The Ol' Misplaced Derby Hat Job [a Comic Sketch]

 

Mr. Jackboot Jackpots, prophets make prophecies, oye. Yeah, Kid Columbus, bustin' your rumpus to follow us up the snuzzleguts and make a mark out of all of us. The Self transitions in time. Be careful what you insinuate! you got you a fungus in the bungus? a hibiscus in your soiled maroon pup tent? Have you seen my Derby hat? I've seemed to've misplaced it? Jefferson Dildo Hemingsworth! How dumb and directionless your cruelty is. Are you inured to your own cruelty?! Peekaboo, psycho! I know I ought to behave better, but in order to do so you see I must have my misplaced Derby hat first in hand and then atop temporary head. Astonishing. You are like the cunt of a moose unto, uh, things all loose on the goose. On the gander. If...if I may loosen my tie. Goddamn, Baby Brigadier. Money is not real. Money is not consideration. Why don't we test our sexual compatibility before making any hasty decision about the definitely stollen hat?

What the fuck is fucktually fucktioning right now, Little Vowel? We are standing here live from the Great Raid of 1840. Horseshit, and I'm confident as a ram that I'm as credible as I am, Sam. You were once very warm and engaging and you made lenses like Spinoza. You were fired for discrimination but deserved no astringency along the meridian. Why does the body move as it does, as though operated like a puppet among a myriad of filthy and frenetic puppets puppeteered by puppeteers unable to send communications back and forth for some reason? What guides people is mood. And beloved objects like a hat or a broach...or the plump and milky handjob girls at the dairy. The what? The...the girls...at the dairy...who are merciful and quick in their tawdry ministrations. My thing is me having good time, capital-F Fuck the torpedoes. A man at cross-purposes. Muse much? I'm not sure. I've lived 17,300 years and I have not seen anything all that worthy of special acclaim. Well, consider that a kind of hasty beginning.

My father would like to shake your hand. The Great Goddamn Godandus?!! Help! I'm on a popularity contest! Awaketh. You do not know if you are the victim or the perpetrator of a crime we have not yet specified. People don't give a fuck. They throw a throwing star 'tween your frizzed-out eyes. Could be your mother dressed as your brother. It just don't relent. Lonesome and squirrelly, judge piggybacking jury. Are you here to dismantle me and shut me down kaput ad infinitum? Is that the whisper of the machine's walnut wish? Go fish, do what you wish: ain't no demands be crying in on me. Me neither. If you give over the Derby hat you definitely fuckin stole and got on yer this here minute.