I was sitting on my favorite old Garfield beach towel, minding my owns and wondering if conjoined twins have ever been attached at the genitals when in the distance I hear a faint voice yelling "Yo! Jason!".
I turn around and see Mel Gibson, shirtless and bearded, running towards me. He is unusually sweaty, for any man...let alone a famous person.
"Uh, what's up, Mc G?", I say.
"Ha! Mc G! I love that!", he says back.
"How's it going?"
"Oh, pretty good. Do you mind if I pull up some real estate on Odie's face over here?"
"It's a free country", I say.
"Well, I mean...it sort of is until you account for the Jews and their...(edited for time and content)...government, you know?"
"Uh...yeah. Hey, listen, Mick. Don't take this the wrong way but I think I'm going to get going?"
He looks at me with what can only be described as "puppy dog eyes" and sheepishly asks if I want to spot him on some push-ups before I take off. I take pity on him and say ok.
He takes a disturbing deep breath and launches into a wicked set of 'shups (as he likes to call them). After a while it begins to look kind of fun and I say, "do you mind if I join you?". So before you know I am doing push-ups right next to Mel "Bird On a Wire" Gibson and actually enjoying it. In between grunts and crackles he yells out to me "being out here...huffhuff...in the salty ocean breeze....hufff...with the sun on your back....huffhuff....is like nursing on the sugar-tit of Mother Nature".
I simply smile, look back at him and say "it sure is, Mel. It SURE IS".
No comments:
Post a Comment