I pull up to your place in my car (which I've painted to resemble the Duke Boys' General Lee) thrust my hand into the bag of jellybeans on the front seat, grab a half-dozen or so, step out onto the street and start whippin' 'em at your windows. I go and get some more out of the car and begin wingin' jelly beans across the street, onto the roof of your neighbor's place. They roll down into the gutter, making an awful racket.
*and now the fun begins...have a seat...you'll enjoy this*
By this time you're at the front door, screamin' something about what the hell am I doing? And am I crazy? And I yell, "YEAH!...CRAZY LIKE A BEAVER I AM!!"
Before long we're in the car heading across town, laughing like a couple of Ed McMahons, on our way to get our hair done.(I offered. My treat. You said, "Why the hell not? It's my birthday!") The only drawback is the long drive, and you don't hesitate to complain about it. This is when I reach for the Etch-A-Sketch. "Here!...went to Niagra Falls with one of these babies when I was a kid...They're better than drugs!" Forty-five minutes later we come to a stop on an overpass spanning the interstate. I pull over on the shoulder and ask you to get out of the car. I start to get out myself, when you ask me to look at your drawing of Oprah, and I say "Looks more like J.F.K...." and you say "That's because of the equator." And I pause, because I don't know what the hell that means. I pop open the trunk, and as you stroll around back, you remark about all the rubber balls. I grab a ball, take the purple Magic Marker from my pocket, and write, "I see you when you're sleeping and I know when you're awake" on the ball, then toss it into the onrushing traffic below the bridge. Handing the maker to you, with a "It's your turn" look on my face, you swipe the pen, scoop up a ball, and scribble "Property of Enola Gay" on it before launching the sphere into the path of the oncoming automobiles. Now...you wanna talk about fun? We fall to our knees with laughter, watching the antics of these desperate drivers and their pie-eyed passengers as they jerk their cars back and forth trying to avoid those bouncing beauties. Some time passes as the ensuing messages on the balls become more and more elaborate, before being set free over the highway. This is when the cops show up. It's a high-speed chase with roadblocks and choppers, taking hours. -------> Nevertheless, we lose 'em, and end up in the basement of an old church. You know the one. This is where I tell you to take the pantyhose off your head. (You'd put it on to mask your identity when the camera crew flew up along side of us in the helicopter during our getaway.)
Anyways...A preist walks in on us as we're collecting our thoughts and says, "What're you two doin' here?...Have I seen you before?" I nudge you, and hand you a white NECCO wafer, and you understand my plan immediately. Slipping the candy onto my tongue, I answer him, "Yeth, Padre, you know uth...We got communion from you." And he sees the white disc and says softly, "Oh...I see..." And he turns to leave us, but suddenly whirls around, brandishing a shotgun. Spitting out the candy, I whip out my handgun. The priest stares, aghast, at the wafer on the ground. "Yoy, my friend, are going to wish you hadn't done that," he sneers. The I grin back, "You feelin' tough enough to go toe-to-toe with MR. Hollow Point?" And you yell "Hey! This ain't right! I ain't even been sung to yet!" Bewildered, the priest looks at me, and I explain that it's your birthday. He pulls a pitch pipe from his vestments, blows a high "C", and arm-in-arm we launch into a rollicking version of the birthday song, leaving you weeping with joy.
