Tag Archives: funny

Was The Seinfeld Series Finale That Bad?

What’s the deal with all these posts about Seinfeld, 3.5 readers?

Ah, Jerry Seinfeld. He was that comedian who taught us all that you don’t necessarily need a punchline so long as you can offer a humorous observation. In 9 seasons, he brought us a show about nothing that surprisingly, meant something to many of us, not to mention how it added a lot of sayings and expressions to the cultural zeitgest.

Channeling Jerry. “What’s the deal with bloggers using the word zeitgest like they know what it means?”

The finale was greatly panned back in the day and there are still fans who despise it. Why am I even talking about it 23 years later? 23 years. Wow. It’s been off the air that long.

In the last episode, Jerry gets the call he has long been waiting for – that NBC has decided to resurrect his long defunct Jerry TV show. An earlier season saw Jerry and George trying to get the NBC to pick it up only to fail in a variety of humorous ways, from skirmishes with the actors to misunderstandings with the network prez.

Jerry, now a network big shot, is granted free use of the company plane, and decides to celebrate by taking pals Elaine, George and Kramer to Paris. Alas, a Kramerian goof up causes to the plane to have to make an emergency landing in rural Massachusetts. There, the quartet runs afoul of a new Good Samaritan law which requires bystanders to help those in need. The fab four sees a portly fellow getting robbed and rather than help, they laugh, make jokes – heck, Kramer even records it on a camcorder.

This leads to a trial that basically turns the whole thing into a glorified clip show. The DA argues that the 4 are by far the most selfish, self-absorbed people in the world, with a long track record of hurting people with their cavalier debauchery filled lives. He even brings in all the people who have suffered due to their shenanigans over the years, from the old lady that Jerry stole a marble rye from (in his defense, George really needed it) to Cidra aka Terri Hatcher who is convinced Elaine’s accidental stumble in a gym sauna was designed to determine if her breasts were real or fake so she could report the info to Jerry. (In Jerry’s defense, Elaine’s stumble was an obvious real accident because given the option, men have no problem finding out on their own, and frankly, would prefer doing their own detective work.)

It’s funny how time flies. I remember being very young when this came on. I remember everyone being disappointed. Yet, I also remember thinking basically the same thing I think today. How else could they have possibly ended it?

Larry David’s rule for the show was “no learning, no growing.” Seinfeld is a comedian’s comedian who truly believes his job is to make an audience laugh. It isn’t to educate or lecture or scold or give you a special message or anything like that. He makes with the ha ha and if you want a show where characters learn or grow, you’d better change the channel.

Ultimately, they worked that into the series. The characters literally never learn or grow. They start the show as a quartet of young schmucks and they end the show as middle aged schmucks. Jerry, George, Elaine and Kramer all have their problems. They’ll be the first to tell you that, ad nauseum and in way too much detail if you let them. Yet, for some strange reason, they demand perfection, be it from their lives, their careers, or most frustratingly, from their mates.

George is bald but has qualms about dating a bald woman. George isn’t very handsome but has a problem dating a woman with a big schnozola. Jerry is a skinny health nut germaphobe and on the show, is a comedian who earns a middle class living on his craft. He’s a better catch than George but he’s far from perfect and rejects women for having man hands, catching gonorrhea on a tractor, having a belly button that he imagines has a funny voice and on and on.

Elaine’s boyfriends are more of a parody of what women have to go through – the schmuck who takes “it” out on a first date, the guy with a bad back who buys her an orthopedic mattress and she can’t tell if it’s because he is trying to give her a thoughtful gift or if he’s hoping to sleep with her and so on.

Kramer is the wild of the bunch. Is he so stupid he has no idea that his life is a mess or is he so smart that he has realized the secret that life is a mess no matter which way you play it so you might as well goof off all the way through it?

At any rate, though I admit the finale is rather lackluster, I’m not sure they could have done better. Could they have had Jerry and Elaine get married? Could they have had George finally settle down? Ultimately, as the jail doors close on the crew, the final joke is that these four are stuck in an eternal purgatory- they will never change their ways, they will never settle for less yet they will never get better enough to accomplish more (Which Larry David has always said is the source of his psychosis as well as his comedy.)

To the show’s credit, there is a moment where Elaine almost tells Jerry she loves him when the plane is going down, Jerry and George do finally get their big break (albeit as George says God would never allow him to be successful and thus why something bad happens to intervene) and it does feature the greatest Newman “I’ll get you, Seinfeld” speeches followed by maniacal laughter of all time.

Bonus points because it tackled the whole “why do people stand around, making fun of someone and recording them in peril rather than help them” long before cell phones with video cameras were ever invented. Overall, the Good Samaritan law seems rather unlikely because while it sounds like a good idea to demand people help those in need in theory, in reality, could an untrained bystander really disarm a mugger without getting mugged or killed him or herself?

STATUS: Shelf-worthy. Credit to Jerry for going out on top rather than try to squeeze another five years, let the show get crappy while he cashed in. It’s not the best episode but I’m just not sure anyone could have come up with a better ending. The idea behind the show is that these people never get a happy ending or even any kind of an ending or closure. They will never change their ways and thus, they are forever trapped in a purgatory of their own design, a Waiting for Godot style life that they carry with them wherever they go.

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This Is Not Arnold Schwarzenegger Clip

Hey 3.5 readers.

I tried to do a podcast once. Alas, The Bookshelf Battlecast was thankfully short lived. Actually, it never really lived. It was dead on arrival.

I enjoyed using the software to cut sound clips together and it’s funny how you never really learn how to do something until you try to do it. It all seemed very confusing at first but before I knew it, I was mixing sound and fading in background music, the whole shebang.

Sadly, I, BQB was the weak link in the BQB cast. I have a face for radio, a voice for print, and a writing style for unpaid blogs that any schmuck with a computer can start. On the mic, I was about as exciting as listening to paint dry and I realized I was better off not on air at all.

The fun byproduct is that I hired various celebrity impersonators to do intros for the podcast. With their talent, they brought scripts I wrote for them to life and a few of them even told me that they had a lot of fun performing what I wrote. I’m like 50 percent sure they weren’t just saying that.

Anyway, here’s a clip of a talented Arnie impersonator doing a bit I wrote:

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Mary Did You Know? (Special Mansplaining Edition)

:::sung to the tune of the original Mary Did You Know?:::

Mary did you know, that your baby, would one day walk on water?

You probably didn’t know, until I mansplained it to you, because you’re not a son, you are a daughter.

Women do not understand things, until men tell them how to do it.

So, come along Mary, and I’ll be glad to talk you through it.

Mary, did you know, your baby boy is the Lord of All Creation?

Mary did you know, your baby boy, is the King of All the Nations?

No, you did not know, until a man like me, exercised his powers of persuasion.

So, sit back Mary and be educated by my man-spla-nation.

Mary did you know, your baby boy, absolved mankind of all its sins?

Mary did you know? Of course, you didn’t. I’ve got the Y chromosome so I already win.

Mary did you know? The obvious fact, that you’re pregnant with the Son of God?

OK Mary please, just smile and nod. Placate me so I don’t feel like a fraud.

Mary did you know? Of course, you didn’t. Without men, women don’t know a thing.

So, gather around and together we will sing…Mary did you know?

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TV Review – Brooklyn 99 (2013-2021)

It came. It went. I’m sad that it’s over but I’m glad that it happened….title of your sex tape.

BQB here with a review of Andy Samberg’s long running police comedy series.

It’s funny, I watched the first season of this show regularly when in the first season. I enjoyed it and a year later, I meant to stream the next season, then the next…and the next. I always considered myself a fan, but whoops, in the literal blink of an eye, 7 years flew by and finding myself devoid of new stuff to watch during this pandemic, I checked into it and discovered I had a lot of catching up to do.

Timely, because half way through my binge (I started this summer and just finished the last episode this week) I realized the show concluded this month. Amazing how time flies.

For those new to it, SNL alum and wacky funnyman Andy Samberg heads up the cast as Jake Peralta, a goofball detective in a Brooklyn police precinct. If you think too hard, its an odd show as in it takes place in a world where funny rarely happens. Jake and his colleagues solve crimes, catch crooks and murderers and yet somehow, wacky hijinx always transpire. In the real world, these types of shenanigans would probably get people killed and cases thrown out of court, but this is the comedy world, so you must suspend disbelief. To the show’s credit, they do manage to walk that fine line of providing goofball slapstick yet the bad guys are still always caught.

The other thing the show does well is character development. It’s a large ensemble cast, yet somehow each character gets their time in the sun. Jake’s crew includes Sgt. Terry Jeffords (uber strong ex-football player Terry Crews who wows us with his strength and pecs), Jake’s partner Charles Boyle (Jake’s partner, a loser who starts the series dating elderly women and living in his ex-wife’s basement, only to slowly but surely dig himself out of that hole over the course of the show), Amy Santiago (Jake’s love interest who worships organization and drools over file folders), Rosa Diaz (a tough, no nonsense detective with a permanent scowl and a deep voice, a far cry from actress Stephanie Beatriz’s real life bubbly, girlish voiced personality), civilian administrator Gina Linetti who ignores her duties to concentrate on social media and trash talking the rest of the gang, and of course, the glue that keeps the precinct together, Captain Raymond Holt (Andre Braugher of Homicide: Life on the Street fame, a tough police captain, the running joke of the show being that Holt is often forced to say absurd, ridiculous things in his deep, authoritative voice. Somehow, IMO, that joke never gets old even after 8 seasons.)

Last, but not least, Scully and Hitchcock. Do you have an old, washed up person in your office? Someone who probably had a real zest for life when they were young but the years crushed their spirit and now they just loaf away at their desks, eating snacks while they count the days till retirement? Dirk Blocker (yes, the son of Dan Blocker aka Hoss Cartwright from Bonanza and Joel McKinnon Miller) plays these sometimes wastes of spaces and occasional fonts of wisdom whenever one of the younger cops dares to wade past their buckets of chicken wings to seek the rare tidbits of wisdom rolling around in their heads. One episode that gives us a flashback to the 1980s when these two were hunky studs, kicking mafia ass and taking names is equal parts funny and sad, a hilarious yet grim reminder that we all must make the best of our youthful primes, because it all goes downhill at a certain age.

Overall, I enjoyed the show very much, though the show got very real in the last season, reflecting a real world and a difficult time period in recent history that has more realness than a zany comedy can handle. Andy Samberg is great at what he does, but IMO, he is, perhaps, one of the last true funnymen, “true” in that his comedy is just that…comedy. If you watch his sketches or listen to his albums, his repertoire consists of silly voices, silly faces, silly premises, silly songs. He was in it for the laughs, never the type of comic who feels the need to impart political or special messages or take a serious turn. Alas, 2020, between the pandemic and the public outcry over police brutality forced the show to tackle serious issues, a challenge the show tried its best to do, and I’m not knocking it but a show such as this isn’t really equipped to do it. Asking Andy to be serious for a moment is like asking Andre Braugher to be serious for a moment. Somehow, when the very serious Braugher says uncharacteristically funny things, it comes off as funny, yet when the consummately goofy Andy says serious things, we just check our watches and wonder how much longer we have to wade through this attempt at drama until he acts silly again.

Unfortunately, in a climate that saw the cancellation of the Cops reality show where cameras follow the police and even the kids’ show Paw Patrol about police officer puppies, the powers that be behind Brooklyn 99 apparently felt a show about silly cops who bungle their way through saving the day wasn’t going to make it in a world that’s doing a lot of introspection about policing. I do think the show was one of the last of its kind, a silly comedy with a primary goal of making the viewer laugh. So many comedies and comedians now feel the need to make us think, give us a message, or to demand that we pick a political side and it’s just…sure, we live in a free country and comedians can do whatever they want but its unfortunate because the best comedians always realized we turned to them for escape and distraction, to get that laughter that makes us feel good…and truly adept comedians might even be able to sneak in a message or two that makes us laugh and think (not the political rallies that the late night talk shows have become.)

One last criticism of the final season, I get they had a tough challenge to be funny while tackling serious but, and spoiler alert…there were one or two moments that left me scratching my head. Turn away if you haven’t seen it, but for example, Jake has a long running friendship/enemyship? with renowned car thief Doug Judy (Craig Robinson) aka The Pontiac Bandit, constantly trying to bring him in yet he either eludes Jake or he and Jake have to team up to catch a bigger fish. In one of the last season episodes, it is implied that Jake helps him escape prison which…I mean I know its a comedy but the implication of a cop helping a crook escape? Holy shit. I always gave the show credit in that it managed to straddle the line between silly comedy and yet reminded us that cops have hard jobs and are expected to make tough calls…so as much as a cop might think a perp got a raw deal (Judy ends up going to jail over a dumb thing he did as a kid years ago), a cop can’t just assist the bad guy in getting away. They dont come right out and say Jake did it, but it is heavily implied.

STATUS: Shelf-worthy. Great show that unfortunately was a casualty of its time. From here on out, I guess sitcoms will just be a smorgasbord of millennial navel gazing and ennui.

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Get All Six of My Shorts – FOR FREE!

I’m Crazy BQB and my prices are insane!!!!!!!

I packed all six of my twisted short stories into one volume, slapped it up on Amazon and this weekend, this collection is FREE! Totally, FREE! My prices are lower than a rattle snake wiggling underneath a limbo stick! If you find a better deal on a better collection of short stories for a price that’s less than FREE, then take it!

GET YOUR FREE BOOK TODAY!

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How A Post About Witches Increased Traffic to This Fine Blog

Nuclear missiles can be launched with less effort than it took me to add this picture to this post. I am really not a fan of WordPress’ new blogging functions. I was only starting to get the hang of the last version after 7 years.

A few years ago, I was younger (spoiler alert, a few years ago we were all younger by a few years) and I had more energy to write creatively on this fine blog. Among my contributions were a series of the top ten reasons why your boyfriend or girlfriend was…a vampire…a doomsday prepper…a ninja…an assassin…a wannabe rapper…and so on.

Now I’m a few years older and I have less energy. Also, quite frankly, I have less time on earth now and my mind no longer placates itself into thinking that I’m gonna turn it all around by becoming a famous write. I’m stuck in the bed I made for myself and let that be a lesson to you, 3.5 readers. Once you make your bed, you got to lie in it…forever and ever and ever and ever and ever. Ergo, I am now a grumpy old bastard with less time and/or interest in bringing myself to think of creative things to write on this fine blog.

But a few years ago I wrote a post about the Top Ten Warning Signs Your Girlfriend Might Be a Witch. Over the years, I saw interest in this post grow, including search terms like, “Is my girlfriend a witch?” (Son, I hate to break it to you, but if you have to google it, you already know the answer.)

I am curious if such googlers are worried their girlfriends are witches of the occult variety (i.e. some dude who saw a female silhouette strafing across the night sky atop a broomstick and he couldn’t help but notice that while this was happening his girlfriend and broomstick were nowhere to be found) or of the regular variety (i.e. she never lets him watch the game or chill with his homeboys and if he burps sideways she writes eighty-seven posts about it.)

Anyway, there is usually an uptick of interest in this post around Halloween. Hard to say, but 30 visitors a day to this exceptional blog is average. Around Halloween this year I received close to 200 visitors thanks in large part to this post. To the close to 200 dudes trying to find out if their girlfriends are witches, I think you ought to stop wondering and just go out and find yourselves girlfriends who you are SURE are not witches…unless you are ugly and/or poor and/or unsuccessful in which case you should probably stick with these witches because on a statistical level, no one else wants you so you need to put up with your girlfriend’s cauldron full of eye of newt and/or charging designer furry boots on your credit card without your permission, whichever witch case she may be.

Or don’t. Because hey, it’s better to be single than to be with a witch. Then again, I hear green women are freaky so maybe she’s worth it. You know what? Don’t come to me for advice about women, be they witches or non-witches. If I knew anything about women, I wouldn’t be writing on a blog that is read by only 3.5 readers.

Anyway, I hope this increase in visitors continues. Though Halloween is behind us, the daily visitors seem consistent at around 70, so there are still a lot of dudes who want to know if they are dating witches.

To those dudes I say:

  1. Probably.
  2. But are you a prize yourself?
  3. Maybe you should just go with it. Not all witches are bad.
  4. I’m sorry she turned you into a toad.

Do you want to know if your girlfriend is a witch? Read the epic post here.

https://bookshelfbattle.com/2016/04/02/top-ten-warning-signs-your-girlfriend-might-be-a-witch/

FYI: I would have embedded the above post into the words “Read the epic post here” but WordPress changes its blogging functions around more than Lady Gaga changes her outfits and I don’t have the strength to figure out how to embed links into words at the moment.

DOUBLE FYI: I just googled “Top Ten Warning Signs Your Girlfriend Might Be a Witch” and I’m proud to say that this post was ranked not only at the top of the page, but a similar post from The Washington Post came in second. A few years ago, that would have really stroked my ego, but today as I mentioned I am quite old and lethargic so I’m not that impressed…although I would note that when it comes to the topic of determining whether one’s girlfriend is a witch, this blog beats the paper that took down Nixon even while it has all the resources that Jeff Bezos can bring to bear, including the whopping 17.8 cents that Jeff has added to his fortune thanks to my self-published books.

TRIPLE FYI: Lesbians, I didn’t forget you. You may also be dating witches. You might also want to check out this post or you might want to ignore it because again, I’m not the one that straight dudes should be going to advice for about women so I doubt my advice will help you out either.

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I Speak for the Pangolin

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I Speak for the Pangolin

By: Bookshelf Q. Battler

(Based on The Lorax)

My name is BQB and I speak for the pangolin.

It’s like an anteater, complete with battle armor for skin.

And people, I have to say, it’s really quite suspicious,

That anyone would ever find a pangolin to be delicious.

Yes!  My name is BQB and I speak for the pangolin.

It’s like an armadillo, but with a slimy little chin.

My friends, I tell you, it really is a sin,

When you’re cooking a pot of soup, to throw a pangolin in!

Pangolins are not delicious.  They do not taste good.

All a pangolin ever wanted to do was frolic in the wood.

If you eat a pangolin, you will get the entire world sick.

So please don’t eat a pangolin, or else you’ll be a dick.

Every pangolin has a purpose, and every pangolin has its time.

So eating a pangolin sandwich really should be a crime.

Pangolins don’t taste good in broth and they don’t taste good on toast.

Eating a poor, defenseless pangolin is something about which one should never boast.

So don’t lick pangolin ice cream and don’t spread pangolin jelly.

For the last place a pangolin wants to be is inside a human’s belly.

Yes!  My name is BQB and I speak for all the pangolins of the world.

Please heed my warning, and let my message be unfurled.

Pangolins have no place in your stomach, but you can keep them in your heart.

From a distance, of course, for you and a pangolin should always be apart.

Sure, pangolins are adorable, but remember, they aren’t good for licking.

So keep your tongue in your mouth, or it’s the world’s ass you’ll be kicking.

Keep the pangolin off your pizza and take the pangolin out of your oven.

Pangolins aren’t a treat, ya know, so don’t feed one to your cousin.

Don’t grind a pangolin in your blender and don’t bake a pangolin up in a souffle.

If you do, you’ll send the entire planet on a bender and there will surely be hell to pay.

For pangolins are unclean and are scary little disease carriers.

If God wanted you to eat a pangolin, he wouldn’t have covered their bods with spiny little barriers.

In closing, let me say, that I am BQB and I speak for the pangolin.

If the pangolin could speak, then I would go out tango-in.

If the pangolin could speak, they’d say, “Please, do not eat me!”

But until the pangolin can speak, you’ll have to take it from BQB.

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Swaddled Pug

For no reason other than maybe some of my 3.5 readers could be cheered up by the sight of a wrapped up pug:

pug-801826_1280

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Daily Discussion with BQB – Should Deodorant Come in Boysenberry Scents?

I’m tired of that chemical perfume smell.  I want to smell like lavender, vanilla, oranges, citrus, and creme de menthe.

Do you also want to smell like this?  If so, please invent such wonderful smells and put them into aerosol form.

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Disco Werewolf – Chapter 6

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“Disco Werewolf is a flash in the pan,” Boogiedown Barry said while sipping his fifth drink of the evening.  “All these young up and comers to the disco scene.  They’re all razzle and no dazzle, all trash and no sash, you know what I mean?  They’re all about the kooky get ups first and the actual art of dancing comes in at a distant second, if that.  You getting all this down?”

“Dancing…comes…in…second,” Claudette mumbled to herself as she jotted her interviewee’s words down in her notebook.  “I got it, but you have to admit, Disco Werewolf can dance.”

Barry looked out at the dancefloor, where the furry funkmaster was matching the beat, note for note, with his big fuzzy feet.  All kinds of sexy ladies pushed each other out of the way for a chance to shake their booties in the wolfman of the hour’s general vicinity.

“Bah,” Barry said.  “I admit nothing.”

“Do you know who he is?”  Claudette asked.

Barry raised an eyebrow.  “Do I know who he is?”

“Yes,” Claudette said.

“Sure, I do,” Barry said.

Claudette looked at Barry with anticipation, pen at the ready.

“He’s the rat bastard who’s ruining my life,” Barry said.  “Look at him.  Hogging up the floor while the rest of us can’t get a foot in edgewise.”

The aspiring journalist frowned upon realizing that Barry didn’t know the secret to the question she was trying so desperately to answer.

Barry sipped, then belched, then sipped again.  “What did you say your name again was, little filly?”

“Claudette.”

“Claudette Who?” Barry asked as he ogled the gyrating rump stuffed inside a short orange skirt just a few feet away.

“Jenkins.”

Barry immediately snapped to attention, no longer interested in the aforementioned heiney.  He looked the kid over.  “Jenkins, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Who are you with?” Barry asked.

“Freelance is what I should say to be honest,” Claudette replied.  “With any luck, for the New York Courant.”

“Huh.  You look a might underripe to be a reporter if you ask me.  Then again, no one asks old Boogiedown Barry anything anymore.  Oh, they used to.  How they used to hang on my every word until that fat pile of…hey, don’t write this part.  This part is off the record.”

“You hate Disco Werewolf,” Claudette said.  “I got it.”

“I do,” Barry said as he watched the monster get freaky.  “Then again, I’m starting to think I shouldn’t.  I mean, does the lion hate the lamb?  Does the hound hate the fox?  Does the  axe murderer in all those cheesy, bargain basement slasher flicks hate the horny teenagers he’s always chasing around?  You see where I’m going with this?”

“Not at all,” Claudette replied.

“I know I’m good,” Barry said.  “I know he stinks.  I don’t have to prove nothing to nobody, you hear?”

“I hear,” Claudette said.

Barry swished the booze around in his mouth like it was mouthwash, then swallowed.  “Now that, you can print.”

Thump.  Thump.  Thump.  A pair of heavy feet cut through the crowd, trudging their way to the bar.  Soon enough, Barry and Claudette found themselves in the company of a big ass werewolf, as well as his hangers on.

“You’re the best, DW!”  one man shouted.  “You’re far out!”

“Groovy, baby!” came another male voice.  “Positively groovy!”

“Disco Werewolf, are you seeing anyone?” asked a female voice.

Barry was standing right beside Disco Werewolf now, but refused to acknowledge him.  Disco Werewolf looked at the fella who used to be the club’s number one dancer and growled.  “Grrr.”

              “Huh?” Barry asked as he chewed on a toothpick and looked around the bar, anywhere but in the werewolf’s direction.  “Somebody say something?  I don’t know, because I don’t talk to nobodies.”

Disco Werewolf let the rude comment slide off and raised a finger.  Ferdinand the bartender practically tripped over himself as he rushed over with an aluminum shaker in hand.

“I got your usual right here, DW, baby,” Ferdinand said as he opened the shaker and poured the contents into a glass.  He popped a toothpick into an olive, inserted it into the drink and handed it over.

The werewolf sipped.

“How is it, sir?” Ferdinand asked.  “Not too dry, I hope?  You know what, Disco Werewolf, you just say the word and I’ll throw it out and make you another.”

Disco Werewolf guzzled the concoction down in a single gulp.  Ferdinand waited in suspense for the verdict.  The monster kicked his head back and howled in delight.  “Ahhhh-wooo!”

Ferdinand smiled while the Looky Lous cheered.  “Don’t you worry, Mr. Werewolf.  I’ll keep those coming all night long.  Free of charge.  Totally gratis, on the house.  Mr. Sugarshine told me straight up, his mouth to my ears, that I shouldn’t even dream of taking your money.”

Disco Werewolf nodded and patted the barkeep on the shoulder.

“Oh wowie, zowie!” Ferdinand said.  “I’ll never wash this shoulder ever again!”

“Like you’ve ever taken a bath in your entire life, spazoid,” Barry said.

“Pipe down, has been!” Ferdinand replied.  “And you’d better make good on your tab, Barry!  It’s already $108.57 and counting!  Mr. Sugarshine can’t be expected to subsidize deadbeat rummies forever!”

“Bah,” Barry said.  “Mr. Sugarshine can subsidize both cheeks of my ass.”

Disco Werewolf was about to walk away when he felt a tug on his paw.  He looked down to see Claudette.  He locked eyes with her and for a brief moment, looked as though he were in a daze.

“Disco Werewolf?” Claudette said as she held up her notepad and pen.  “Claudette Jenkins, hopefully for the New York Courant.  Do you have a minute?”

They say that canines can’t smile because they have no lips, but on some level, the club’s resident dance hound looked happy.  He patted the girl on the head, tussling her hair.  Then, he took the pad and pen, scribbled something down, and handed it all back to Claudette before returning to the action.

Ferdinand leaned over the bar.  “Hokie smokies!   What’d he write?”

Claudette looked at the pad, then showed it to Ferdinand:

To Claudette:

              Stay in school.

              XOXO

              Disco Werewolf

              “Wow,” Ferdinand said.  “If I were you, I’d have that framed.”

Barry felt the need to interrupt.  “Pbbht!  If I were you, I’d have my head examined.”

“Stick a sock in it, lush!” Ferdinand said.  “No one asked you!”

“Bah, your mother wears combat boots,” Barry replied.

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