I was sitting around the house one day being really, really bored and trying to think of something exciting to do. I was in my recliner, the one that swivels. I’ve gotten so used to the swiveling motion that whenever I sit in a non-swiveling recliner now, I constantly struggle against its restraining lack of rotational movement until I’ve worked myself into a frenzy. Finally I stand up and start cursing at the chair at the top of my lungs, shaking my finger violently at it and kicking the footrest. This has gotten me thrown out of several furniture stores over the years.

Anyway, I was sitting there swiveling back and forth, as first one wall and then the other filled my vision. One wall featured a large, ornately-framed portrait of “Pop” Frankenstein, the jovial old man who ran the malt shop where all of us teens used to hang out back in the old days. Frankenstein’s Malt Shoppe isn’t there anymore, of course–it was torn down in ’72 to make way for a fancy clinic where they use lasers to remove zits from the buttocks of Hollywood celebrities. The walls lining the entryway boast a parade of autographed portraits of Hollywood celebrity buttocks that they’ve handled over the years, including Rosie O’Donnell, who has a separate photo for each buttock. I tried to get treated there once, but they said my buttocks weren’t famous enough. So I pulled my pants up and stormed right outta there. I’ll get the last laugh, though–someday they’ll be on their knees begging me to let them handle my celebrity buttocks.

The wall next to the one I like to call “The ‘Pop’ Frankenstein Wall” sports all my gold records which I have won during my career as a world-famous recording artist. Actually, there aren’t any there yet, but there will be as soon as some record company is smart and insightful enough to record that song I wrote in honor of famed CNN talk show host Larry King, which, in my opinion, is destined to become the number one hit of all time. It goes like this:


Once, while Larry King was flyin’ around
With his jet-propelled rocket pack, high o’er the ground
-He could see the Wolf Man from his aerial position
Sneaking up behind some guys who were fishin’.

Larry King’s Spidey-sense was activated
Battling monsters kept him motivated
Quick as a flash, he swooped onto the scene
Just as the Wolf Man ate Charlie Sheen.

In the next split second, Larry King did mourn
To avenge Charlie Sheen, his next mission was born
As the Wolf Man approached the remaining victim
Rescuing him was Larry’s new dictum.

From the corner of his eye, Larry King started glimpsin’
The other guy’s face–it was O.J. Simpson
It seems he’d grown tired of football and golfin’
And was currently trying to reel in a dolphin.

Suddenly, almost, not quite but nearly
Larry began to see it all clearly
O.J. and Wolf Man together had planned
To eliminate Charlie Sheen from our land.

And now, as the Wolf Man devoured the corpus
And O.J. continued to fish for a porpoise
From out of the sky, like a vulture on wing
Came the force for revenge known as Larry King.

The Wolf Man attacked, but Larry was faster
A skip to the left averted disaster
Then O.J. let loose with a swing of his pole
Which Larry King dodged with a shoulder roll.

Again came the Wolf Man, this time with a leap
As O.J. retreated and hopped in his Jeep
But Larry, quick-witted, reached into his crotch
And pulled out a silver-trimmed flask full of scotch.

The Wolf Man got drunk as he gulped it all down
While O.J. peeled out–he was headed for town
So Larry bent over and lit a huge fart
The resulting explosion was right off the chart.

The engine and paint job were fried in the fire
As the terrible heat quickly melted each tire
And O.J.’s clothing, of course, was consumed
So naked he fled, to avoid being doomed.

He jumped in the water, and splashed like a guppy
While the Wolf Man, sloshed, danced around like a puppy
And Larry stood back with a satisfied smile
For all was now well–well, at least for awhile.

Then they all fished for dolphins, till each of them scored
They saddled them up, to avoid getting bored
And they rode them away ‘neath the dawn’s early bling
O.J., the Wolf Man, and Larry King.

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