Monterey HiJack

I celebrated the first day of September this year by tossing down a few at Think-A-Holic Lounge before moseying on down to the Lebenty Leben for a brick of Monterey Jack cheese. I love eating Monterey Jack with just about anything, especially if there's a dill pickle involved.

My brain was full of think-a-hol and happy thoughts when I suddenly remembered that my supply of Monterey Jack cheese always seems to disappear before I ever get to finish that last little hunk snugly wrapped up in the plastic wrapper. I also realized that this crap had been going on all summer long and that I'd better find out why before other things started disappearing from my fridge as well.

Well, I didn't have to think about it for very long. When I got home from the Lebenty Leben I caught this little yellow goober (see pic) pilfering my last hunk of Monterey Jack cheese while humming the theme song from Star Wars.

He said his name was YipYup and that he was from the planet Urbane, in a neighboring solar system. When I asked him why he'd been stealing my Monterey Jack cheese he glibly replied that he, and all other Urbanians, simply had a right to do so.

That made me think about another bunch of little celestial visitors who often say the same thing about snatching anything they want off planet Earth and that got my dander up. And that's when I tossed this YipYup's alien butt out of the house. He landed hard enough that he'll think twice before grazing around here again.

Thus, I not only defended my home against future grazing aliens, I helped make the world's Monterey Jack cheese supply safe from alien raiders for many generations yet to come.

Stalking the Wild Think-A-Holic

After finding a sleeping old man in the alley outside of Think-A-Holic Lounge one night a couple months ago (for some background, see the Lost in Translation posting) and then finding a frog in his place a few nights after that (see the Froggy Night posting), I finally came to the conclusion that I'm being followed. Yessir, that's it. I'm being stalked by a shape-shifter or something from another world or maybe another realm.

Further proving this theory, I stumbled onto the old bum again last night (see pic), that same, weird, old codger who sleeps sitting up and with his eyes wide open. Last night, it was exactly the stroke of midnight, Betelgeuse Time, when I happened onto the aging oddball, after stumbling down the front steps. And there he was, loitering on the same bench, but under the bright streetlight this time. I was high on think-a-hol, of course.

When I spotted the crazy old coot, I didn't even hesitate to take a snapshot of him with my trusty cell-phone camera or to approach him this time or to engage him in polite conversation. I figured if he was a real shape-shifter he wouldn't be able to stand the kindness. Also, I thought I'd try speaking to him in Spanish this time, just to throw the old curmudgeon off balance. Just to see if he'd try to run another language game on me.

"Oye," I said to him as he sat there pretending to ignore me, "que pasa?"

"Sorry, buddy," the weird old jasper said in a tired, jaded voice, "I don't speak Italian."

It's Spanish, Pops, I thought to myself, not Italian. Then the old guy's image began to waver and fade. I thought about running but I held my ground, totally transfixed on the otherworldly scene before me. Then high-pitched laughter could be heard coming from his fading form just before he vanished altogether.

Naturally, I went back inside the Lounge for another shot of think-a-hol and a bubby chaser which I nursed quietly in a corner booth until last call.