Stew Miller Musings and Rants
I Complain (Oh, and Doodle), You Read and/or Comment, Everyone is Happy… IT’S SO SIMPLE!

“A Baby Seal Walks Into A Club…”

**THE FOLLOWING EVENTS ARE, MORE OR LESS, TOTALLY INACCURATE AND FULL OF LIES AND FALSEHOODS. IF ANY SIMILARITIES EXIST BETWEEN THESE CHARACTERS AND ANY HUMAN ALIVE OR DEAD, THAT’S PRETTY COOL SINCE I TOTALLY JUST MADE THEM UP LIKE, SIXTEEN MINUTES AGO. ALSO, THIS IS A HIGHLY ELABORATE JOKE THAT MY DAD (HAPPY?) TOLD ME, SO JUST GET OVER IT.**

Dave decided he needed a vacation. His life really sucked. His wife (though not sucking, per se) was a demonic harpy, and his boss was the continent’s biggest ass, large enough, he assumed, to actually be visible from space. Dave was desperate and needed to get away as soon as possible. However, it wouldn’t, unfortunately, be quite that simple. What he really needed was an acutely elaborate scheme covering all of his bases in order to disappear with no worries. Dave was a pretty decent liar; he had been avoiding sex with his wife for years telling her, with all confidence, that he’d lost his penis in a horrible rake incident. This wasn’t going to be too much trouble, at least from this side of his life. The other side, the WORK side, may turn out to be slightly more difficult.

Dave lay awake next to his damnable shrew of a spouse wringing his hands attempting to devise some sort of a plan to tell his boss in the morning. He’d thought of calling with a terminal illness, but figured it was no good since he’d have to return sometime and leprosy, as far as he knew, left some nasty scarring. He’d contemplated telling his boss that his wife had been involved in a drive-by shooting, but this, too, was a dead end since everyone knew Dave’s wife was a hell-spawned devil and it would take more than mere bullets to stop her. So, finally, as the clock blipped from 2:28 to 2:29, Dave concluded that his best course of action was to tell his boss that he had to leave town since his mother was fading fast from the Bird Flu. This sounded best since he could, in turn, tell his wife (that accursed banshee) that he need to go out of town on a business trip. Dave guessed she’d buy it since she pretty much assumed he was always distant and lost all of the time anyway.

Dave left his boss’ office the following morning with a sizable grin plastered across his face. Dave had fine-tuned his fib quite nicely on the way in, and, after telling the boss that his sister was in grave peril with a week to live (she was confined to a hospital bed, she was on life support… some wonderful acting on the whole) he had felt that his mission was accomplished. He was, however, unsure if he’d actually mentioned just what it was that his sister was dying from… well, no matter, his boss bought every word and even, for a split second, looked slightly concerned. Now, with phase one out of the way, Dave needed to go home and let his crippling beast of a wife know that he had to travel, far away, on a very important business trip.

Dave sat back in his aisle seat in business class on the American flight to the Bahamas, and sighed so deeply onlookers glanced at him concernedly. He was finally happy. He was finally able to stretch out, relax, let the build-up of twelve years of purgatory flow from him like waves of heat. As for his wife, the blood-sucking concubine, he left her a note on the kitchen table reading, “Emergency business trip… very SECRET! I am with my boss, he is NOT at the office, either. See you in a week. D- ” and stuck it under the sugar bowl so it wouldn’t blow away. It mattered so little to Dave that he didn’t physically talk to or call his wife (leech) before he left, that he immediately began to doze off and forgot all about it.

A few hours later, Dave was jolted awake by a pretty nauseating bump. He had, it appeared, slept the entire flight, and he, it also appeared, had drooled all over his right shoulder, the corner of the seat, and onto the floor. Oh well, it wasn’t like he was going on vacation with anyone on this flight. As far as he knew. The airline came to a stop after its monotonous taxiing, and the passengers were aloud to gather their on-board items and exit. The flight attendant waved at Dave and bid him a fond visit so completely robotic, her look of disdain and annoyance was well hidden by her practiced routine. Dave grinned, still a bit sleepily, and lugged his mid-sized, liquid-free, carry-on bag down the stairs and into the air conditioned tunnel.

Dave plopped his luggage on the hotel bed, stretched contentedly, released a trumpeting fart he’d been painfully containing for hours now, and contemplated his itinerary for the first day. The hotel concierge had given him a stack of brochures with exciting events and destinations ranging from para-sailing to scuba diving, each of which sounded like not only more total fun than he’d ever had in the twelve years he’d been chained to his lecherous black widow of a wife, but also like more extreme excitement than he could bare right now. Dave decided, just after he’d get done with a visit to the toilet, that he just wanted to walk around, take in the new atmosphere, and have a bite.

Nassau was really something else; random Bahamians wandering around looking to braid anyone’s hair with colorful beads, shops and stalls of every conceivable style offering goods and trinkets in every imaginable type. It was a bustling city to say the least, and it all made Dave just a wee bit sick to his stomach. The noise, the yelling crowds, the heat, the fact that his last meal was a S’Mores Pop Tart he’d inhaled while he’d written his wife (wretch) the note. Dave was hungry. He found a stand offering some kind of conch roll, which he assumed was a sea food of a sort, and a soda. It was fine, a little chewy, and he swore he found a hair, but it solved the hunger issue… and then he saw the billboard. Evidently there was a parade in town tonight featuring all the standard fare… even elephants, a big deal here on the Bahamas. Dave was a sucker for parades; holiday parades, the Rose parade, just aimlessly marching people with instruments, for that matter. This was going to be a hoot. He tossed the rest of the sandwich that was now beginning to taste like crap into the trash and went to find where tickets were sold.

As it turned out, the ticket booth was in an enormous tent just down the street where all of the parade people and floats were housed. Dave walked in and immediately knew that the elephants were in here too, as he caught a whiff of poo in the air. Dave nearly leaped out of his skin when, just to his left hidden behind a big trailer, an elephant let loose a trumpet that billowed the canvass curtains around them. Dave laughed and cautiously, curiously, snuck behind the trailer to get a better look. Dave liked elephants too, had since he was a kid and his mom made him a costume so elaborate for Halloween that he’d won a silver dollar for it. This particular pachyderm was huge. It stood, proud but emasculated, foot-cuffed to a heavy peg jammed into the dirt floor. The odd thing was that, though a strong beast by nature and generally not one to moan about a little pain, the elephant was visibly sore since it had a two-inch sliver of wood jutting out from its front left foot. The elephant held his fool aloft, not wanting to put pressure on the tender area where the irritation was. Dave could see it in his eyes; he was sad, in a bit of agony, and without anyone to help him. So, doing what any exceptionally stupid person would do, Dave slowly walked over to the towering beast speaking words of calmness (as though the lumbering giant would understand), caressed his massive foot, and gingerly plucked the thorn from the pad. The elephant audibly sighed in relief, put his foot back on the floor, and, Dave swore to this, nodded a thanks.

Dave loved the parade. He watched especially intently for his elephant friend, and when he saw him, waved furiously like a trained monkey about to be fed and said, “Hi, Footy! (he’d named him Footy, you see) It’s me Dave! Footy! Over here!” Footy ignored him, much to Dave’s sorrow, and went on parading through the city. Dave left for the hotel satisfied and very tired.

The week flew by, but was still enjoyable and very memorable to say the least. Of all the things he’d ended up trying, the one thing that stuck in Dave’s mind was the first day with the elephant: Footy. He sat in roughly the same seat he’d arrived in, and waited for the plane to take off so he could go home to his monster of a wife. He never did talk to the whole time.

Several weeks had passed since Dave had returned to his rotten, pointless existence back home. His wife (gorgon) was never the wiser, and his boss remained just as ignorant. Dave was on his lunch break wandering through the park across from his office building just adjacent to the city zoo. The smell always floored him just after he’d eaten, but today, for some odd reason, it brought a flood of memories back from his trip to the Bahamas. He couldn’t help himself as he hurried around the gate into the zoo’s entrance. A sign was posted above the New Arrivals placard that read: Elephant. Dave knew this was the hand of fate guiding him, he knew that, as coincidence and irony some times collide into deja vu, odd occurrences appear that no one can rightly explain. He jogged a little to the new elephant cage and there, on the inside, contentedly munching on hay, was Footy, no doubt about it. Dave announced himself by name, knowing he’d read somewhere that elephants never forget, and called Footy by the nickname he’d given him so many weeks ago, “Footy! It’s Dave! Remember me? I pulled that thorn out!” Fortunately for Dave, nobody was in the park at the moment so he looked like an ass to only Footy, and himself. Dave, not thinking clearly as was par for the course, climbed and vaulted over the fence and into the dug out enclosure. He ran to the elephant wanting to pat him and enjoy him once more. But in a flurry of movement (elephants can be fast, you know) the perturbed pachyderm snatched Dave from his gleeful jaunt, and beat him do death on the ground below with just the sheer power of his trunk.

Moral: The elephant probably doesn’t remember you. Pass it on kids, words to live by.

Stew

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3 Responses to ““A Baby Seal Walks Into A Club…””

  1. Can you say plagiarism ?

    Dad

  2. The truth shall set you free!

  3. best sweepstakes…

    […]“A Baby Seal Walks Into A Club…” « Stew Miller Musings and Rants[…]…


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