You find yourself living in a shotgun shack, eating a slice of peach pie. “Now, where did I leave that shotgun?” you ask yourself. You stumble aimlessly through your tumble-down neighborhood looking for it, finally stopping outside a filthy laundromat. An unsavory-looking bard wanders out. He glances back inside the laundromat furtively. Just as quickly as he appeared, the bard darts down an alley and is gone.
You notice a dollop of peach juice on your brand new pants. Damn. And with that big ‘Jesuits For Biden’ truck rally coming up this weekend! You silently curse your bad luck. More pie sure would hit the spot.
Just then, the laundromat explodes in a torrent of suds and wet cotton scraps. The soapy debris cascades down around you, bothering several elderly lawn bowlers who curse at you in the most vile manner imaginable. You remember that bard who darted away, and suspect that just maybe he had something to do with it.
You jump to your feet and scramble after the nefarious traveling poet. Just as you reach the alley that he disappeared into, you catch a glimpse of him ducking into a door about halfway down. You rush to the door only to find it marked ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY.’ Well, that’s that. You certainly aren’t employed anywhere near here!
Your attempt at obtaining justice thus thwarted, you saunter casually back down the alley and over to the now-exploded laundromat. It makes you think back to your days in the Marines, when you used to bunk next to that kid from Ohio. His name, as it happened, was Matt Laundro.
Matt Laundro was never one to shy away from stating his opinions, no matter how ill-founded or off-kilter they may be. In fact, Matt often used to offend the taller members of the platoon by telling off-color jokes about former NBA star Manute Bol during routine lockerbox inspections.
Your eyes suddenly lose focus.
Ah, blessed sleep. You stretch out in the road as your vision becomes ever more cloudy. Soon you are transported to a wanton world of saucy strumpets and half-eaten crumpets. Your dreams become as confused as a bawdy Belgian brothel full of confused, concussed Confucians, what with all the running and whoring and philosophizing.
Eventually your thoughts become a bit less jumbled and you are able to identify at least some of the characters in your dream. Most of them seem to be stars of failed Fox sitcoms, although Cyndi Lauper plays a disturbingly prominent role as well.
Cyndi introduces you to Dabney Coleman, who in turn shaves your head with a straight razor. Just as he’s almost finished, the razor comes out of the closet and declares that he’s never been straight at all and has been living a lie for the past several years. Coleman exhibits a strange mixture of shock, hunger and sponginess that you haven’t seen since the heady days of Jefferson Airplane.
The razor ends up opening a catering concern on the east end of town. Dabney, Cyndi and you all land jobs at the company. And you always said you’d never work for a gay razor again!
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