Marco:The Comedian

Quotes from the Comedian

�You�re telling me it�s more relaxing for everyone if I act like we�re all going to die?�

�Wow, Marco, you really seem to know a lot about classical music. And may I say, you are an unusually handsome, manly man. I want you, I want you now.�

Okay, that may be a slight exaggeration. But she definitely said the part about me knowing a lot about music.

�Weird around bugs and snakes?� Cassie asked with a raised eyebrow. �Is that how girls are, Marco?� With that, she reached into a low drawer beneath the bottom row of cages.

A second later, a snake was lightly tossed through the air in Marco�s direction.

�Ahhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Get it off me!�

I saw the sly gleam in Marco�s eye. �You heard the man, Cassie. Let�s grovel.�

He scooted his legs forward, lay on his back, stuck his hands behind his head, and relaxed like he was at the beach soaking up sun.

�I grovel before the mighty Helmacron captain, most mighty of the might, undisputed champion of the world in the dust-weight category! We grovel like the pitiful losers we are! We grovel like a guy who hasn�t got a date the day before the prom and the only girl around is the head cheerleader, that�s how much we grovel...O mighty Helmacron dead guy, we grovel like a video game addict trapped in an arcade without a quarter, that�s how much we grovel. You would not believe the depths of our grovelry! We grovel like a guy with a large order of fries and the only saltshaker is at the table of the school bully. We grovel-�

�It�s OAT-freaking-MEAL!�

�Duh duh, duh duh, duh duh, duh duh, duh duh,� I sang, doing the theme from Mission: Impossible. �Your mission, should you decide to accept it: Give the parrots back their dignity and strike a blow for Mommy Earth!�

�Paging Stephen King,� Marco said quietly. �R.L. Stine calling Stephen King with a message from Anne Rice.�

I heard a loud crunching sound. <What was that?> I asked.

<Fence.> Marco said.

A few second later, a very similar sound.

<More fence, okay?> Marco said. <Everyone just shut up. I have it under control.>

<Ah, so many people, so little time to insult them all.>

�But I�ll tell you right now, this whole thing is insane. Insane! Morphing sharks to infiltrate some underwater Yeerk complex? What has happened to our lives?�

�Easy...ABC. Just don�t mention, D) we chase a super sub into the ocean, and E) try to destroy it before, F) they reach an alien spacecraft in the middle of, G) a bunch of unexploded bombs and shells that may get set off when the Yeerks try to, H) fry us with their Dracon beams.�

I followed Rachel to a dressing room.

My first and probably last visit to a women�s dressing room.

�Hey, I can�t be controlled by �the man�s� arbitrary schedules. I come and go as I please. I am free. No one holds me down.�

<...Stand back, you cowards, and let true Helmacron heroes gather up their just booty!>

�We�re just booty?� Marco said with a nervous giggle.

<This is going really well,> Marco said dryly. Then he sang new words for that Barney song.

�He has that much power?� Marco said. �He has Baywatch-level power?�

�We could probably sell the story rights to Lifetime for big bucks,� Marco commented. �This is so television for women. Two strong, independent girls. One body.�

<...It�s a crime, that�s what it is. Had to be math. Couldn�t have been some subject I can fake my way through. No. Has to be math. The answer is either the square root of pi or it isn�t, dude, there�s no bull factor. I can�t say, �Well, I felt what the author really meant was...�>

�We do get our share of Looney Tunes and crackpots out here. � He looked directly at Marco as he said crackpots.

<Wow. And I thought the Chee were so smart,> Marco said.

�No. No. The sun does not rise in the west, the Chicago cubs don�t win the World Series, Scully never, ever believes Mulder, and Rachel does not cry. These are things I know.�

�Good plan,� Marco said. �That way there�ll be two of us to scream, �Oh no, we�re toast!� when the next Big Rex shows up.�

WHUMPF

WHUMPF!

CRASH! Rattle...rattle...

Ax had hit the desk. Tobias had hit the floor. I had hit a metal trash can and gone rolling inside it.

�I�m not allowed to hitchhike. Especially not with evil alien parasites. My dad is very definite about that.�

Marco nodded, obviously deep in thought. �If we were small like this permanently, we could grow old, have kids, and populate the world with a new race of tiny people.�

I gave myself a quick once-over�nothing seriously damaged but my dignity�and set out after the woman who had so callously whacked me. This woman had an appointment with the dirty pavement, courtesy of a well-placed Saucony crosstrainer.

Marco put his hand on my shoulder. �Phasers on full power!� he said in a Captain Picard English accent. �Arm photon torpedoes! If the Borg want a fight, we�ll give them one! Make it so!�

�Beakanoma,� Jake said.

<It�s especially tragic and all because it only afflicts really smart, really cute people,> I said.

�Should we be singing that valderee, valdera, valderee, valdera-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah song?� Marco asked. �I mean, we are �a-wandering.� �

�A Federal Express truck?� Marco said. �Isn�t that copyright infringement?�

�They can call my lawyer: He was Moses� law professor.�

�We have got to do something about these funky morphing outfits. We are a disgrace to superheroes. Can you imagine us ever being in a comic book alongside Spider-Man? We�d look like the Clampetts.�

�Weird?! There�s a whole ship with a bunch of dead guys getting ready to raise sail and sing, �yo ho, yo ho, a pirate�s life for me,� in an underwater cave the size of Lake Erie, and your feeling is that�s weird?�

<Well...okay, we don�t exactly have one right now,> I said, feeling fairly idiotic. <But we used to. And we may get one again.>

<We�re shopping all the sales,> Marco said brightly. <Enemies �R� Us, EnemyMart, J. C. Enemy. Don�t worry, we�ll find one.>

He shrugged. �You think it�d change the course of history much if George Washington was to lose his extra pair of boots?�

�Hey, it�s freezing, all right? Not all of us happen to be horses at the moment.�

I heard someone make a not-so-subtle remark about lunatics joining the ranks.

<Marco, stop talking to me. People are noticing. They think you�re nuts.>

�What are we supposed to do? Find a town, make a collect call to our families and tell them we�re in South America? �Hey, Dad, guess what? I�m in Brazil. Or maybe Costa Rica. Could you come pick me up?� �

<I�m innocent, I tell you!> Marco cried in private thought-speak as he was wheeled into the room.

�Yeah. Um...you know, horse food. Boy, you should see how many cans this guy can eat. Man, all day long I�m opening cans of horse food and filling his dish.�

<Hey, that guy gave me the finger!>

�To get to the other side and see the chicken,� Marco whispered.

<I�ve gone insane...Deedly deedly deedly loopy! Nutso. Insane in the membrane.>

<Yeah, well, keep it together...The entire human race depends on us winning this battle.>

�What could be more relaxing than going on a hike with a couple of fugitive space goblins while being hunted by giant worms and probably Visser Three himself? And all the time knowing we�re following the plan of an all-powerful galactic pain-in-the-butt who gets us to do all his dirty work.�

�Well, that does it...We have moved permanently to bizarre-o world. We�ve traveled in time, we�re in a jungle fighting brain-stealing aliens and ten thousand annoying species of bugs, and our resident space cadet is a hot looking monkey. Somebody wake me up when we get back to reality.�

�I think maybe it�s time to call the Exorcist.�

<What do polar bears eat?> Jake asked.

<Dumb kids playing hero,> I muttered.

�By the way, what with this being a crisis and all, I�m not even going to mention the sheer, bizarre, utter stupidity of taking a long ride through the city water supply....But, just for the record, this is insane!�

�We have at last achieved Maximum Weirdness. We�re the size of pimples, looking up at a bird-turned-boy who looks huge because he�s maybe a quarter of an inch tall, as we fly around on the back of a toy-sized spaceship, which we hope to crash by having Cassie turn into a whale the size of a baby mouse, so we can defeat a race of lunatics with brains the size of bacteria. That does it, the votes are in, the Oscar for Absolute Insanity goes to us. Everyone go home. We rule the lunatic world.�

I could trust my father and maybe end up dead. I could try to help my mother and maybe end up dead. And as a bonus, I could get all my friends killed and doom the entire human race.

I was about fifteen rows back. Marco was in the row ahead of me to the left. I could see the side of his face, and he know it, so was amusing himself by twitching ears in time to the music.

The guy grinned and slapped his chest. �Polo.�

�That�s either his name or his favorite brand of shirt.�

�You ever notice how many different ways there are to say �throwing up?� � Marco asked...�There�s vomiting, of course. Hurling. Tossing your cookies. Puking, a classic. Ralphing...There�s cascading. But I prefer the terms that are more real. Like blowing chunks. Spewing your guts...Tangoing with the toilet. That�s a good one,� he said reflectively. �Technicolor yawn.�

<Ah, yes, life as an Animorph. It�s not a job. It�s an adventure!>

As if the Yeerks aren�t bad enough for me to deal with-this woman my dad has gone all Sweet�n Low for? She just happens to be a teacher at my school. My math teacher. Ms. Robbinette.

It�s enough to make you want to ban parent/teacher conferences.

�Oh, good, a story,� Marco said. �Is it a musical, too? Will there be any Hakuna Matata involved?�

�Trouble?� Marco said, mocking. �Trouble? What makes you say we have trouble? Everything seems fine to me. Perfectly fine. I have never been better.�

�Shark-petting. Add that to the dolphin rodeo and we have a whole new ESPN show.�

�Isn�t that romantic? Blondie and Bird-boy watching TV together. So Rachel munches on popcorn and Tobias eats roadkill? Romance! Must be something in the air.�

�What�s your problem, Marco, not enough fiber?�

<Have I mentioned that this is insane?> Marco said.

<Yeah, I think you may have,> I said.

�When you start taking advice from Marco, the end of civilization is very near...�

Rachel gave me one of her patented, insolent smiles. �You in a hurry, Marco? Has it occurred to you yet that if those little guys are some killer whale�s meat, we w-w-will be, too?�

That had not occurred to me. Now it was occurring to me in vivid color with sound effects. �That�s a happy thought, Rachel.�

<Poop him!> Marco yelled suddenly...It hit Visser Three in his face. <Poop him!> Marco yelled again.

�She�s uptalking,� Marco said, shaken. �She said I was cute. She...she smiled. At me.�

I bobbed back up to the surface and said, �This is insane, Marco.�

To which I answered, �So I�ll be careful.�

To which I countered, �You�re talking to yourself, do you know that?�

�Oh, shut up,� I said.

Marco didn�t lift Chapman�s car. He punched the driver�s door with a fist the size of a gallon milk jug.

Then he crashed a huge, hairy gorilla fist down on the hood of my father�s new car.

<Hey!> I hollered, horrified. <That�s our car! My dad�s going to have a cow.>

Marco said. Then, with barely suppressed glee,

�We like to keep busy. It�s either rescue entire races or play Nintendo.�

I could run away. Leave town. Never come back. I had the powers. I could get by. I could go to Hollywood. Or France. Somewhere.

French Marco. I liked it. Were the Yeerks in France? I didn�t care. I wouldn�t pay any attention to them.

�Look!� Marco cried, like he�d just spotted the Holy Grail sitting on top of the Golden Fleece. �Tears!�

I was in an elevator full of people, turning into a fly, and no one so much as glanced back at me. I fought down the lunatic urge to say, �Hey, I�m turning into a fly here. Hello? Are you people or statues?�

<Not a bad body on that one,> Marco said.

That earned him stares from all of us.

<What? What? I can�t compliment a fish girl?>

Nanook the polar bear went lumbering off. No doubt to tell some stories of his own. I could hear it now: �No, seriously! A gorilla. I�m minding my own business, and suddenly there�s this gorilla...�

�Cool!� Marco said, climbing to his feet. �Now Tobias can have one and I can have the oth-AAAAHHHH!�

�We�re filming a Doublemint gum commercial later,� Marco said, then cringed, lest Mean Rachel go all psycho-gymnast on him again.

�He�s in every magazine,� I said. �Teen, YM, Seventeen.�

�Wussy Weekly, Midget Monthly, The New Dork Times...�

�Okay, that does it.� I stuck my elbow up on the table, arm upright in the arm-wrestling position. �Let�s go. Come on, let�s settle this once and for all.�

Jake yawned. �Shouldn�t we have a pair of live scorpions to make it interesting?�

Rachel grinned and stuck her arm up alongside mine. Our hands clasped. I pushed. She pushed. And then...

�Ow!� A sudden, sharp pain in my knee. An instant later my hand slammed down on the table.

�You kicked me! She kicked me under the table! Jake, your cousin kicked me!�

�-and having the female cast members of Baywatch apply suntan oil to my muscular body.�

�So you�d have bought some muscles, too, huh?� Rachel said. �Didn�t know you could do that.�

�Look, I don�t know about anyone else, but I believe in listening to my instincts. And my instincts are saying, �You�ve done enough, Marco. Go home. Play with the stupid poodle. Do some homework.� �

�Can someone interpret from Marco-babble to normal language?�

�Rachel, you could come in.�

<Marco!> Tobias chided.

�Hey, the Wicked Witch gets to be full size and I�m down here singing, �We Represent the Lollipop Guild?� I don�t think so.�

�Yeah, no kidding it wasn�t nice. I found out that my online girlfriend PrtyGirl802 is actually a seventy-three-year-old retired postal worker.�

<Earthling!> I yelled. <Your son ditched school early!>

�Jake, oooh baby, you are the man for me. I love your big manly shoulders. I love your piercing brown eyes. (They are brown, right?) But most of all, I love the macho, manly way you boss us all around, snapping out orders left and right. I think of you as the new Clint Eastwood. I must have you all to myself. Signed, Cassie. XXX.�

I sighed. Marco, of course...using one of his many fake screen names...I clicked on the �Create Mail� command.

�Cassie, you know I like you, too. But I have vowed not to get involved with any girl until my best friend, Marco, gets at least one girl to like him. And since we know that�s never going to happen, I guess we�ll never get together. Signed, Jake.�

Their third mass. Which made me wonder if they had any hope of winning. I mean, one church service, maybe. But three? That�s not a sign of confidence. That�s more like �I�ll be there any minute now, Lord, so have Saint Peter make up my bed.�

�No! No! It can�t be! Who is this vision of loveliness? Who is this fantasy come true? Excuse me, but are you Tyra Banks? No, no, you can�t be any mortal girl. So much perfection could never be achieved by a mere human. You�re an angel descended from heaven! I mean, they say clothes make the man, but these clothes make you an angel.�

�Are you done?�

He thought for a moment, then nodded. �Yeah. That should be about enough.�

�What did Rachel pay you?�

�Two bucks. Girls are such idiots sometimes. I�d have done it for a dollar.�

<I�m having a strange desire to eat a monkey...And yet, I was a monkey a few hours ago. We�re all going to end up in the nuthouse someday. You realize that, right?>

�Please don�t remove my head. I use it sometimes.�

I couldn�t hear everything he said, but the basic idea was, �Men, we�re outnumbered, but we�re here for a good reason, which is that I want to be King of France, so let�s go kick some French butt and we�ll all be mighty pleased with ourselves on the off-chance that we actually survive.�

Basically the same kind of heroic nonsense we Animorphs tell ourselves before we go into battle.

�An alien, no way!�

I�m sorry, I couldn�t help myself. In thought-speak I said, <Yes, way!>

<What do we do?> I asked Marco.

<Demorph?>

Now, let me step back and paint this picture for you: It�s me, the snake, thought-speaking to a very suspicious guy, pretending to be speaking from a now cocker-spaniel-sized half-spider, half-Andalite, while getting information from a Bird-boy, announcing that some kid had ditched school early.

And there, sitting calmly atop a crate of canned minestrone and enjoying a banana, sat a gorilla.

�Marco?�

<No, some other gorilla.>

�That�s what�s strange: the word �yanked.� Us turning into mosquitoes to suck some guy�s blood so we could morph into him and instead ending up in the middle of some war to control psychic yellow frogs, and oh, by the way, blowing up a small continent full of Yeerks, saving an entire species, then getting back here to find out Coma-man woke up from a mosquito bite delivered by a morphed alien-slash-deer-slash-scorpion-slash-four-eyed centaur, that�s all totally normal. That�s just an average day. Dear Diary: another boring, average day, till someone said �yanked.� �

<This guy knows how to live,> Marco said with satisfaction. <Someday that�ll be me.>

<Who�ll be you? The guy mowing the lawn down there?>

�Okay, there�s that girl, Holly Perry, you know, she transferred from Polk?� Marco said from his seat on one of the big bales of hay in my barn. �I want my Chee to ask her out for me. I tried a couple of times, but this thing happened with my voice.�

�He started clucking like the chicken he is,� Rachel commented.

�Holly Perry. No problem,� Erek the Chee told Marco. �It�s not like we have anything else to do but work on your love life. Yeah, the Chee who plays you will also hold down his regular full-time job as a restaurant manager, but hey, your love life comes first.�

�There are plenty of times when you don�t smell human,� Rachel said with a smirk. �But then, maybe that�s because you have a small monkey living on top of your head.�

He held out his arm to me and said, �What, no kiss for me?�...�No?� Marco said, puzzled. �I guess I�ll have to turn to Rachel.� He went for her, arms out, lips puckered.

If you could get paid for being annoying, Marco would be a millionaire.

�Just say it,� Marco told them. �I am but a poor Earth man, unable to understand the ways of the superior Andalite beings.�

The last thing anyone wanted was two Marcos at one table. There was a joke in there somewhere, but I was too busy to think about it.

�Did well? Did well?� Marco echoed. �We kicked butt on the meanest gang in the galaxy, whupped Crayak the Big Nasty, saved the Iskoort, which I�m still not sure was a good thing, and planted a little sensitivity bomb in the Howlers, and that�s it? �Job well done,� and �Oh, by the way, here�s your insides to look at again as we zip through inside-out world?�

�So. Purely hypothetical, here,� he whispered. �Mean Rachel goes with Tobias, right? And you think I�m cute, right?�

�I was going to yell, �Hey, handsome,� but I thought you might prefer �Yo.� �

�Marco,� I said, once I had demorphed. �You know you�re a toad?�

�Kiss me and I�ll become a prince,� he said without hesitation. �I�ll be The Prince Formerly Known As Toad. You know you want me. You can�t help it. After all, you�re female and I�m...well, I�m me.�

�So that�s the nuthouse...I always suspected I�d end up here.�

Marco landed sprawled all over me. He put his finger to his lips. �Shhh, don�t tell Jake. You know how jealous he is.�

Everyone turned to look at him. �Look, on the way over, I started thinking.�

�Had to happen sooner or later,� Marco said in a loud whisper.

�Just tell me this,� Marco raged. �When do we get a vacation? I mean, Ben-Hur rowing that Roman galley while the guy whipped him and the other guy banged on that big drum got more down time than we do.�

�When do we get to shut you up?� Rachel interrupted. �When do we get to switch you off? I mean, good grief, Marco, you act like you something better to do. Before we became Animorphs, your entire day consisted of figuring out which girl to annoy next.�

Marco grinned. �And now I always know which girl to annoy next.�

Rachel calmly stuck out her arm and grabbed a handful of Marco�s hair. �What was that you said? I must not have heard correctly.�

�I refuse to answer on the grounds that you may tend to snatch me bald.�

�So basically everything is fine...We�re tens of millions of years in the past. We have no food except charred scraps of dinosaur-on-a-stick. There�s a river over there, but if we do go and get a drink, some monster crocodile will jump out and chomp us. We�re lost, which is fine, because let�s face it, we�re not exactly looking for the nearest Taco Bell, so who cares where we are? Plus, just to make things perfect, we�re wearing Tyrannosaurus skin sandals, which is going to really, really endear us to the next Big Rex we see.�

�Ah, Sean Connery. I thought you were doing Urkel,� Cassie teased.

�Marco is Urkel,� Rachel said.

You say war is tragic. I say, isn�t it crazy the way people will fight over nothing? People fight wars to control crappy little patches of empty desert, for crying out loud. It�s like fighting over an empty soda can. Asinine! Stupid!

You say, isn�t it terrible about global warming? And I say no, it�s funny. We�re going to bring on global warming because we ran too many leaky air conditioners? We used too much spray deodorant, so now we�ll be doomed to sweat forever. That�s not sad. That�s irony.

�...I asked him to tell me what it was like when we morphed trout. Just to test his memory.�

�And I answered that it wasn�t bad except that the cracker-crumb coating chafed a little and I was allergic to tartar sauce. Now can you all stop playing that game? I�m afraid I�ll miss a punch line and Rachel will morph to grizzly and eat me before I have a chance to say anything.�

<Marco, what exactly are you doing in the fondue?> Rachel asked.

<Exactly? Well...I wanted to see if it would still taste good sucked up through a fly mouth...>

<Let him get eaten,> Rachel advised.

�Maybe it�s all a dream,� Marco said, as if he�d been reading my thoughts. �In which case, I�d like to dream about a nice, ice-cold Coke.� He held out his hand, curved around an imaginary bottle. �Hmm. So much for the dream theory.�

<I�ve dripped!> Marco yelled. <I...Okay, I�m off Ax�s hands. I�m back on the surface of the chocolate. Near the edge. Don�t eat me! I�m serious: Do not eat me!>

<Well, I�m in a cockroach body, just fell out of the bottom of a spaceship belonging to brainstealing alien slugs while trying to save the president of the United States, was rescued by a girl who�s temporarily a bald eagle and a guy who�s permanently a red-tailed hawk...and yet, it all seems normal somehow. Like okay, that�s just to be expected.>

I should have just said �okay.� That�s what I should have said. What I did say to Rachel was, �Don�t condescend to me, oh mighty Xena. Just because I�m not a reckless idiot doesn�t mean I�m a wuss. I�ve never chickened out on a morph yet. And if Ax is in, so am I. You can hang around and be backup, Rachel. I�m going where the action is.�

To which Rachel replied with a very calm, �Okay.�

See, this is why guys and girls should not be in combat together. Because it�s much harder for a guy to be a coward when some girl is watching. Especially when she�s all gung ho. If it had just been Jake and Tobias, I�d have been weeping and groveling on the ground.

�Cold, man. The Marco dude? He was just cold.�

<Thank you,> Marco said. <We can�t run off on another idiot suicide mission without the blessings of the always insane Xena, Warrior Princess.>

�It was l-o-o-o-v-e,� Marco crowed, drawing the word out. �The deadly, dangerous emotion of puppy love. Rachel was overcome by attraction! By desire! By intense, uncontrollable Tiger Beat passion! And it-�

He was interrupted by the fact that I tried to grab him and choke him. But he dodged behind Ax.

�It turned her into a wild animal!� Marco yapped on. �Several wild animals, actually. She became the alligator of l-o-o-o-v-e!�

�It�s crocodile,� Jake said, smirking in a most un-Jakelike way...

�It�s so perfect...Mighty Xena has a weakness: human emotion. She�s a victim of l-o-o-o-v-e.�

Jake grabbed Marco�s arm and squeezed tight. �Marco, if you make her mad, she�ll morph. And if she starts morphing, she might end up in full grizzly bear. Do you really want Rachel mad at you and in grizzly bear morph?�

Marco hesitated. He glanced at me. He bit his lip. �I get your point, Jake. I think I�ll just go watch Tobias eat his mouse.�

�This food is blue. Food should not be blue. Hey, here�s a topic for you-the use of total bull in the writing of English papers.�

I grinned. �I am the master of bull. Three pages so far and I haven�t actually said a single thing.�

Marco said, <You know, Rachel, when you�re in fly morph, talking ruthlessly about guerrilla warfare, and force and surprise and all, I just find it so exciting, and yet disturbing. You know? Like a Britney Spears video with tanks.>

<Morph Rachel?> Marco trilled. <I�ll do it! I�ll do it!>

�When pigs fly.�

<Oh, man. Sixty-five million years? I thought it was just maybe six or seven million years. I was holding out hope that we�d find some primitive people. You know, like in that old movie, Quest for Fire? Only the babe tribe, not the hairy tribe. There would be this primitive tribe and because of my superior knowledge I would become their ruler.>

I was a few aisles over, in Hosiery. I looked slightly out of place. I could only hope that no one from school would spot me as I perused the racks of sheer-to-waist, sandal-foot taupe panty-hose.

That�s the kind of thing that stays with you in school.

�If you�re waiting to be made up, you can forget it,� I told the llama. �You�re not a big enough star.�

<Maybe not, but I will be someday,> the llama said.

�Yahah!� Cassie and I yelped. You�d think we, of all people, would be prepared for strange things like talking llamas. But it caught us totally by surprise.

�Marco?� I hissed.

�The first cooked food in all history,� Marco observed. �Plus the first complaint about food in all history...�

�Beautiful,� I said, mostly to myself.

�The first person in history to appreciate a sunset,� Marco said.

�How much longer do you figure you�ll be doing that, Marco?� Jake asked tolerantly.

Marco grinned...�The first person to ever complain about someone talking too much.�

�Erek, does the Yeerk pool have toilets?�

Marco shot a triumphant glance at Rachel. �See? Still think my idea is nuts?� His face darkened. �Wait a minute. It is nuts. What�s the matter with me? Am I insane?�

�I�m either honored or ticked off, I don�t know which,� Marco said hotly. Then, �Oh, wait, I do know which, and it�s not �honored.� �

�I just had a thought,� Marco said.

�I�ll buy you a card to commemorate the moment.�

�Well, that�s a relief...I wouldn�t want to get killed by a comet and cheat the dinosaurs out of eating me.�

�Right, the colors, whoa! Cool! Go away. We�re trying to figure out the space-time continuum here,� Marco snapped.

Then Marco, being Marco, told his teacher he had to rush out to put on one of those Nicoderm patches. �I�m trying to break the smoking habit!� he yelled. �Don�t stop me!�

Me? I�m a comedian.

Back to the Isle of One-Eyed Joe!

Email me!

Hosted by www.Geocities.ws