Tag Larkin has tougher answers to the tough questions facing our nation…

(Note: I thought I had posted these before… maybe elsewhere but not here in my digs. Oh well.)

At 8:35, the lights went down in Theater 21 at the Colonial Ultraplex movie theater for the showing of New Moon.  At 8:45, the film inexplicably catches fire and the theater goers are forced to evacuate.  Among them are Tina the Lesbian and Samurai Cathy.  As they come outside, they see Ninja Vicki and Avonia the Wiccan Pimp waiting for them.

“Vicki?”  Tina says.  “What… What are you doing here?”

“Where else would I be?”  Ninja Vicki says accusingly.  “On a date with Tag Larkin perhaps?”

“Maybe, yeah… I mean, no…” Tina the Lesbian stammers.

“Cath, would you excuse my friend and I for a few moments?”  Ninja Vicki says to her archenemy.  “We have a matter of great importance to discuss.”

Samurai Cathy shrugs and lets Ninja Vicki lead Tina the Lesbian around the side of the movie theater to talk in private.

“It was almost a perfect plan, Tina,”  Ninja Vicki says.  “Getting Tag Larkin to go out on a date with me so I would be out of the way when you put your ill-fated moves on Samurai Cathy.  You got him to play on my tendency to only like men who don’t like me.  You fed him vital information like my anti-rose policy and my taste in music.  You even got Tag Larkin to suppress his Tag Larkin tendencies, if only for a little while.  But you forgot one little thing…”

“And that is what?”  says Tina the Lesbian.

“My self-loathing and low self-image wouldn’t allow me to believe Tag Larkin was truly interested me,”  Ninja Vicki says, a smirk creeping over her face as she remembered Tag Larkin calling her stunningly beautiful.  “Though to be fair, he came very close.”

“All right, Sherlock Vicki, you got me,”  Tina the Lesbian says.  “I knew you’d never let me escalate my designs on Samurai Cathy, so I recruited Tag Larkin to keep you busy for the evening.  He owed me for that Halloween Murder Mystery bullshit he pulled.  So I told him exactly how to court you… all your likes and dislikes…  I even gave him money to pay for your dinner.”

“I knew it!”  Ninja Vicki says.  “Tag Larkin always goes dutch.”

“I expected you to put these pieces together eventually,”  Tina the Lesbian said.  “But after the 8:35 New Moon showing.”

“You should have picked an earlier show,”  Ninja Vicki says.

“The 7:05 was sold out, damn 12-year olds and love-starved Twimoms,”  Tina the Lesbian says.  “So… now that you’ve exposed my plot, what are you going to do?”

“Nothing,”  Ninja Vicki says with a sigh.  “Except try to get you to understand how crazy you’re letting your crush on Samurai Cathy make you.  You can’t insure love through convoluted mastermind machinations like this.  And you don’t even like Twilight!  You’re turning into a LifeTime Movie of the Week villainess here.  It’s not healthy.”

“Maybe you’re right…”  Tina the Lesbian says.  “Maybe I’ve become obsessed.  But it’s been so long since I last clicked with someone.  And I feel a connection with Cathy I don’t feel with anyone else.”

“How about this… I  promise I won’t get upset if you two hang out together, and you promise to stop trying to get Cathy to turn gay for you,”  says Ninja Vicki.  “I think that’s fair, right?”

“All right, you’ve got a deal,”  Tina the Lesbian says.  “One question… why did you bring Avonia the Wiccan Pimp here?”

“I needed someone to start a fire to get you out of the theater,”  Ninja Vicki says.  “Plus Avonia really hates Twilight.”

They return to the front of the movie theater where Avonia is regaling Samurai Cathy with tales of how the Twilight series is the worst thing to happen to young girls since MTV’s My Super Sweet Sixteen (Avonia also refers to the Twilight Series as a multi-volume bag of sadness).  And Samurai Cathy agrees, which is why she wants to hunt down all the sparkly daywalker vampires, should they ever become real.  That and the author wish fulfillment and blatant Mormon overtones skeeve her out as well.

And so the quartet of girls go out to a nearby bar for drinks, where they find Tag Larkin waiting  inside with four flowers in his hand, each one the favorite of Avonia (yellow lily), Cathy (purple lotus), Tina (blue rose), and Vicki (violet).

“You’re right on time…”  Tag Larkin says.  “Just as Tag Larkin planned all along.  For why settle for one woman when Tag Larkin can have four!  Now who wants to come back to Tag Larkin’s place and break some furniture with our love?”

The ladies all force yawns, mutter something about calling it a night, and leave in a hurry.  Tag Larkin uses the four flowers to pick up a quartet of college seniors down the bar from him to break his furniture in the act of coitus.  Just as Tag Larkin planned.

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So Ninja Vicki’s date with Tag Larkin went… well, she did expect him to throw a table at some point, but running out of the restaurant yelling “abort mission!” was highly unexpected. And something didn’t sit right with Vicki the whole time Tag Larkin was charming the pants off her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.  So she returned to me and Anonymous Doug at the Bass-to-Bass for our fingers, which have been curled around pint glasses for the past six hours.

“So, did you fuck him?”  says Anonymous Doug.

“No… but he got uncomfortably close to doing that,” says Ninja Vicki.  “Tag Larkin knew I liked violets instead of roses.”

“Why is that?”  Anonymous Doug asks.

“Because a boy in seventh grade gave me a rose for Valentine’s Day and I pricked my finger on the thorn and got sporotrichosis,” says Ninja Vicki. “So ever since then I’ve been anti-rose and pro-violet.”

“Your face is pro-violet,”  I say.  I am drunk.

“Then Tag Larkin said that he was paying for dinner,”  says Ninja Vicki.

“But Tag Larkin always goes dutch,”  says Anonymous Doug.

“You can go dutch… with your ass!”  I say and laugh.  I don’t know how I’m still staying on my bar stool.

“Then Tag Larkin complemented me and said I was stunningly beautiful,”  says Ninja Vicki.

“That monster!”  says Anonymous Doug.

“But he insulted me at the food court,”  says Ninja Vicki.  “And then he tricked me into dating him… as if he knew that I only like guys who don’t want me.”

“What woman would want me?”  I say, slumping over the bar. “They never have…”

“But the real kicker is that Tag Larkin knew I like Lady GaGa,”  Ninja Vicki says.

“You do?”  Anonymous Doug says, laughing.  “You have the worst taste in music ever.”

“I’m a hideous unlovable monster…”  I say, falling off my barstool. “And now I’m on the floor.”

“But how would Tag Larkin know my musical tastes?”  Ninja Vicki says.  “The only person who’s ever seen my iPod selection is… oh mother-cock-fucker!”

Ninja Vicki roots through my pants pocket for my cell phone, and she uses it to dial Mikka.

“Did I just get lucky?”  I say from the floor.

“Where’s Samurai Cathy?”  she asks as soon as Mikka picks up his phone.

“She’s not here,” Mikka says.  “She and Tina the Lesbian just left to go see that shitty Twilight New Moon movie.”

“Wait, Catherine likes Twilight?”  Ninja Vicki says, stifling a laugh.

“No, she sees it as a training film on how to kill daywalker vampires,”  says Mikka.  “So when Robert Pattinson comes to kill us she’ll be ready.”

“Which theater are they going to?”  Ninja Vicki says.

“What?”  says Mikka.

“Damn it, man!  There isn’t time!”  Ninja Vicki yells.

“The Colonial Ultraplex,”  says Mikka.

Ninja Vicki drops the phone on my stomach and runs out the door.

“I feel cold…”  I say, unable to get up from the floor.

“That’s either loneliness or death,”  says Anonymous Doug.  “Need me to call an ambulance for you?”

Somehow my keys are in my hand.  “No… I’ll drive myself.”

To be continued…

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Because Ninja Vicki wants to avert a national tragedy of catastrophic proportions, she is attending her scheduled date with Tag Larkin at Codependent’s Brewery and Steak House.  And per Tag Larkin’s request to wear something nice, she’s wearing her low-cut ninja top, though she can’t figure out why for the life of her she would do that for Tag Larkin.  But she did.

Tag Larkin meets Ninja Vicki outside of Codependent’s with a single violet in hand, instead of a tallboy of Schlitz or Pabst Blue Ribbon.

“How did you know I like violets more than roses?”  Ninja Vicki says, accepting Tag Larkins flowery token with a smile.

“Tag Larkin knows things,”  says Tag Larkin, opening the door for Ninja Vicki.  They get seated without incident, much to Vicki’s surprise.  ”Tag Larkin suggests the prime rib.”

“I’m not paying thirty-five bucks for meat, no matter how good it is,”  Ninja Vicki says, seeing the price on the menu.

“Tag Larkin has you covered.”

Ninja Vicki flinches, like something just smacked her in the forehead.  “Wait… did you just say you were paying for dinner?  But I thought Tag Larkin always goes dutch?”

“Tag Larkin plays by his own rules,”  says Tag Larkin.  “Now to drink, Tag Larkin suggest the Porter to start, and then a switch to their Pilsner during dinner as to not overpower the succulent flavor of the steak.”

“Wow, you actually know your beer,” says Ninja Vicki.  “Considering all I ever see you drink are tallboys or forties, I would have never thought of you as a beer connossieur.”

“There’s a lot of things about Tag Larkin you don’t know,”  says Tag Larkin with a raised eyebrow.  “Did you know Tag Larkin finds you stunningly beautiful tonight?”

That got a giddy giggle from Ninja Vicki and there was some warmth in her cold ninja heart, if only for a moment.  Then as the waiter came over to take their orders, her self-loathing kicked back in.

Wait a minute.  What are you doing, Vicki?  Ninjas don’t giggle like some love-starved Twilight fangirl.  And you’re being giggly over Tag Larkin! What the hell is going on?  And why hasn’t Tag Larkin hit anyone yet?  Is this really Tag Larkin?

“Tag Larkin will let his lovely date order first,”  Tag Larkin says to the waiter.

Ninja Vicki draws her sword and places it to Tag Larkin’s neck.  “All right, who are you, and what have you done with the real Tag Larkin?”

The waiter looks shaken, but Tag Larkin’s remains stoic as ever.

“Perhaps she needs more time to choose her entree,”  Tag Larkin says to the waiter, who scurries away.   Tag Larkin then turns his attention to Vicki and the sword at his throat.  “Look, this is getting Tag Larkin good and horny, but can Tag Larkin eat something first?  We’ve got a long night ahead of us and Tag Larkin will need his strength.”

“No, something is wrong here,”  Ninja Vicki says.

“If this is wrong then Tag Larkin doesn’t want to be right,” says Tag Larkin.  “Even though Tag Larkin is always right.”

“First you were almost disgusted to be near me at the food court,”  Ninja Vicki says.  “Now you’re treating me like a princess.”

“Would you prefer skipping dinner, jumping in my car, and going to back to Tag Larkin’s place?”  says Tag Larkin.  “You can rock out to the new Lady GaGa single on Tag Larkin’s iPod.”

“Ooh, I love Lady GaGa,”  Ninja Vicki cooed, then snapped back to being suspicious, more so now.  “Wait, how do you know I like Lady GaGa?”

“Tag Larkin knows things.”

“You seem to know too many things, Tag Larkin,”  Ninja Vicki growls.

“Uh… uh… abort mission!  Tag Larkin away!”   And Tag Larkin overturns the table, knocking the sword from Vicki’s hand, and then he runs out the door, leaving Ninja Vicki sitting confused in the middle of the restaurant.  Strangely enough, this is not the worst way she’s had a date end on her.

To be continued…

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I’m at the bar with Anonymous Doug, going through our fourth pitcher of Wes Anderson Wheat Beer: The beer that makes you stare listlessly and not have any inflection in your voice, like most of the characters in his movies.  And just as we pour ourselves some fresh pints, Ninja Vicki comes jumping down from the ceiling to join us, and by her eyes peeking out from over her ninja mask, she seems troubled.

“I got tricked into going on a date with Tag Larkin tonight,”  Ninja Vicki says, taking my beer and drinking it.

“How the hell do you get tricked into going on a date with someone?”  I say.  “Furthermore, how do you get tricked by Tag Larkin?”

“I don’t know!”  Ninja Vicki says.  “All I know is he’s going to be waiting for me at 7pm at Codependent’s.”

“Love their beer selection,”  says Anonymous Doug.  “You’re going to have a good time there.”

“I’m not showing up,” Ninja Vicki says.

“You’re going to stand up Tag Larkin?”  I say.

“No one stands up Tag Larkin,”  says Anonymous Doug.

“Well, I’m gonna,”  says Ninja Vicki.

“Vicki… no one stands up Tag Larkin,” Anonymous Doug repeats.  “It’s like fighting on holy ground in Highlander.  You just don’t do it.”

“Well, I’m gonna,”  says Ninja Vicki.

“The last time a woman stood up Tag Larkin was August 28th, 2005,” Anonymous Doug says.  “The next day Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans.”

“That’s a coincidence and you know it,”  says Ninja Vicki.

“December 25th, 2004… Tag Larkin is stood up on a Christmas date,”  Anonymous Doug says.  “The next day the Tsunami hits Indonesia and kills 300,000 people.”

“Tag Larkin does not have the power of hurricanes and tsunamis,” Ninja Vicki says.

“And let’s never forget the evening of September 10th, 2001 when Tag Larkin sat all alone at the Rib House waiting all night for an online date who never showed,”  says Anonymous Doug.   “No one stands up Tag Larkin.”

“But… Tag Larkin tricked me,”  says Ninja Vicki.  “He said I wasn’t fun or interesting and I said I was too and I could prove it and I then he said to meet him for dinner and I said yes.”

“Yes… Tag Larkin played you like a cheap fiddle there,” I say sarcastically.  “Especially when he asked you out and you said yes.”

“What part of Nobody Stands Up Tag Larkin are you struggling with?”  Anonymous Doug says.  “Now go put on something pretty and have a nice time with Tag Larkin so that we don’t have another national tragedy.”

Ninja Vicki finishes the rest of my beer and jumps back up to the ceiling to leave.

“Is all that stuff about Katrina and Tsunami and 9/11 and Tag Larkin true?”  I say.

“Fuck if I know,”  says Anonymous Doug.  “But do you really want Tag Larkin walking around town for the next few weeks pissed off about being stood up?”

Anonymous Doug is the smartest man I know who isn’t Batman.

To be continued…

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You might remember that Tina the Lesbian has a crush on Samurai Cathy.  You might also remember that Samurai Cathy is dating Mikka.  And you might also remember that Tina the Lesbian got Samurai Cathy a job as a bouncer down at the local lesbian bar ClamLappers as part of a plan to see if maybe perhaps possibly Cathy could discover her inner lesbo and have the same feelings for Tina as Tina has for her without upsetting the social balance because Samurai Cathy is dating Mikka.

(Whew, trying saying that sentence in one breath…)

“I don’t think it’s working,”  Tina the Lesbian says to her best friend Ninja Vicki as they have lunch at the food court in the mall.  “It’s been like three months and I haven’t seen anything to suggest Cathy’s even considering being bi-curious.”

“I guess that means the experiment has failed and you can stop having a crush on my archenemy,”  says Ninja Vicki.

“Or maybe I need to nudge her a little harder,” says Tina the Lesbian.  “Maybe I’m being too subtle.”

“Tina… no, just no,”  Ninja Vicki says.  “I know this is going to sound crazy coming from your ninja friend, but do not force the issue.  It won’t end well.”

“I’m not talking about grabbing her and kissing her,” Tina the Lesbian says.  “Maybe a little incidental contact that perhaps lingers a bit longer than usual.”

“Tina, I will put Tag Larkin back on your front lawn to serenade you if you try this stupid idea,”  Ninja Vicki says with a hard glare.  “Look, I know Catherine.  Catherine is not gay, just like how you will never be straight.”

“Well it doesn’t change the way I feel about her,”  Tina the Lesbian says, excusing herself to use the little lesbian’s room.

Ninja Vicki shakes her head and sighs.  “Not this shit again… fuck me…”

Tag Larkin jumps up from his seat clear across the food court and runs over to Ninja Vicki’s table, like a dog following a sound only he can hear.

“Oh… it’s you,”  Tag Larkin says, disappointed when he sees Ninja Vicki.

“Yeah, it’s me,”  Ninja Vicki says, then realizes she’s been insulted.  “Hey!  What the hell does that mean?”

“Tag Larkin thought an interesting and fun woman wanted Tag Larkin to fuck her,”  says Tag Larkin.  “But it’s just you.”

Ninja Vicki’s jaw visibily drops from behind her mask.  “I’m a fucking ninja!  You don’t get much more interesting and fun than me.”

“Tag Larkin knows otherwise,”  Tag Larkin says.

Ninja Vicki jumps up on the table.  “Oh yeah?  Well how about I prove it then?”

“Codependents’ Brewery and Steak House, 7pm tonight, be there!”  Tag Larkin says.

“No, you be there!”  says Ninja Vicki.  “Because I’ll be waiting there for you.”

“Good!  And wear something nice!”

As Tag Larkin walks away and Ninja Vicki steps down from the table, a cold realization slowly grips her.  “Wait… what just happened?”

To be continued…

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“If you find yourself lost in the woods, fuck it, build a house. “Well, I was lost but now I live here! I have severely improved my predicament!” “—Mitch Hedberg

This has been your Precious Encouragement of the Week.  We built a house in your heart, and then the bank foreclosed on it after the love factory closed and we all got laid off.  Then we did a bunch of stuff for food money that we’re not proud of.  That’s what the crying is all about.

This is why Doug doesn’t work in an office…

Our resident ninja calls this one… “Slim pickings.”

Fuck, how much must I
compromise so I do not
sleep alone tonight?

And this one’s entitled “Billy Mays and his Oxi-Clean ain’t got shit on me.”

Slit throat pours crimson
Staining mess on the carpet
That’s not coming out

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As part of the Humorbloggers.com Fight Against Injustice month…

Here in my older, less angry years I find suicide to be a senseless act with no redeeming qualities, so I don’t advocate it.  Except for one particular area…

Financial industry fuck-cancers.

It’s well documented here at Renal Failure that I long for the day most of the financial talking heads on CNBC and Fox Business try to hitch a ride on the Hale-Bopp comet on camera (I don’t get the Bloomberg channel here, so I can’t say whether they should all take a ride to Jonestown and try the fruit punch).   So when ex-CEO of CitiGroup John S. Reed who engineered the creation of Citigroup (which is now 32% owned by the US Treasury) and helped repeal the Glass-Steagle Act that helped create the economic fuckstorm we’re currently in pops up to say he’s sorry for doing all those things… well,  I lament the fact he didn’t punctuate his apology with his lips around the barrel of a shotgun and his toe propped on the trigger.

(Side note: There is no truth to the rumor that two kids killed themselves while listening to Feather Healer.  No way do you want to kill yourself when you’re rocking that hard.)

This choice quote from Johnny Fuckstain infuriates the shit out of me:  “When you’re running a company, you do what you think is right for the stockholders. Right now I’m looking at this as a citizen.”

Like you weren’t a citizen before, you pap smear.  You don’t stop being a human fucking being just because you run a company.  The stockholders could think using dead kittens as condoms while ass-raping orphans is a smart business move, but no one will applaud you when you strap poor dead Mittens to your cock and hold down little crying Abigail on a dingy mattress in your basement.

If this was Japan we’d be seeing John S. Orphanfucker hanging himself from the branch of a cherry blossom tree or plunging a cermonial knife deep into his stomach.  Japan has an epidemic of businessmen killing themselves.   Why doesn’t America have this?  Why aren’t Goldman Sachs assholes disembowling themselves?  That would open up some jobs and allievate unemployment.  Golden guns, not golden parachutes.  Your severance package is a revolver with a chambered bullet and a check for your family that can be cashed upon that bullet going through your skull.

I leave financial fuckwits as my exception to my anti-suicide advocation stance because they cannot do penance for what they’ve done, even if one of those psychopaths can get it through their heads that they royally fucked up.  John S. Reed is sorry for what he did, but what can he do about it?  What sort of contrition can he do to atone for his transgressions?  Nice guy?  I don’t give a shit.  Good father?  Fuck you. President Lyndon Johnson kept his ass out of Hell for the Vietnam War by getting the Civil Rights Act passed.  What does John S. Destroyer of Futures have up his sleeve?  Not a damn thing.  What’s Alan Greenspan going to do for realizing too late the fundamental flaw in his asshole philosophy that even an underachieving drunk like me could fucking see from a mile away?  Not a damn thing.  Because financial fuckwits only know one thing: how to be financial fuckwits.  And raping orphans with dead kittens on their cocks.  Okay, two things.

I think our economy will only revive upon the mass suicides of financial fuckwits like them.  Only then will people feel confident about spending money again.  So come on, financial fuckwits!  You love the free market so much, how about dying for it?  I’ll buy a flatscreen TV if Ben Stein will slit his wrists on it.

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