Fairy Tale Friday 26
The Second Fiddles
Once upon a time, there was little pink piggie, who lived in a foul- smelling basement at the foot of a very high hill, among the detritus of a life rich with failures - dust covered exercise equipment, "Indio's Guide to the Best Spots to Meet Imaginary Women 1999", "Lolspeak for Idiots", etc.
At the top of the hill was a much Bigger house, and the little pink piggie would gaze up at its solid gold windows and ponder rumors of hot sexy orgies and comfy chairs. He knew he was too fat and slow to ever climb that high.
It was the night before X-Day, and a celebration was taking place in the Big House. Laughter and music and the smells of people fucking and eating and fropping drifted down to him. The piggie seethed and picked at his cold Treet casserole. "This Treet has gone bad, which is a subtle distinction from Treet which is still good," he said, to no-one in particular. "Lol."
That night he jabbed his little corkscrew into a badly used blueberry pie, crawled into his stained, sheet-less bed, and fell asleep. But moments later, he was awoken by the sounds of a strumming guitar! "H00 arr y0u?" he asked?
"It is I, the Ghost of Art Garfunkel," came the reply. "I know how you feel, little pig. I used to watch with envy as Paul Simon danced with those Africans like an animated garden gnome. But don't envy the happy people in the Big House - after the sexy orgies, they have to make conversation. Your blueberry pie never talks back!" and he disappeared.
"That was odd," said the piggie, and went back to sleep. But a second spectre appeared. "What now!" exclaimed the pig. "It is I, the Ghost of John Oates! Behold my lush and manly moustache, which had been shed for you and for all, and is now re-born on my ghoulish face beyond the graaaaaaave!"
"Holy shit," said the pig. "I loved 'Maneater'".
"Everybody said Daryl Hall was SO SEXY," said the handsome wavering beam of moustachioed light. "With his flowing golden hair. I know how it feels to hear the sounds of the big house - friends you'll never have, jokes you'll never get. But don't be envious, because here in Sidekick Heaven, Moustaches are King, and Hall scrubs toilets in Mexican hell. Someday they'll wish they understood YOUR jokes, but it will be too late! They're out of touch, out of time, out of touch,
out of time!" and he evaporated.
The little pig couldn't get back to sleep after his visit from sexy John Oates. He went to the kitchen for a burrito. But when he opened his microwave, a powerful force exploded from within. "It is I, the Ghost of Peter Scolari!" it declared.
"Who?" asked the pig.
"Peter Scolari. Michael from Newhart? Character actor? Come on, don't make me say it." But the pig just stared vacantly, as he frequently did. "I was the other guy on 'Bosom Buddies'. I was a big TV star!"
"OH! I loved Tom Hanks on that show!" said the pig.
The Ghost of Peter Scolari nodded solemnly. "I resented it for years. Everything Tom Hanks touched turned to gold, while I drifted from cameo to cameo, always hoping to make it big. But I never allowed myself to believe that my failure was because of any shortcoming in myself. It was just the luck of the draw. Tom wasn't so talented. He just got lucky. Would you like to see what I mean?" And he took the little pink pig by the hoof, and they flew into the air, ascended the hill, and flew through the window of the Big House.
The little pink pig prepared for the sight of awkward interactions, failed jokes, and forced merriment. But what he found was a group of revellers dancing naked and gorging, and a man with one testicle who got laid by a real live girl instead of a cold, jizz clumped pie, and he turned on Peter Scolari and said "What the fuck is this shit? Is this supposed to make me feel better?"
And suddenly all eyes were on him.
"We're invisible, right?" he asked The Ghost of Peter Scolari.
"Well, I am. I'm a ghost. I think they can see you, though."
And the next morning when the saucers failed to come, the party at the Big House featured a sweet roasted pig on a spit, with an apple in its mouth. John Oates and Art Garfunkel and Peter Scolari gave each other high fives for bringing something to the party, and legend tells they all hooked up with some pretty promiscuous plumpers that night. But they're not saying anything, 'cause they're classy ghosts.
The End! Happy Friday!