Patton Lee Beaugus | December 12, 2010 4:45pm
It looked like a Clydesdale. Only with big phony antlers and a fake red nose. Either it had very odd markings or it was wearing lipstick!
Suddenly, up in the sky. I saw something. It wasn't a bird! It wasn't a plane.
No, it was a big bird hauling a plane behind it! Huh?
I squinted. My eyes aren't what they used to be, and I hate glasses. And I have no depth perception which is good because it kept me out of the Vietnam. So I squinted.
No, wasn't a bird at all. It looked like it was a big flying horse pulling what looked like a big red '57 Caddy convertable. Jeez, my eyesight couldn't be that bad.
How drunk was I? In my mispent youth, and even my mispent middle age, I've had some memory lapses in the morning following an evening when I've been overserved by sadistic bartenders, but I'd never hallucinated before. At least not just drinking.
The PartyMob looked up. Suddenly they started whopping and breaking into applause.
The car radio must have been playing because there was music that wasn't from the bar. It was loud. It was hip-hop of some kind. It sounded like it was sung by an electric gerbil I guess it must have been gangsta rap, of which I am not an expert.
The flying whatever, which should at least have had the decency to have wings, kept circling in front of the caddy until the song was finished.
Then it landed in the backyard, sliding along the icy cobblestones, pulling the red Caddy behind it. A caddy full of bags of stuff.
If I wrote them a letter, this apparation looked like something for MythBusters to bust.
The horse looked like a Clydesdale. You know, like one of the huge beer wagon pulling horses. Only this horse had big phony antlers on. Like idiot tourist wearing a statue of liberty crown.
I looked at the others. Nobody else seemed amazed. Just happy! Make that ecstatic."
D'Oliya was jumping up and down like a little kid, and that made me join them in their ecstatic-asism.
The big clunky horse with no rider had just landed like a Cessna, and these uh, musicians, seemed to take it in stride.
“Clydie Deerest.” shouted Vinnie. "You great big beautiful doll."
“Clydie is formerly of the Clydesdales you saw on tv… in your former reality” said Molly, as she rushed over to give the horse some pets.
My former reality? Reality? Where in all this was there any freaking reality?
The gang quickly removed the harness from huge animal, so it was no longer attached to the Caddy.
The front seat and the back seat of the Caddy were piled high with lotsa stuff. Bizarre stuff.
The gang moved so fast and with such coordination, I thought it was like "call to stations" in some submarine movie, only without the klaxons, and nobody yelling, "Dive, dive."
"Are we back on schedule?" demanded HiTone as he pulled some bricky stuff out of the trunk.
"Close," answered Molly, as she grabbed a huge plasma screen monitor attached to an X-Box 360.
"We'll never make it in time," yelled Vinnie as they started setting up the stuff in the bar's backyard patio, like to some prearranged plan. It was like watching a flower blossoming at high speed on the Tulip Channel.
WTF!
Louie was schlepping a giant mirror. As he passed in front of me, I noticed my reflection wasn't what it was suppossed to be. My beard was red, like it used to be before I became an old balding grey-haired career boozer.
"Cute," yelled Molly and she hooked up her electronics. "Paddy, I need your Mac now."
Double WTF!
You could have knocked me over with a sip of Light Beer. It didn't make sense before. Now it made, I don't know, nothing I could make sense of.
Maybe I'd been transported to Fantasyland. I had thought the BuddaBings PartyMob had a kidnapped a blogging barfly, aka me. I thought we were in the backyard patio of a dive bar in Hell's Kitchen. But maybe not. Maybe it wasn't Christmas Eve. Maybe it was Groundhorse Day. Maybe I hadn't dropped a dozen years of intensive barstooling.
I now seemed to be in a place where a flying Clydesdales just popped in with red 57 caddies in tow. And that aforemention caddy was full of more stuff that a Lady Gaga tour truck, and was packed like Harpo Marx pockets in which there was no end to the stuff that you could get out of there. Now my companions were doing a Keystone Cops imitation and constructing some kind of something in what used to be Rudy's backyard, but wasn't anymore. Crikees!
Triple WTF!!!!!!!!
I squinted. My eyes aren't what they used to be, and I hate glasses. And I have no depth perception which is good because it kept me out of the Vietnam. So I squinted.
No, wasn't a bird at all. It looked like it was a big flying horse pulling what looked like a big red '57 Caddy convertable. Jeez, my eyesight couldn't be that bad.
How drunk was I? In my mispent youth, and even my mispent middle age, I've had some memory lapses in the morning following an evening when I've been overserved by sadistic bartenders, but I'd never hallucinated before. At least not just drinking.
The PartyMob looked up. Suddenly they started whopping and breaking into applause.
The car radio must have been playing because there was music that wasn't from the bar. It was loud. It was hip-hop of some kind. It sounded like it was sung by an electric gerbil I guess it must have been gangsta rap, of which I am not an expert.
The flying whatever, which should at least have had the decency to have wings, kept circling in front of the caddy until the song was finished.
This text will be replaced by the flash music player.
Then it landed in the backyard, sliding along the icy cobblestones, pulling the red Caddy behind it. A caddy full of bags of stuff.
If I wrote them a letter, this apparation looked like something for MythBusters to bust.
The horse looked like a Clydesdale. You know, like one of the huge beer wagon pulling horses. Only this horse had big phony antlers on. Like idiot tourist wearing a statue of liberty crown.
I looked at the others. Nobody else seemed amazed. Just happy! Make that ecstatic."
D'Oliya was jumping up and down like a little kid, and that made me join them in their ecstatic-asism.
The big clunky horse with no rider had just landed like a Cessna, and these uh, musicians, seemed to take it in stride.“Clydie Deerest.” shouted Vinnie. "You great big beautiful doll."
“Clydie is formerly of the Clydesdales you saw on tv… in your former reality” said Molly, as she rushed over to give the horse some pets.
My former reality? Reality? Where in all this was there any freaking reality?
The gang quickly removed the harness from huge animal, so it was no longer attached to the Caddy.
The front seat and the back seat of the Caddy were piled high with lotsa stuff. Bizarre stuff.
The gang moved so fast and with such coordination, I thought it was like "call to stations" in some submarine movie, only without the klaxons, and nobody yelling, "Dive, dive."
"Are we back on schedule?" demanded HiTone as he pulled some bricky stuff out of the trunk.
"Close," answered Molly, as she grabbed a huge plasma screen monitor attached to an X-Box 360.
"We'll never make it in time," yelled Vinnie as they started setting up the stuff in the bar's backyard patio, like to some prearranged plan. It was like watching a flower blossoming at high speed on the Tulip Channel.
WTF!
Louie was schlepping a giant mirror. As he passed in front of me, I noticed my reflection wasn't what it was suppossed to be. My beard was red, like it used to be before I became an old balding grey-haired career boozer.
"Cute," yelled Molly and she hooked up her electronics. "Paddy, I need your Mac now."
Double WTF!
You could have knocked me over with a sip of Light Beer. It didn't make sense before. Now it made, I don't know, nothing I could make sense of.
Maybe I'd been transported to Fantasyland. I had thought the BuddaBings PartyMob had a kidnapped a blogging barfly, aka me. I thought we were in the backyard patio of a dive bar in Hell's Kitchen. But maybe not. Maybe it wasn't Christmas Eve. Maybe it was Groundhorse Day. Maybe I hadn't dropped a dozen years of intensive barstooling.
I now seemed to be in a place where a flying Clydesdales just popped in with red 57 caddies in tow. And that aforemention caddy was full of more stuff that a Lady Gaga tour truck, and was packed like Harpo Marx pockets in which there was no end to the stuff that you could get out of there. Now my companions were doing a Keystone Cops imitation and constructing some kind of something in what used to be Rudy's backyard, but wasn't anymore. Crikees!
Triple WTF!!!!!!!!
