My dears, the title link reveals our first picture for the rogues' gallery. Do not take a check from this man - and in matters of the heart, I'd advise "doubling up" on the sundries, if you catch my drift.
It's uncanny, but he bears a strong resemblance to a wharf rat in old Mowee that hollered "whale on the beach" at me when I attempted to commune with the fishies in their natural habitat. His captain was not pleased that he would dare insult a patroness of the fishie-communing excursion yacht, and at lunchtime forced him to play the ukulele and sing while children danced to appease my wrath. This was evidently a fate worse than death for a knave that fancied himself a rock guitarist.
And if I'm not mistaken, I believe his little pop trio was called "Shark Chum," which played later that evening at one of the local bloodbaths that passed for pubs. Mr. Blubridge and I did NOT attend.
And that, my lovely poppets, is a yarn spun from the wool of an honest sheep. Look to the till if Nelson ever darkens our door, and for the love of God do not let him play the ukulele. Once a wharf rat, always a wharf rat.
It's an eerie coincidence and no mistake. Trust no man who is a friend of sharks... especially if the sharks are guarding the swag.
6 comments:
*Jeopardy*
The catagory: you're my soul & my inspiration
For $500 & the daily double, this man was the inspiration for Jimmy Buffet's song *Fins*
and the correct answer is: who is nelson?
alex: that is correct, snuggs. *much snoopy dancin'*
Sweet revenge is yours, Mrs. B. I'm thinking Nelson won't have much furture as a rock stah (much less playing the ukelele), what with the mayhem Captain Gus hath wrought on his arm.
Bard
I need a splash of G&T to steady my nerves. "What a coininkydink" as dear Pater was wont to say.
In the meantime, I have an idea.
The idea involves about 16 tons of par-tay crashing through the ceiling right about now. Because you know that some deus ex machina is fixing to fall on Gus and his scalliwags, so we don't have much time. You know what this means? Vinyl. Bad clothes and worse shoes. The annoying fellow who insists on braying "woop woop" in falsetto. In other words, darlings, it's time to Get Down while the getting's good (and Gus' new ride is still seaworthy).
But don't try to lay no Boojie-Woojie on the King of Rock and Roll. We do have some standards.
ooooh, miz b, do tell! *gathers 'round* nelson is definately not my kinda of fella, so i have no emotional investment in his come-to-jesus meeting. which is good, because emotions can be rather messy when you're up to somethin' and need a firm grip on reality. or a grip on the essence of juniper berries or the incense of a burning spliff of sengalesethunderf**k. ok, so actually a rather tenuous grip on reality at all. i'm *so* yer gel for this. count me in!!!
The party appears to have started. Perhaps I'd better start a fire in the back lounge where tired revelers can dry off between sets.
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