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Friends of
The Brain |
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Week 40: A Hidden
Passion Revealed
Los Angeles, CA/Richmond,
IN
May 2
8:32 AM : Highway
to Hell
I
can hardly navigate through the fog; it's
so thick this morning I am having a hard time
seeing anything beyond the beams of my headlights.
Thank God for Ralph Macchio's eggshell blue LeCar,
which I am presently following as close as I possibly
can. We are on our way to LAX, and I am still
not sure why. Is it time for his yearly "R&R"
on Porthole Island already?
I wonder...
Macchio and I rose early this morning, he in his
bungalow snuggled in the Pacific Palisades, me
in a pile of leaves and debris I strategically arranged
in his backyard which afford me a good view of his
breakfast nook. While watching him eat his Fruity
Pebbles I noticed airline tickets and a map of
Indiana on the credenza. Indiana? The last time
he was in Indiana was to film one of his guest
spots for "Eight is Enough". I can't image what
kind of hi jinx will ensue when he departs (with
me close behind, of course)...
10:34 AM: Hi
jinx
Thank God for standby.
I have managed to get a seat on Flight 209 to
Richmond. Why the fuck are we going to Richmond?
I am scared, but I have been scared before. The
time he decided to participate in the running
of the bulls, for example, in Kentucky. I was
very scared then. What we didn't know was that
instead of actually running bulls in Ky, they
unleash a large sex-crazed mob of male long-term incarcerated
criminals. That was definitely not
the best day for the Macch to choose as his annual
"dress-up-like-PonyBoy-day". What about that
time at The Waffle House? Shit, lets just
say that Billy Ray Cyrus has a lot of
fans in Alabama, and none of them appreciated
Ralph Macchio defacing a cardboard cutout
of him using a couple of link sausages and
a lot of whipped cream. Or the
time he performed brain surgery on an injured
cow and saved its life. Boy, that cow was really
lucky. Come to think of it, that was pretty fucked
up. Where the fuck was that? Damn...I've
got to lay off the NyQuil. Macchio has led me
on some crazy midwestern adventures; I am just
thankful he is not drinking.
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11:21 AM: Mimosas
and temporary paralysis
He started drinking
45 minutes ago. It wouldn't be so bad in first
class; unfortunately we are in coach. Two
factors are primarily responsible for Macchio's
midair arrest:
1. The entire flight was
rented out by the "Fiesta del Sol" vacation
tour package on their way to New York, and
is therefore 99% Mexican, and
2. The in-flight movie
is "The Karate Kid II", which Ralph feels
needs translating; unfortunately he knows
no Spanish and punctuates every sentence by screaming
"Nacho Taco, taco, you all smell...the
dishes need washing Paco, Fuck it!", or something
similar.
It takes 4 stewardess 25 minutes to incapacitate
him using a stun gun and roll of duct tape.
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1:16 PM: A Nightmarish
Vision in Hardee's (other than the Frisco Burger)
He is released on the bail his lawyer
wires him; I am happy as I did not relish the idea
of spending an afternoon alone in beautiful Richmond,
Indiana. I still have no idea why we are here; it
is only during lunch at Hardee's that I catch
a glimpse of a plaque above my booth that says:
"Richmond: Antiquing capitol of the U.S.A." As I
peek around the side of the booth I catch a quick
glimpse of Macchio staring wistfully at a small
shop across the street called "Out with the New,
In With the Old". I begin to feel nauseous; not
because of the grotesque way in which he chews his
onion rings, but due to the knowledge that I will
spend the rest of the day antiquing with Ralph Macchio.
I have not felt this way in a long time; the remainder
of my Fisherman's Fillet™ and Crispy Curls™ are discarded, uneaten. |
 | 4:47
PM: The Horror. The Horror.
It
has begun. We are now in our
eighth antique shop, all of which have been
within a four block radius. It is also getting
hard to remain incognito; most of these shops
consist of only one room. He seems
the most interested in the Depression-Era
glassware sets, but ONLY THE COMPLETE SETS,
which no one seems to have:
"We don't have a complete set sir, but how
about a nice set of Fireking cookware-"
"Didn't you hear me??! Don't you know who
I am? I don't want a set of Fireking cookware!!!"
"I'm sure we could intrest you in-"
"No! I've told you once, Andy Griffith, now
find me a complete set!"
"I'm sorry Mr. Baio, don't get mad, I just..."
This is usually where the screaming begins. |
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12:46
AM: The reason I can't count higher
than 6 or pronounce the word "Skippy"
I have managed to get
an adjoining room to Macchio in the Day's
Inn off of Rt. 9. Our balconies are fairly close;
I manage to make my way over to his using some
suction cups and dental floss. What I see there
will haunt me forever. Ralph, wearing only a diaper,
has completely covered himself in peanut butter
and is spinning around the room listening to "Total
Eclipse of the Heart" at full volume. The purchases
he has made today, which include a Havnail Vase,
Chippendale chair, Girabaldi crystal stem ware,
and a pressed glass candy dish, sit lined up perfectly
on the TV stand, next to a framed picture of Oscar
the Grouch. I get nervous as he slowly spins
closer and closer to the sliding-glass doors;
I try to remain motionless as he gingerly spreads
his asscheecks and offers me and the entire city
of Richmond a peanut-butter-and-ham sandwich.
The blackness spreads over me like a blanket;
I awaken cold and hungry the next morning; huddled
beneath a great Oak, whose massive trunk and arms
are the only thing that could possibly protect
me from that which I had seen the night before.
Next
Week: A Hero Aint Nuthin' But a Sandwich:
Macchio to the Rescue?
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