The Violin Leave
Searching through the weeds for his lost kazoo, little Ben couldn't have anticipated the truly wonderful treasure he was about to find. It was definitely not any humdrum kazoo. With his eyes lit up and his trembling hands clutching the heavenly gift he ran the thirteen miles home without noticing his surroundings one bit. He didn't see the wasted nuclear plant smoking away. He didn't see the pack of ravenous hippos eyeing him dangerously. He didn't see the television lights.
"Mom! Mom!" Ben screamed as he neared the house.
His mother, straightening up from the rave party of the previous night, glanced in Ben's direction. "You better have a good explanation for your behavior, Bennito Gorgeous-Toeface Pennyrich. That young lady you were with is spread all over the lawn!"
"Come on, Mom. That's not important. Look at this!" Ben opened his cramped fingers, and like an ancient tomb unearthed, the contents spilled forth. Ben and his mother, voluptuous as she was, stared in ecstasy as row upon row of bejeweled ostriches marched out of a tiny cigar.
"Take us to your Leader!" the ostriches chimed in chorus. "Take us to your Leader!"
Ben couldn't believe his luck. Not only had he found The Legendary Lost Tribe of Billy, but he could do anything he wished with it. With his full-bosomed mother watching in shock, Ben leaned in and whispered slowly and carefully, "I am your leader."
File Under: True Crime
posted by Stephen "Steve" at 2/05/2005 11:56:00 AM
3 Comments:
I just thought I'd let you know I have read this story 5 times.
Posted by Jeanette
And you still don't get it, huh? Or do you? If so, please post your exegesis if you have time. I would think that only someone such as Freud and Friends would attempt it.
Posted by Steve
I do not claim nor do I aspire to be in the ranks of Freud and friends. I am merely waspish about the boy having a voluptuous mother with flamingos parading about. He should have just honked the kazoo.
Posted by Jeanette