It's difficult to get started with these. I'm OK once the ball has started rolling, but occasionally the ball is a cube, bolted to the floor. So I'll use a bit of outside help for this one.
I will now write a short comedy sketch or idea based on some randomly generated Wikipedia entries. I won't pick and choose, I'll write a sketch for each. No cheating.
Let's roll the cyberdice...
Our first entry is:
Georgia State Route 247
Hmm...
Wizened Hick: Ah was drahvin' dahwn Rowte Twenny-Foh Siven, d'otha dai.
Son of Hick: Why are talking like that, Pa?
Wizened Hick: Yew knowe ah hayd a streoke, boi!
Son of Hick: I know, I know. Pa?
Wizened Hick: Wooaht ees it, suhn?
Son of Hick: Does it strike you as a touch ironic that Route 247, rather than being open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, is in fact only open for 1 hour a day, 1 day a week?
Wizened Hick: Eet shuore doo, boi.
Son of Hick: Obviously, the expression "24/7" is relatively new, and it doesn't hold sway over all things numbered two-forty-seven. But it's weird that this is the only route in the state, and one of the only roads in the world, that has such fixed opening hours.
Wizened Hick: Git bahk ta cawledje, Pwoindextah!
Son of Hick: I'll be back to visit again tomorrow, Pa. Just try and get some rest, OK?
[HE LEAVES]
Wizened Hick: Good heavens! This façade is quite the draining enterprise! And I must keep it up until Michaelmas...
***
Well, that was interesting.
Once again, let's spin the Wheel of Mild Disappointment!
Our second entry is:
Part 91 operator
*facepalm* The gods are not being kind today...
Pilot: The Goddamn FAA had better get outta my ass before I stick my finger up there and poke 'em in the eye!
Mechanic: Uh...
Pilot: Here I am, trying to fly a small non-commercial aircraft, and they're throwing all this Part 91 operator bullshit right in my lap, and expecting me to swallow it hook, line and caboodle!
Mechanic: Oh. What's a Part... 91... Oper..
Pilot: I don't know! I looked it up on Wikipedia, and the article is unclear, and almost completely devoid of information! That Goddamn Headscissors Blog is more deserving of a Wikipedia entry than this stupid legislation!
Mechanic: Sam, I...
Pilot: I ought to tear those sumbitches a new you-know-what-hole! Ass!
Mechanic: Sam, please!
Pilot: Goddamn it, what is it?!
Mechanic: Sam. I'm pregnant.
Pilot: ...
Mechanic: The baby's yours, Sam.
Pilot: Oh. But...
Mechanic: But what?
Pilot: But we're both women!
Mechanic: Oh. Yeah.
[I just blew your gender assumptions right out the window! Not so sexist now, am I ladies?!]
***
I've been unlucky so far - let's see if we get something a little more interesting. Let's play the Lottery of Pain!
Our third entry is:
Brønnøysund Bridge
I remember '79. A crazy year. The British got Thatcher. We got Brønnøysund Bridge.
Me and the guys would drive over it every Saturday. We weren't going for the nightlife! We sure as heck weren't going for the Torget Island food!
We were going for Torghatten.
You can see it from far away, of course. It looks like something from an Wile E Coyote cartoon! But only up close can you see the magic. A huge, natural tunnel runs right through the mountain. It's something to see.
We were always told the story of Torghatten. Everyone thought it was cool! And stupid. Stupid and cool. Hestmannen the troll, chasing a girl, trying to shoot her with an arrow, until the troll-king of Sømna stepped in. He threw his hat on the arrow. The hat became a mountain. The arrow hole became the tunnel.
No one believes, it of course. Not exactly.
The girl... the girl who was being chased was called Lekamøya.
I loved her.
It was also the name of a girl in my class. I chased her all through my childhood. But she never let me get close enough. And I was too scared to shoot an arrow. No mountains were created for me!
But I liked to go to Torghatten anyway. It's a testament to the power of love. The power of lost love.
Years later, Lekamøya (the real Lekamøya) was living in Namsos. On May 6th, 1988, her husband died in a plane crash. You may have read about it in the news. The plane crashed in fog. It crashed right into Torghatten.
The troll-king of Sømna couldn't step in this time. And the tunnel - the hole - wasn't big enough to let everyone through.
A year later, Lekamøya and I were married.
It had taken centuries, but the arrow reached its target.
I don't go to Torghatten anymore. But sometimes, in the fog, I imagine I can see a tunnel, letting the sunlight through.
***
Right, that's probably it. That one wasn't so funny...
I think this experiment was a success! Maybe I'll do it again sometime, when I'm trying to shake the iron inspiration-cube from its moorings.
No comments:
Post a Comment