Excess and Laughter

by jerrontables

And Timmer inquired: “Then please tell me sir–excuse me, sir–the proper etiquette for smultzing in the cabin’s boiler room.”

“You put it on your head!”

Excess and laughter.

Timmer’s face goes sour. Gets up. “You just right time. You just time, all of you. You’ll see! You’ll see old Timmer when the back door lies flat on ya skinknees. And the wholes all callin’ home ta fillin’ up yer daily karma starma with rancor rags at night. Spankerdoos. Scummo, skimmo, scumdub scrummo. Scrimma scumma yous.” He pointed his fingers with slight titilation, hip undulation, spook instigation. The witchcrafty move of ancient voodoo consternation.

“He turned us all to steam!”

Excess and laughter.

“I’m melting!”

Excess and laughter.

And Timmers, not quite yet ready to leave altogether, sat on the bench next to the beautiful lady statue and sulked into her stone-lace shoulder.

“Oh, Deliliah,” he said to himself and to her, “I’ve been cotton to an earthen tone, cuddle to a girly stone. Oh Delilah. My face is done with anguish and you are my only lonely throw-a-bone.”

Excess and laughter.

“Juhhhhhst look at em!”


And they took their liberties, each after the other in each their own turn. The peach of children spurned. Both adult and much unlearned. They put on their show:

Harry the Attorney honked his red-light horn the instant of green–Murp! Murp! “Go, you smelly schmucks! Two seconds to fecund me a hollllllla hatin’ rage!”


Jacob the Ballerina gave scolding looks to imaginary young mothers–“Oh if ever. If I EVER! If I ever, never would have my children for lack of PerFECtion in my VAGinal regionistic regions.”


Larry the Restaurant Manager scoffed at sexual impediment as moral character builder–“It was just last week that I saw three penises over on Southbury St and they were the most natural things in the world. The most natural things in the whole boy world. Let ’em do their deedas, for the love of Old Jack Pete! My two girlfriends are just dyin’  to meet each other’s middles–down below the cumberbund for three quarters and a half (moan to all the wonderfuls)!”


Monica the Local Government Desk Clerk held her nose up to her lessers, which was everyone that ever existed–“They smell like pump and dumper. Where is my cream filling?! These people want to breathe the air in my space and I just hates the life out of ’em. Just look at my shoes. Just feel on my hair. You should not this and that and your children should only be such as so lucky to be as my children enrolled in the toppest, tippest schools and for worn the hoppest, hippest shoes. Unhand this world from filth of dirty hamster people that drive the roads and poop my pippy potty tops.”


Marco the Mailer, Jillian the Dragon Slayer, and Jim Bob the Door Knobber beat their heads all against the wooden wall to chant the chant, “I am center. I more money. I am center. I more money. I am center. I more money.” And cetera.


Jerome the Penny Minter foul noised and smelled the room, declaring to everyone that there was no God, “How in the smokin’ biscuit oven can one hand be SUPREME RULER over definite and expanding cosmos (all exactly calculated and all expertly proven by humankind) and people that so scientifically solve the ever-in-betweens and the never-in-bedont’s?”


And Lilly the Boonacycler spent the most of her time pissing on shoes and screaming death of chastity–“My pissed all screamin’ alla ya! Chastity is dead!”


And when Timmer left the room their souls all turned to flesh.


And living hurt like bleeding hell.