the Bucky Four-Eyes Cotillion

Thursday, March 01, 2007

Three-ring lunch

The tale you are about to read is completely true, except for the parts I blatantly fabricated.

For the entire time I lived in Illinois, Circus Kelli and I had been talking about getting together for lunch sometime, but we hadn't actually done anything about it. Finally, on my last Friday in Illinois, we made plans to meet during her lunch hour. I'd picked the classiest joint the uppercrust had to offer - of course, I mean a Long John Silvers/Taco Bell combination restaurant. Diarrhea on a checkered platter. Well, to be more accurate, diarrhea from a checkered platter. In either case, ain't no better way to get your diarrhea, folks.

Now, you know what people always say about meeting someone you know from the Internet. All that talk of pervert and deviant and serial killer...yes, I'm sure all those things are being said about me. But I'm only copping to the first one. It was with a great sense of trust that I met Kelli in person, because how harmful could someone be when she drives the Blameless Mommy Van? She certainly looked angelic enough:


Circus Kelli



We had a great time at lunch, being stupid and laughing a lot. But then, after my third shrimp and a quarter of the way into my second slab o' fish, I could sense that something was slightly off. The whole room seemed to tilt and the walls began to breathe, each wall with its own plastery set of lungs. The napkin holders were too busy throwing dice to give a rat's ass, and I had the uneasy feeling that the ketchup dispenser was planning a mutiny, against what is still unclear, but its sense of malevolent discontent cut through the greasy air like a frisbee through whipped poop. About the time I thought to comment on how very odd that was, everything went dark, and I remember wondering who the hell turned off the lights.

When my eyes fluttered open again, I realized that I was in the back of a van with my wrists duct taped so as to extend my arms straight out on either side. There was this noise I kept hearing...ssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhp-click-ssssssssshhhhhhhhp-click...what the fuck?

My head was murky as week-old piss, but it finally dawned on me that Kelli was measuring me.

"Are you measuring me for a coffin?" I asked in a groggy voice that was much calmer than I felt at the moment.

She looked up sharply, obviously not expecting my consciousness quite so soon, and then she burst out in laughter that was rather serial killerish, in my opinion. "So, just because you met me on the Internet and I drive a van, I must be a demented murderer? Is that it?"

"Well, that and the fact that you drugged me and now have me taped up in the back of that very van," I countered as she continued to measure me. "You mind telling me what this is for, then, if it's not for a coffin? Trash bag, maybe? Oriental rug?"

"It's for your costume, " she offered, not looking up from her work.

"My costume? What kind of weird fucker are you?" I tried to pull free of the duct tape but I was still too weak to put forth any kind of tangible effort.

"You fool!" she hissed, letting the tape slam back into the receptacle. "It's the Circus! The Circus needs new blood!"

"Damn, now you want my blood?" Can't say I was too fond of that option, either.

"It's just an expression," she explained patiently, in the kind of voice people normally save for conversations with the severely retarded. "The Circus needs some different performers. We can only trot out Sweet Pea's symphony of farts so many times a night before she needs a nap. And then a burrito. So I've made it my mission to hunt down some new faces that we can put to work."

Oh, no! I was being sold into clown-white slavery! Stalling for time as I formulated a plan, I asked, "So, what is this costume you're fitting me for?"

Kelli smiled in a cheerfully demented way. "Think Penelope Pitstop, climbing out of a very, very tiny car."

"Noooooooooo!" I shrieked like Vader when Padme died. "You can't put me in that much hot pink all at once! It's against the Geneva Convention."

She laughed killerishly again and said, "If you don't like that costume, your other option is that we put you in your chaps, paint a bullseye on each of your ample ass cheeks, and invite members of the audience to throw cactus plants at you."

A mere mortal might have begun to make amends with the Powers That Be at this point. I never got to consider that option, because at that moment, a faint buzzing sound could be heard, an odd sound, like muffled, synthesized flatulence.

"What the hell is that?" Kelli demanded as I began to chuckle. "Are you farting in my van? I just had these seats cleaned, you know!"

Now it was my turn to laugh. The giggle was on the other foot. "Did you really think I'd come to this meeting unprepared, Ringmaster? That I wouldn't have a backup plan?"

"The only backing up you'll be doing is into an elephant's tusk," she snarled, but I could tell I'd put her off balance.

"Homing device," I told her, then elaborated, mostly to hear the sound of my own voice. "I have customized butt plugs, you see, and I maintain a prespecified amount of pressure on my buttplug at all times. Oh, yes - my sphincter is a thing of wonder, like a trained sand worm. So when you drugged me into unconsciousness, and my talented sphincter let slip its magical grip, the trusty butt plug automatically sent an SOS and coordinates to my personal rescue crew, the Eaton Posse. They'll be here shortly, Ringmaster. Best for you to just let me go now."

Kelli was fuming by then, trying to decide whether or not I was bluffing. I was getting warmed up to my own speechifying, so I continued on, "Tell me something - how can you, in good conscience, kidnap Circus slaves in this vehicle and still call it the Blameless Mommy Van?"

She abruptly stopped fuming, whipped out a utility knife, and deftly cut my wrists free of the duct tape. Then, before I could react, she flung open the rear doors of the van and shoved me out onto the ground.

"Oh, my god!" she exclaimed from her perch in the back of the van. "I can't have anyone as stupid as you in my Circus! You're untrainable."

I looked up at her, not comprehending. She threw her hands up in the air, exasperated, and yelled, "It's Flameless Mommy Van, you fucking retard. Flameless! Geeeeez!" With that, she slammed the doors, and a few seconds later, fired up the engine and nearly ran me over in her haste to exit. It was like she couldn't get away from my dumb fast enough, just in case it was contagious.

Sometimes being stupid pays off, because the whole posse thing was bullshit. The only magical qualities my butt plug has are the flashing lights and its ability to play Funkytown.



Unknown dork with Circus Kelli

23 of you felt the overwhelming need to say somethin':

Blogger JD's Rose said...

Again... you're not quite right!

xxx

12:26 AM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger Flying Mermaid said...

I beg to differ (and I know you like to see a bitch on her knees) -- you are ABSOLUTELY right!

3:33 AM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger Mr. Bloggerific Himself said...

Though I sat my coffee down when I read about the "homing device buttplug" so that I wouldn't spill should I giggle any more...aren't buttplugs HOME when they're, you know, IN?

Not that I personally would have any of my own experience.

Hope you're going ok up there.

6:35 AM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger Susie said...

Well. Ahem. When I first started reading, I had my comment ready, "No, honey, it's flameless," but I thought blameless worked, too, for the angelic CK.

"a thing of wonder, like a trained sand worm." ohlord.

mrB, I hear that some wander. From home. In fact, I think you can even get one that plays "I'm a Wanderer." I heard this from a friend.

7:53 AM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger here today, gone tomorrow said...

Gee, and CK looks so innocent...

8:41 AM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger Squirl said...

Thanks for the chuckle this morning. Well, really more like an LOL. Good thing I was working from home when I read this one.

9:14 AM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger Mickey said...

Just wait until you come to Portland and go to lunch with ME!

10:56 AM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger The Recovering Straight Girl said...

Okay,
That last comment, was me.
I was signed in under my daughter's name because the darn kid keeps using my computer.

11:04 AM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger limpy99 said...

Didn't the Eaton Posse run down the Apple Dumpling Gang in that old Disney movie?

11:36 AM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger LadyBug said...

I'm thinking that when Kelli was "fuming"...it was probably because of the fumes. Ack.

11:46 AM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger Von Krankipantzen said...

I am sorry. I just can't get past the auditory concept of Vader SHRIEKING!!

3:06 PM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger Platypus said...

Usually if I type ROFLMAO it's a slight exaggeration. It's really not after reading that. In fact, I may need some duct tape of my own just to keep the damned thing on...

4:08 PM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger Ortizzle said...

LOL. Blameless, Flameless, and apparently Gameless. You just need to let your mask down, girl!

4:44 PM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger Doug said...

Made my day this one did. With a bonus of a gorgeous picture of my dear Sis Kelli.

Cackle, snort, snurfle and haw haw hee hee heh choke.

7:42 PM, March 01, 2007  
Blogger Circus Kelli said...

Ooookkkkkk....

First off, I resent that Bucky just went and told the blogosphere what I'm really like in person. I mean, I try to run a respectable little circus blog, you know? It has taken me quite a long time to build up my "Mom/family/work" persona on the internet -- now she just goes and blows that all to smithereens.

Although, maybe I should thank her, really... it's a bit of a relief to be showing the real me at last. Do you know how difficult it is to maintain the "goody two shoes Mom" facade day in and day out? It's exhausting. Finally! I can breathe a bit!

It's true, folks, the whole thing -- it's all true.

Well, except for the part where I called her a fucking retard. That's the part Bucky blatantly fabricated.

Now listen... if you happen to be in Northern Illinois around lunch time, still, give me a call. I swear I won't do this to you. Really. I mean, look at that face. I ask you, is that the face of a psychopath...?

10:54 AM, March 02, 2007  
Blogger Nilbo said...

I dunno. It's so hard to tell if it's the face of a psychopath. We need more of a close-up.

I'm glad that Kelli's Circus was exposed for what it is: a perverse and deviant entertainment that lures an unsuspecting, innocent internet into its web of sin.

Now, how can I join?

12:00 PM, March 02, 2007  
Blogger Bone Machine said...

I knew that some kind of fuckered up cult would start from this encounter. I'm taking notes for the day when I start my own shit.

12:46 PM, March 02, 2007  
Blogger hellokittn said...

When it comes to be the right time, just let me know Bone. Your band of four-assed brazilian monkeys and lesbian tripod geckos will be ready.

What do you want me to do with this jello pit? Certainly this will eventually go bad, won't it?

2:07 PM, March 02, 2007  
Blogger It's Me, Maven... said...

I love how you craft a sentence. Love it, ya hear?

Here are the lined that literally had me cackling, out loud, piercing-like, whilst sitting in my cubicle like the good little "human veal" I am:

1. [...]but its sense of malevolent discontent cut through the greasy air like a frisbee through whipped poop.

2. I was being sold into clown-white slavery!

3. "I have customized butt plugs [...] Oh, yes - my sphincter is a thing of wonder, like a trained sand worm. [...]my sphincter let slip its magical grip, the trusty butt plug automatically sent an SOS and coordinates to my personal rescue crew, the Eaton Posse."

4. The only magical qualities my butt plug has are the flashing lights and its ability to play Funkytown.

PRICELESS!!!

5:02 PM, March 02, 2007  
Blogger Lynn said...

A masterpiece, Bucky.

3:04 AM, March 03, 2007  
Blogger Bone Machine said...

I figure "cult leader" will look snazzy on a resume. Duties include mixing Kool Aid, ironing the purple shrouds, etc.

4:48 PM, March 03, 2007  
Blogger eclectic said...

If anyone could make CK appear suspicious, it would be you, my dear. Well done! Except, I'm not buying it. I mean, I believe the butt plug and sphincter bit, and the Long John Silvers locale, and I do believe that is our lovely CK in the photos, but the part where you bring the mommy-van into it? Nah, she's much too smart for that. She'd have been in an unmarked rental van, so I know you're hiding something here. I shan't sleep till I get to the bottom... uh... er... maybe I should just stop now.

1:27 AM, March 04, 2007  
Blogger Random and Odd said...

Fuh-reak.

What stories will you tell after we meet!?

5:15 PM, May 14, 2008  

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