"...so here's what I'm thinking, okay? You, me and the Harley Dog jump in the Kidding, haul ass to KrylonA42, do the dedication gig, jump back onboard and head over to Lowawatha and catch the LamaBall finals. It shouldn't take more than a day to get there from KA42, puts us there on 5698.32, a whole day early almost, whatta' say, how's that sound?...cool...ARE YOU READY FOR SOME LAMABAAAAALL?!?...cool...okay, do me favor, I gotta' take HD outside, get the guys to start working on the Kidding, all right?...thanks...yeah...hey, tell them I said to make sure they stock the kitchen and ESPECIALLY the 'fridge the RIGHT way...they'll know what I mean, believe me...okay, call me later, yeah...yeah."
Way cool.
As the Pope Guy of the All John All The Time World Church, I get invited to all kinds of ceremonies and conferences and various spiritual get-togethers all over the Galaxy, things like the coronation of new heads of state, or the installation of Bishops and Gerborks (that's what they call "bishops" on Hercyon III), or symposiums of "religious" leaders, an occasional shopping center opening, you know, stuff like that. So when my staff informed me that I had been asked to attend the dedication of the new cathedral on KrylonA42, I instructed them to respond that Harley Dog and I would be delighted to attend.
(To those of you who are new to the "soothing balm of Johnism", I should tell you that "Harley", who I mentioned back a sentence ago (seems longer than that, doesn't it?) is the Harley Dog, the backup navigator onboard my atomic powered rocket ship, the Royal Unionship Kidding, which we call the RU Kidding for short, just a little "outer space" humor there, as well as being my sidekick and roommate. There's a picture of him to the right, I believe, yeah, right there --->.)
When the staff folks told me about the dedication, I didn't really pay any attention to the date, until a few days ago, when I was going through The Papal Appointment Book and I noticed that the ceremony was scheduled for 5610.00, and, just a parsec or two away from KrylonA42, where the dedication was taking place, was Lowawatha, where the LamaBall Finals were scheduled to begin 5910.00, just three days later. I backtracked and read the entry again...yep, 5610.00 on KA42, and then if I want, Pope on an atomic powered trampoline, quick jump to Lowawatha and the Finals.
The LamaBall Finals, which this year include MY team, the Terran Terminators, is the Galactic championship of the InterGalactic LamaBall Conference, which is headquartered on Lowawatha and is the official league and governing body for the sport of LamaBall.
(LamaBall is a hybrid sport, a combination of gerbil golf and polo, except that instead of hitting gerbils off a second floor balcony, as in normal gerbil golf, in LamaBall, which is played on a large field, two teams of riders mounted on Earth lamas, wielding large "bats" rather than various-length clubs, as in gerbil golf, attempt to strike the gerbils as they run alongside them, thus moving them downfield, as in polo, except that, to score a "goal", the gerbil has to be "putted" into a funnel-shaped hole in the ground, while the defenders attempt to stop the shot. Its an exciting game, and very fast-paced, although I suspect the gerbils aren't all that crazy about it.)
So this is cool, me, Harley and Mike, who is my consigliore, off on the Kidding and on the ground at Lowawatha for the Finals. (By the way, Mike is the Right Reverend Monsignor Michael Jordan, and no, not the one that played for North Carolina; Mike has been my "connie" since I became the AJATTWC Pope Dude.)
We're "wheels up" at dawn tomorrow.
(...the following week...)
What a great trip; the dedication was boring but the reception afterwards was pretty good, especially those dancers from Anopheles, whoa, and the Finals were awesome, although the shithead 'Nators lost in the second round, the punks, but all in all, we had a lotta' fun. At least I did; Harley spent most of the trip trying to make a move on a Krillion ebert; I think Harley may need to have his eyes checked.
I ran into an old friend at the dedication ceremony, the Torgar of Resorcin, Mott the Hoople, Jr.; I hadn't seen Hoop since the Girl Scout cookie fiasco a few years ago. We were swapping BS about this and that, and after about an hour of non-stop gross guy stuff, he looked at me and said, hey, I've got a good one for you...
...according to Hoop, and he swears this really happened, one of his SubTorgars, Mandal of Ladnam, had recently gotten himself a new pet, a Kaoliang parrot. Now, if you've never seen a Kaoliang parrot, let me describe one to you: they're large birds, with a rounded beak unlike the hooked beak of an Earth parrot, about .5 meters long and weighing around three kilos. They're mainly orange, with a brilliant dark green "comb" across their foreheads and occasionally dark green and dark maroon stripes across the wings. They have two great claims to fame: they can be taught to talk, and they have no legs. They stay on a perch by wrapping their, umm, johnsons around whatever they're perching on.
So Mandal goes out and gets himself a really nice Kaoliang parrot, takes it home and installs it on it's own perch in a well-lit corner of his wife's and his bedroom. His wife wasn't crazy about the bird, but Mandal was so pleased that she went along with it. Besides, she had other things on her mind, as Mandal learned some time later.
As SubTorgar, Mandal was required to be out of town frequently, and he thought the parrot, whom he named Mortimer, after his older sister, (Mandal's, not Mort's) would be some company to his wife, who spent most of the time he was gone alone. The owner of the pet shop where Mandal had gotten Mortimer had already taught it to speak Quonset, the language used on Resorcin, so the parrot would be able to speak and hold conversations with the Mrs. in Mandal's periodic absences.
Sounds like a plan, right?
So Mandal goes off on Resorcinianian business, and is gone for several days. According to Hoop, when he returned home, he walked into the house and did the usual, Honey, I'm Home thing and got no answer. Thinking his wife may be out on an errand, he went into the kitchen, expecting to find a note, because his wife had known he would be home around this time.
No note.
In the meantime, he can hear Mortimer back in the bedroom, whistling to himself. Shit, the bird can talk and see, maybe he knows where the wife went. So Mandal walks back to the bedroom, says hello to Mort and asks, hey, seen the wife?
Mort immediately begins to get a little agitated. Hey, he says to Mandal, your wife took off outta' here about two days ago, with a young Martian-looking guy in a big Mercedes GroundCruiser. What?, Mandal says.
"Yeah, this Martian-looking guy showed up here a few nights ago, had himself a bottle of champagne in his hand and lechery on his mind, yes sir."
"Whatta' ya' mean, 'lechery on his mind'? What happened?" Mandal demanded.
"Well," says Mortimer the Kaoliang parrot, "they was sittin' out in the living room, 'course I couldn't see them from back here in the bedroom, but I could hear them laughing and cuttin' up, no problem. They were giggling like kids, and hittin' that champagne pretty hard from the sounds of it." The parrot paused to catch his breath; he was starting to get a little worked up.
"So then what happened?" Mandal asked, raising his voice a little; he was starting to get a little worked up himself.
"Oh, well, I'm sittin' here mindin' my own business, when these two lovebirds come chargin' in the bedroom, laughing to beat all and carryin' on. Funny thing, they were both about half-naked; he had his shirt off and your Mrs. was down to her bra, her panties and pantyhose. Man, was that somethin' to see." By now the parrot is bobbing up and down on his perch with excitement; it probably didn't feel too bad either.
"Yeah, yeah?" says Mandal, in a slightly hysterical voice.
"Well, next thing I know, these two are on the bed, he's tryin' to pull off what's left of her clothes, all the while she's trying like hell to get his pants undone and down, and they're still laughin' like hyenas, and about the time they both get almost naked, Holy Porn Star, Batman, wow." The parrot stopped talking, leaned over to his water container on the perch beside him and took a long drink, coming up for air once or twice before he finished.
By now Mandal is beside himself, which is a really tough position to maintain for any length of time, and is practically screaming at the bird to go on with his story.
"Man, you wouldn't believe," the parrot said, gulping down the last swallow of water. "It was amazing. They settled down some and started kissing and rubbing each other all over, and then your Mrs. got on top of the Martian-looking guy, I couldn't exactly see what she was doing, but she was grindin' away, and then suddenly the guy flipped your Mrs. on her back, starts rubbin' her all over, and he gets up real close to her and climbs up on her , crawlin' like on his hands and knees and then he takes hold of her panties and starts pullin' them down, and he gets them down and, oh my god...". Mortimer was so excited he couldn't continue.
"What, what happened?" Mandal screamed again, and he reached out, grabbed the parrot and started shaking him. "Tell me what happened?!?"
"I don't know," Mortimer the Kaoliang parrot screamed back, "I got a hard-on and fell off my perch!"
My friend Mott the Hoople, Jr. swears that's a true story.
Love and parakeets,
PJTT
copyright 2011 Krissongs, Inc.
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