Bill walked quickly but gingerly (as his head was
killing him) towards
the bathroom, his bladder ready
to explode from all the beer he'd drunk the
night. As he passed the bedroom mirror, a vague memory
of a drunken game
he and Bobby had been playing caused
him to stop and turn. He peered bleary-eyed at
unwashed and unshaven wreck in the mirror before him.
His bathrobe was hanging
open, exposing his huge
potbellied gut hanging out over his "ThoughtCafe"
shorts. Remembering the game, he reached down
with his hands, placed them on either
side of his
belly, manipulated his fingers just so, and viola! He
was staring at a
fleshy (and hairy) version of Milton
Berle's face! |
In his amazement,
he immediately forgot about his full
bladder, grabbed the cordless phone off the
stand and called his brother, Bobby.
"Hey Bobby! Guess what,
"Wha-aht..?" His brother replied groggily through the
sounding at least as bad as Bill had just a
"I did it,
man! Just like last night, dude! I made
really? Did 'ya try Bob Hope?"
"Nah... Hold on. Le'me
Bob placed the phone under his ear and turned back
mirror. After placing his hands back in
place, he carefully manipulated a glob of fat
fat-roll there, and, once again...
"Man, that's just amazing!
Looks just like him... In
the seventies variety shows, 'ya know? Not the
guy from the Bing Crosby road movies. Hey, have you
"Yeah," his brother responded enthusiastically. "While
doin' Hope, I did Nixon and Ford. This is a
cool thing we got here, Bro! We should,
like, go on
the road, dude; like, put on our own show, 'ya
"Yeah, COOL! Let's do it!! But, uh, well, we
shouldn't tell Ma about it, 'ya know?"
"Yep... Boy, would
*she* be mad!"
********** ********** **********
The audience could tell Bill was concentrating hard on
one... Beads of sweat were pouring off his
forehead, and down his sides from his hairy
His and Bobby's 'creations' had gotten increasingly
difficult as the
show progressed, each subtle
manipulation of hairy, gelatinous flab projected
a huge screen behind them on the stage. Still, though
they were working their
'craft' harder than they'd
ever done before, the applause from the audience
it all worth while. And Bill intended this last one to
be the best of
He continued moving his fingers this way and that, a
craftsman of fat manipulation. Each sweaty
digit pained him from the effort, and his
covered in fallen-out belly hair, but still he
continued. Minutes ticked
by, the audience waiting
expectantly, hardly daring to breathe.
then it was complete...
The audience leaped to their feet as one,
madly at the ten foot high projected visage of Hillary
and whistles erupted from he and
Bobby's adoring fans, roses were tossed up onto
stage, and there were shouts of "Bravo!" And
Just as Bill was preparing to let go of his
'masterpiece', the loud and unmistakably shrill voice
of their mother
yelled out from the back of the
********** ********** ********** **********
water splashed across his face, jolting him
awake, and he found himself face to face
mother. She had an empty water glass in her right
hand, and her face was
livid with anger.
"I said, Damn it, Billy!!! You were drinkin' with
good for nothin' brother again last night,
"Uh, er, why 'ya say that,
"'Cause you was too drunk to get 'yer lazy ass out a
bed and go
to the bathroom again! And this is the
THIRD TIME THIS WEEK you've peed the damn