’s mostly my bag.  You see it was my job to keep track of the boy’s bottle during long road trips.  In retrospect I should have gotten rid of it.”  He placed his carry case on a small table.  “My name is Roger Kiser.”

“Hello Roger,” the aged man’s face eased considerably.  His expression wasn’t pleasant just nonbelligerent.  It gave his breath the look of a white cloud instead of smoke.  The man brought his hand up to the chest of his heavy flannel.  “My name is Minot. Now, where is your family?”

“I have none.”   The look of desperation that lingered on Roger’s face turned forcefully to disgust.  “I sprang fully formed from a social worker’s garbage can in Little Rock.  She arranged my adoption to a proud family that can trace their lineage all the way back to the first marijuana plant.  After my usefulness expired, they mercifully released me to the whims of US interstate system.”
 
Minot responded with a heavy sigh.  He took a few moments to study his boots before responding.  “Well Roger, when you leave here where do you plan on going?”

This was bad news.  If Minot wasn’t going to help him then he had nowhere to go but back over to the church.  A bit of disappointment tinged his voice.  “Uh, well, I suppose I’ll go over to that church on the other side of the street.  If there is anyone there, I’ll ask for someplace to sleep tonight.  If no one answers the front door, I’ll try the buildings in the back.”   

Kiser stood and retrieved his carrying case.

“Wait, believe me, Ollie doesn’t want you over there.”  Minot sounded certain.  The old man paused again before continuing. “I can arrange a place for you to sleep.  But tomorrow we will contact your family and see if there is some way you can be reconciled.”

Roger turned and walked straight for the screen door.

Minot was out of his seat now.  “Look, you can’t just run off.  There is nowhere for you to go and I’m willing to bet you don’t have any money.  Why don’t you sit back down and tell me why you don’t want to go home.”

 “Sir, I would rather train roaches to do tricks on a street corner in Haiti than return home again.”

“Well, sit down and tell me what’s wrong with Arkansas?”

“Well, it isn’t really Arkansas anymore sir.”  Roger walked back over and took his seat he took a deep breath, and narrated his unusual voyage.

After hearing Roger’s story, Minot wasn’t sure whether to believe the young man or not.  His tale sounded surreal but the earnestness with which it was told seemed genuine.  In the end, he decided to offer the young man a more permanent solution and convince him to return to his family at a later date.  At least he would be out and lost in the middle of nowhere.

“Roger,” he began.  “I have a cellar that would make a fine apartment.  There is no access from it to the main house.  The only entrance is a heavy slanted door out on the back of the house.”  The old man raised his voice a bit.  “However, it takes two things to rent the cellar.  It takes commitment and courage.  It requires a little more of one than the other.  Do you happen to have either?” 

“Uh, what do you mean by that?”

“Do you want someplace to stay or not?”

Roger quickly responded, “Well, sure but…”

“Then get your pee bag and let’s go.” 

The large pet flap on the screen door opened and closed.  One of the dogs casually sauntered to his master’s side.  In his mouth was a segment of the shoulder strap from Roger’s backpack.

For a moment, the old man seemed amused. “It looks like the dogs have decided that you are below them in the pecking order around here.”  Minot leaned over and mumbled something to the dog that sounded Germanic.  “Das stimmt nicht.  Er wohnt hier.” 

In response, the dog growled and dropped the tattered remains of Roger’s strap.  It then scampered back to the front yard.  “Yea, sorry Roger.  I should have told you that anything in the yard the dogs consider theirs.  They show very little remorse or interest in compensation.”

“Uh Minot sir, what did you say to him?

“I told them you would be staying here and that they were not to eat you.  Relax while I grab the cellar keys.”

Jennifer swept into the Aquatics office with team of cute little cartoon bunnies and bluebirds behind her.  Her voice had new love’s sweet sound, “Hellllloooo Mr. T!”

I raised my hand a bit and lifted two fingers.  “Hello Miss Wotten.  It sounds like you and Brian have yet to break up.”

“Oh Mr.T, you just don’t understand.  We’re doing just great and he in love with me.”  She fell sideways into the swivel chair and with a slight push off the desk she spun in nauseating circles.  “I’m sure this is the man for me.  He’s going to graduate from Panderbuilt, he’s on the football team, and we’ll be very happy.”

“Statistics are not on your side.  Instead of wishing for the moon, you should try something that you can actually attain.  Let’s see, how about a lukewarm spouse, a stained couch, and free checking.”

“Mr. T!  Can’t you tell how in love I am?  And he feels the same way!”

I switched gears to something more interesting.  “So you told me he’s on the football team before but I’ve never asked what position he plays.”

She smiled, “He’s a guard on the offensive line.  I’m not sure which side but I know the quarterback gets a real nice look at his butt and now so do I.”

“So he’s pretty big huh?”

“Oh, yea!”  She brought her arms up and flexed.  “Brian is six foot six and weights like three hundred and thirty five pounds.  You should see what he can eat in a single sitting!  We went out for breakfast last week and he ate like a dozen pancakes, three omelets, bacon, and like five glasses of milk.”

“Well,” I deadpanned.  “That sounds like a boy with a healthy appetite.”

“You bet Mr. T.”

“Isn’t it ironic that a such a healthy appetite will wind up killing him.  The human body isn’t built for that kind of size.  He may not play football forever but I’ll bet he’ll enjoy eating that way forever.”

Jennifer’s eyes grew wide then narrowed.  “Oh, I know he can’t always do that.  Don’t worry, as soon as he’s out of football, he’ll slim down to around two hundred fifty or so.”

I took a deep breath and prepared to deliver the bad news.  “Jennifer, how many eighty year old men do you know that tip the scale anywhere near that weight?  What about seventy-five or even seventy?”

She paused before answering.  “You know, I don’t know any man that old and that heavy.  What are you saying Mr. T?!”

It was time for my next sift on the lifeguard chair.  I stood and walked to the door.  “Nothing other than I’m sure you and Brian will be very happy together for a very long time.”

“Thank you Mr. T.  I appreciate you good wishes.”

In pre-historic times, the chicken was not the humble, witless bird it is now. It stood an imposing twelve feet tall with a massive, razor sharp beak. As it ran, its hook-like talons tore the earth away in knotted clumps. It was too large to fly but with strength that rivaled the most powerful dinosaurs, it could leap and glide for brief periods. The pre-historic chicken would use this ability to give it a final bust of speed to swoop upon its prey. The chicken was feared as the mightiest of predators.

The only creature that kept the chicken’s population in check was its traditional enemy the fearsome Tyrannosaurs Rex.

Men and beasts alike would huddle on the edge of sight to behold these titans dual. The power and ferociousness of the Tyrannosaurs Rex was singular. Rows of razor sharp teeth collapsing together with earth bending strength meant death for the feathered warriors if they were too slow or unwary. However, the keen intellect of the chicken allowed it to attack in small teams striking the lizard’s backside then darting away.

Chicken society even rose to the point of a structured hierarchy! And the mightiest amongst them was named Clak Cluk. Under the stern, shadow casting beak of Clak Cluk, chicken society even verged on a code of laws almost a hundred years before man.

One bright spring, Clak Cluk’s wife laid an egg after many years of infertility. To celebrate, Clak Cluk proclaimed, “Let the hunting parties (cluck, cluck) disperse, and bring back twelve mastodons (cluck, cluck) for my feast of happiness!”

With preparations completed, the pre-historic chicken world was tense with anticipation for the new prince’s birth. Finally, the egg shook and the miracle occurred! The heir to Clak Cluk’s throne burst forth to claim his birthright!

Instead of clucks of joy, beaks were snapped shut in amazement and shock. The prince was grossly undersized! It was also immediately apparent that the prince was also lacking in the warrior instinct so valued amongst chicken kind. It seemed the only thing he wanted to do was peck and poop!

Despite Clak Cluck’s obvious disappointment and embarrassment, he announced him the heir, “I give you Clucky! (cluck, cluck) He is the Crown Prince of the Chicken Tribes! Until he grows and develops (cluck, cluck) into the warrior he will someday become, I charge all of you to protect him and train him (cluck, cluck). No matter where he may stray (cluck) he must be protected! Do this on behalf of him now(cluck, ba-gock), and he will do mighty things for you in the future! Now, let the feast begin!”

As time edged along, it became plain to see that Clucky was not growing as he should. Not only that, but intelligence was hardly detectable. The greatest chicken instructors did their best with Clucky, yet all they could teach him were better ways to peck and poop.

One day Cluky was pecking and pooping with his constant contingent of Clak Cluk’s finest chicken warriors. A fox was hunting nearby, and observed the Crown Prince pecking and pooping.

Hungry from days of unsuccessful hunting the fox made a poor decision. He tried to scamper into the clearing, snatch the prince by the throat, and escape. The fox braced then sprung into the opening. The guards let out a mighty cluck, and every one of them fell upon the foolish fox.

This commotion was enough to frighten Clucky, and send him running. With wings flapping and with great clucking, he ran into the open pasture. Chickens avoided the wide-open spaces for they were the hunting ground of the Tyrannosaurs Rex.

It did not take the chicken warriors long to track their prince. A messenger was sent back to the main camp to retrieve assistance. When the chickens barged into the meadow, their combs became stiff with fear. Clucky near death at the hands of a wandering Tyrannosaurs Rex!

The ground shook as the chicken tribe ran into the field to protect their crown prince and other hungry Tyrannosaurs Rexs entered the fray. Additional Jurassic predators who where hungry for a taste of Clucky’s tender meat appeared and came for the unsuspecting bird.

Clak Cluk and the other chickens fought valiantly but with Clucky continually running between the Tyrannosaurus’s legs and through the jaws of other foes, the victory was out of wing’s reach.

As the final pre-historic chickens began to fall into the grips of death, a mortally wounded chicken snatched the prince in mid poop, and raced away from the battlefield. The strength of this chicken began to fail as he searched frantically for someone who could be trusted with the prince.

Then he recognized a human emerging from an outhouse. (A recent human invention which propelled him into the age of technology.) The valiant chicken raced towards the human, laid Cluky before him, and breathed his last.

The man’s name was Kur-nal. He looked down at the still pecking prince in wonder. “Boy, you sure look tender. I’ll bet I could fit at least eleven herbs and spices on that back of yours.

Hmmm, I wonder what would happen if I bred you with a mean tempered canary?”

Thus, we have the modern chicken. Fallen from its once lofty place, the modern chicken is but a shadow of its former form. Roosters gained a colorful plume and mean temperament from the canary. The remainder is all Cluky.

Do not mourn over the outcome of this tale for it does have a happy ending. Our friend the Kur-nal died a very wealthy man.

In the brazen interest of boosting my readership, I am subscribing to the traits that make the web’s most popular blogs such a huge waste of time.  If you want incendiary language, useless opinions, and the slight chance that what your reading could offend you, than this is your post!  It’s even in list form and seasoned with just the right amount of humor!

The Top 5 Thinks I Hate About You Fortified By A Dash Of Humor!

5. Men With Long Fingernails- Your father may have forgotten to tell you this or perhaps your mom didn’t think it was that important but… long fingernails are for girls!  Why are you growing them out? Are you planning on painting them? 

I’ve shied away from shaking guys hands if I discovered they had longer fingernails. 

4. People Who Prolong Meetings With Too Specific Questions- What’s the quickest way to lower your popularity where you work?  Urinating near the water cooler?  (Nope)    Continually hitting coworkers up for fundraisers? (Close)  Turning your microwave popcorn into a raging, flaming ball of sulfuric gas?  (Getting “warmer”).

You guessed it.  It’s the end of the day and all anyone can think about is getting out of the meeting room.  The last item on the agenda is a sticky subject that always brings out the inane questions.  You promise yourself not to throw a punch at the first person that asks something stupid and you know you’ll fail.  It looks like another Saturday at an employer mandated Anger Management Workshop for you.

Here it comes… “How will this policy affect me picking up my fifteen year old from band practice?”
3. Kids (or Sub-Adults) Who Walk Around With Their Pants Half Down Or Underwear Showing – There is no faster way to show off your complete ignorance and lack of taste than adopting this fashion statement first made popular by inmates. 

In fact, a team of Nobel nominees worked for three years trying to find a faster way to broadcast, “Hello Police!  Please look at me suspiciously.  If you’re looking, I’m selling.”  They failed miserably.

If you want to show off your fruity colored underwear that badly, why don’t you just slip them over the outside of your pants?  At least you’d be able to run when the police come for you. 

2. People Who Are Too Competitive For The Game- I know this may sound crazy but sometimes a game of basketball or touch football is not a test of manhood.  Sometimes it’s just for fun.  If somebody is getting too hot, that’s a good time for time out.  All the other participants should stare at the angry player and quip things like, “Hey pal, who’d you make the 100 dollar bet with?”  Or, “Relax man, your fans in Burma still think you’re a great player.”    

1. People Who Walk Around With That Stupid Looking BlueTooth - Hey, who’s the bigger geek?  The guy who watches Star Trek religiously or the guy with the communicator taped to his ear?  Can you hear Scotty through that thing?

Anyone should feel self-conscious wearing those goofy things since they immediately draw the eye of whomever you’re talking with. 

One last thing, if you are on the phone so much you need it taped permanently to your ear, you’re on the phone too much!

What makes an interesting post?  Blog “experts” suggest ranked lists, inflammatory opinions, information that strongly relates to the reader, and a bit of humor.  To this end, I am now presenting to you the three hundred pound, unshaven mother of all blog posts…

Top 10 Things I Absolutely Hate About You With Humorous Explanations! 

10. Themed Ties- Fashion is at least three times easier for men than it is for women and yet some of you dumbknuckles can’t seem to get it right.  Brown dress pants (check), oxford button down (check), tie with condiments as the theme (check).  Hey pal, you should see my Hellmann’s Mayonnaise tie!  It’s awesome!

9. Gangsta, Boom-thump Music- I let my brother borrow my car and the next time I drove it all my radio presets were set to this gangsta-thump music.  It wasn’t funny and now we don’t speak to each other. 

Folks, this stuff absolutely sucks!  Eleven out of ten of these “artists” couldn’t read the instructions to Chutes and Ladders much less a sheet of music.  Say what you want about rock or country but at least they know how to play an instrument.

8. Driving A Hummer- You realize this vehicle was designed with military applications in mind right?  Are you planning on invading Canada anytime soon?  Well, I’ve got bad news for you…you’ll run out of gas (or money for gas) before you get there.

7. Computer Help Menus – Is there any doubt that this is what software companies send the rookie programmers to do?  If you are at all responsible for these menus, then you should know that I despise you. 

“Yea, we just hired the new guy from India.  He doesn’t speak English very well but he’s got a programming degree.” 

Supervisor responds, “Fine, have him do the help menu.”

6. Drivers That Ride My Bumper In The Slow Lane-By the way, my car is ten years old and the only way I’m getting any money out of it is to screw your insurance company.  If I see a squirrel come anywhere close to this road I’m slamming on my brakes.  All I have to do is wear a neck brace for a couple of months and I’m collecting a big fat check. 

5. (Oh, yea.  Here’s another thing blog “experts” will tell you.  “Hook them with something for the next day.”)

There’s a problem with large schools, churches, and bureaucracies.  In purpose, these institutions are designed to service important individual needs but sometimes fail when they grow too monstrous.  To illustrate, here are some causes and effects… 

                                    BUREAUCRACIES
Cause- Fantastically fragmented and overlapping responsibilities allows service providers to blame shift their lack of effort and efficiency to the institution in general.

Effect- Ben Teply’s application for a lost title on the family’s 1984 Mercury Capri disappears into Alabama’s DOT.  Thirty-dollar application fee’s last received distress signal was heard fifteen months ago.

Calls are made resulting in an automated response, “Press one to speak with someone who’s on their lunch break.  Press two if you want to hear this menu again in Spanish.”

                                          SCHOOLS
Cause-Huge campus allows school boards to cram up to two thousand five hundred kids onto one campus.  Fire drills resemble crowds outside Wal-Mart the day after Thanksgiving.

Effect-Only the extremely gifted make the football, basketball, baseball, wrestling, track, cross country, soccer, band, badminton, backgammon, freeze tag, and papier-mâché teams.  Every normal kid must resort to personalizing his or her locker and playing Dragon Breath with their loser friends.  (The sequel, Dragon’s Pits, is good too!)

                                         CHURCHES
Cause-A church is considered a success if it grows to tremendous size even though Scripture stresses no such thing.  (Read DodoEggs.com, Chapter 5, Verse 11- “Thou shalt not serve powdered donuts with out sanctified napkins.”)

Effect-During the fall months of 1998, Matt Teply wore the exact same outfit to his fiancé’s seven thousand member church seven Sundays in a row.  I’m sure no one cared.  (The reader may wonder how Matt gets by with such bad behavior.  We weren’t married yet.)

Moral – Bureaucracies will always be what they are but such oversight doesn’t need to plague churches and schools.  Schools should be limited to no more than five hundred students and churches must ensure all members are plugged into small groups.  It seems counter intuitive, but the smaller the school or church the greater impact it can have on a person.

Synopsis:  Roger Kiser is homeless in the town of Buffalo Rind, North Dakota.  It’s just after Christmas and the weather is cold enough to give Santa frostbite.  Roger approached a large cathedral in search of some help.  The notice on the church doors instructed him to approach the stately mansion next door.  Roger approached the iron gate and was greeted by a trio of unwelcoming Doberman pinchers.  An old man emerges from the home and instructs Roger to toss each dog a penny.  He does and the dogs disappear. 

Giving the hinges a good hard stare, Roger skipped all three steps and ascended onto the lawn’s brick path.  He gently closed the gate behind him.  The squeak that had alerted the dogs had strangely disappeared. 

Roger took a few steps toward the home and nearly fell.  A transparent layer of ice over the snow made each step a bit of a balancing act.  The driveway near the home was free of ice and snow indicating that the path Roger had chosen was never properly cleared.

It was just another twist in his quest to find some lodging for the evening.  The older gentleman had obviously mistaken him for someone named Oswego.  On top of this, the dogs had disappeared again which meant they could reappear at any moment.  Kiser felt as if he was on the precipice of becoming dog food.
 
He was halfway up the path when the dogs made their unexpected reappearance.  Roger was nearing the home’s patio and was trying to make eye contact with the old man so he didn’t notice the rushing canines right away.  They came at a run but they weren’t barking.  The only sounds at all were the short multiple snaps of hardened snow breaking under their paws.  They came like bullets tearing around the mansion’s corner.

They were racing directly toward Roger.  When Kiser finally noticed them, he panicked and tried to twist his torso back to the safety of the gate.  As he switched directions his right foot slipped from underneath him with his left hanging in mid-step.  The backpack slid off his shoulder and Kiser landed face down on the unforgiving, frozen earth. 

He heard the sound of glass breaking but was momentary unconcerned.  He heaved himself to one side prepared to protect whatever limbs he could but the dogs had already passed.  One leapt gracefully over his backpack the other two altered their course slightly to transcend him on both sides.  An instant later they were around the mansion’s corner and gone again.

“Hey son!  Sorry about that!  Don’t let the dogs bother you!  If they didn’t want you here you’d be dead already!”

Kiser picked up his backpack and recognized the stench immediately.  He knew that his family’s travel jar of urine had broken, and that his scant belongings were forever tainted.  As quickly as he could, he removed the small carry-on to protect the cell phone.
 
********************

Before hearing the commotion associated with Roger’s arrival, Minot had been enjoying a crossword puzzle at the kitchen table.  Thursday evenings were the quietest part of the week for him.  He took that time to relax.  If only the puzzle would cooperate, he would be having a wonderful time.

“Hmm, let’s see…a ten letter word for successful and prosperous.”  He tapped the eraser end of his pencil against his pursed lips.  Inspiration struck.  “Hmm, B, U, T, T, K, I, S, S, E, R.”

He was in the middle of erasing several more reasonable answers that no longer fit, when he heard one of the dog’s resolute “your attention is necessary” barks.

Minot grudgingly grabbed his boots and stepped out the heavy front door, and onto the porch.  Before pulling the door shut, he flipped on the outside light.  It wasn’t quite dark yet but his vision wasn’t exactly keen.  He had left his glasses on the table and cursed his forgetfulness.  There was someone standing on the other side of the front gate, but it was hard to identify whom with seventy-year-old eyes.

The slumped stature however, did look moderately like his brother.  “Oswego?  Oswego is that you?  Well c’mon then!  Offer the dogs a penny, and they will leave you alone!  Then hurry on up here!  You should know that by now you brainless prop!”  He turned to retrieve his glasses.  “I’ll be back in a minute.”

When he returned, the visitor was about twenty feet from the porch.  Minot gained a better view of what he thought was Oswego.  He then mumbled about his failing eyesight.  This young man was definitely not his brother, and the old man didn’t feel like enduring any solicitations.

“This better not be another stupid, worthy cause.  Just because of my profession, people think I should give to everything!  Well maybe I have priorities!   Just last week, I purchased twelve boxes of Youth Scout’s pastries.  Those idiots mixed up my order from blueberry to rhubarb.  Rhubarb!”  Minot’s face crumpled up with distaste.  He hated rhubarb, but was forced to eat them because he strongly believed food should never be wasted.

The young man was about halfway up the path when the dogs ran past him.  Sometimes his dogs would dash around the house kicking up snow.  He could only guess they were just chasing each other or racing.  Whatever it was, Oswego couldn’t complain enough about their adverse effects on his lawn and landscaping.  The old man should have cared for his brother’s concerns but often didn’t.   

The old man loved his dogs.  As pups, however, they caused more problems than they were worth.  Rex, King, and Caesar had been their original names.  After two weeks of ownership, he switched them to Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Mephistopheles.

“Ha, those dumb dogs are probably going to scare the pee out of that poor kid.”  
Roger jumped, and yelled for mercy as the Dobermans sprinted by.  He dropped his backpack, and fell hard.  Something broke when his bag hit the ground. 

The older gentleman could only shake his head in disgust. “Well crud, I suppose I’ll be asked to pay for that.”  He took a breath and raised his voice, “Hey son, sorry about that.  Don’t let the dogs bother you.  If they didn’t want you here you’d be dead already.”

From the Desk of Norm DePlume,
Greetings from the Graduate Studies Office at Dakota University – Medora Branch.   
 
We conclude our twelfth submission with a close estimation of Zit’s constructed date with a Miss Linda Flemsburg.  Miss Flemsburg, a colleague of Sally Gruntsky, has also spent the last six mouths in deep seclusion with the lowland gorillas of central Africa.

Events of scientific significance are listed below in chronological order.

6:09 PM – Zits arrives at Yukon Hall which is a girl’s dormitory.  (Note:  This is not her real residence.)  He is wearing a tan polo shirt with jeans and boots.  Zits has also applied a generous amount of an expensive cologne titled Pure Ego.

Miss Flemsburg recognizes the scent and lectures Zits on the fate of the vinca tree.  “Oils from that rare tree are prime components of skunk juice like Pure Ego!  It’s a shame that the resources of Western Uganda are so pillaged by big business.  And then suckers like you come along an buy them.”

Zits nods dutifully and thinks, “The package said it would make her hot for you.  This can’t be what it meant.”

6:12 PM –Zits opens the door of his borrowed car and invites Miss Flemsburg to sit.  He begins driving and appears stressed especially as the silence mounts.

With a chuckle, he finally quips, “Wow, I think I can feel my antiperspirant breaking down.”

She smiles at him briefly then takes out her cell phone.  During the rest of the drive, Miss Flemsburg begins texting her friends.  Not knowing what she is saying sends Zits’ sweat production up two fold.

6:22 PM – They arrive at the restaurant and are seated.  Zits immediately asks for water.

6:46 PM – As the conversation continues to lag, Zits pulls a crumpled sheet of notebook paper from his pocket and begins reading the smudged script.  He acts as if he is adjusting his napkin. 

A second later he asks her, “So, uh, Lori, what are your feelings about school this semester?”

“Our relationship isn’t there yet, Zitman.”  She pauses a second before adding.  “What are you looking at?  Is that a cheat sheet?”

Zits is forced to admit that he uses a game guide for his video game world and attempted to try the same concept for dating.  Miss Flemsburg finds Zits’ efforts more pathetic than endearing. 

7:49 PM –During the movie (Appropriately titled, “Eight bucks a Ticket, Sucka.”), Miss Flemsburg gets lost coming back from the bathroom.  Zits is finally able to relax without her brooding presence and passes the gas he’d been constricting since 6:00.

(Note:  Our observer caught Miss Flemsburg trying to leave the date early.  He reminded her of the contract.  After a bit of strenuous negotiations, she agreed to take only half the stipend and leave immediately.)

8:55 PM –Zits drives back to his dormitory looking forward to four straight hours of playing Dragon Breath on-line.  Tells Binko that talking with Miss Flemsburg was like, “shoveling coal.”  Binko immediately asks for her number.

In order to better understand the “larval” stage of male development, we have hired a female student named Sally Gruntsky to date Binko.  Miss Gruntsky has just returned from a six-month field study of the lowland gorilla and feels comfortable with too much hair and bad posture.

5:58 PM- Binko shows up at Yukon Hall, one of the girls dormitories. (Note:  This is not Miss Gruntsky’s real place of residence).  Binko is wearing his characteristic black band shirt.  He has not only tucked in his shirt but has also stuffed his long ponytail into his collar.

6:01 PM – Binko greets Sally with a plastic flowers.  He adds, “These will last forever.  Much like our love surly will.”  Sally retreats to the kitchen alone to “put them in water” and shake off the creepy feeling.

6:14 PM – “I have no car.” Binko informs his date.  “So I thought we’d stroll down to the restaurant.”   The “stroll” involves a five-mile march through the busy commercial district and a life threatening scamper across six lanes of interstate 666.  Miss Gruntsky is in short heels.

7:36 PM – Once they are seated, Binko uses napkins to stem the bleeding in Miss Gruntsky’s foot.

7:43 PM -   Binko admits he has no job except his band, “Fecal Stain.”  Boasts they have three Bar Mitzvahs booked for next month.  The look of disgust on Miss Gruntsky’s face appears permanent.

7:45 PM- Miss Gruntsky recovers after Binko reveals his mother’s credit card. 

7:49 PM – Miss Gruntsky orders a one pound unicorn steak cooked medium well with a side of scrambled dodo eggs.

7:50 PM – Binko orders a gourmet hot dog. 

“It sounds fancy.” Binko quipped.

8:11 PM – Binko is disappointed.

8: 32 PM – Miss Gruntsky attempts to rub away her headache after Binko begins humming his band’s most popular song.  Binko admits he messed it up and starts over and over and over. 

“Humming can be hard for a musician if you don’t practice much.”  Binko admits.  

8:46 PM – Miss Gruntsky asks for a taxi.  She tells Binko she needs to wash her hair.

8:46 ½ PM – Binko asks if she could wash his too.

8:55 PM – Miss Gruntsky considers fleeing but cannot with her mangled feet.

9:00 PM- Miss Guntsky offers Binko a half hour in the howler monkey environment if he takes her home.  Apparently, Miss Gruntsky has the necessary connections at the zoo. 

Binko considers it then agrees and calls a taxi.  The name of their title track he tried to hum is called “Monkey Poo.”  Binko sees endless promotional uses if he can collect genuine primate dung.    

“The monkeys will be taken out of course.  We’ll be cleaning the habitat.”  Miss Gruntsky admits. 

“We’ll have the tranquilizer guns ready anyway.”

From the desk of Norm dePlume,
Definitive Vote – Choke vs. Dripsi Taste Test (Greg’s Grocery Store, produce aisle, 1984)
Reluctant Participant – Square the Earth (A grassroots’ movement to curb wasteful overuse of toilet paper encouraging everyone to use only one square per wipe.)

Dear Colleagues,

Although not well researched, observational evidence suggests a distinct lack of important social traits in the college male between the ages of nineteen and twenty-four.  This developmental period we have designated the “larval” stage in the male progression to a life as a fully functional adult.  Evidenced behaviors include, poor judgment, lack of taste in hair / clothes, and pursuits that only depreciate in value (cars, video games, music, everything below a female’s neck).

My team is attempting to better understand this lapse in the spectrum of psychology.  We have wired a dorm room to collect data on two ideal subjects.  One specimen is affectionately named Binko the other (for lack of a better name) Zits.  Binko is short, with long hair and enjoys music.  Zits is tall, plays video games for hours, and maintains severe acne.

We have seen and recorded a wealth of behaviors except for courting of the free range, American female.  After combing the universities’ entire student body, we found only one narrow subset of females that would agree to date either Binko or Zits.  Lady graduate students that have spent the last six months studying lowland gorillas in their natural habitat seemed amendable to Binko and Zits but only after a substantial stipend was offered. 

The first female (Sally Gruntsky) who agreed to date one of our specimens chose Binko over Zits.  During the pre date interview, Sally admitted she chose the photo of Binko over Zits because, “I’m a big fan of fantasy books.  Anyway, Binko looked a little like a dwarf and dwarves are always funny.  Besides, he also looks over eager to please.  I’ve got a bet with my BFF that after dinner I can get him to stop by the mall and buy me a gold bracelet.” 

My grad assistant then recorded her demanding her stipend up front.  This was in direct contradiction to the signed contract.

The second female (Linda Flemsburg) was assigned Zits.  Her reaction seemed counter productive.  “I sell an entire line of skin care products for guys that are specific to each area of the body.  Bottom Butter is good for stunting hair growth on your hindquarters.  Let’s see, Coconut Chest adds shape and volume to pectorals that are sagging a bit.  Does Zits have any money?”

We detail each date and their findings in this journal’s next edition.

Regards,  Norm DePlume