Oh, Rob. My Isle of Wight buddy told me last week that his partner had to start taking the Hovercraft to the mainland to work because they'd raised the car ferry fare by double, and she didn't want to pay that. So naturally, I throw in the Python line of, "My Hovercraft is full of eels."
Which is only the funniest skit ever.
Yes, I STILL have the goddamn flu. I'm STILL running temperatures. I'm STILL sleeping most of the day, in spurts of 3-4 hours apiece. I leave music playing on my laptop whenever I go to sleep (force of habit). Sometimes the songs, if I'm semi-conscious, will intertwine their way into the dreams I'm having at the time. Sure as shit, when I woke up, Curtis Mayfield's "Pusherman" was playing on the computer.
I just woke up from elementary school teacher Richard Roundtree, as "Shaft," gun-wielding all of us kiddies onto a Hovercraft to go downtown and see Barack Obama perform in a musical. "Y'ALL GET YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN' ASSES GOING!" (Yes, I realize "Pusherman" is from "Superfly," but same genre.)
I have homework I should be doing and no Luke this weekend, and my mom is coming back from Canada today. What's worse? She wanted me to clean the bathroom today before her arrival home. Dude, it hurts to even walk up and down the stairs. I keep nodding off. If I don't have the strength and focus to go to school, how am I supposed to clean the bathroom? Can't we negotiate for something more reasonable, like Sunday? I just don't want to get smacked again, 'cause I'll whoop ass, aches or no aches.
"Yes, Mr. Shaft. We're boarding as quickly as possible. Please don't shoot us."
You're damn right.