Totally Ridiculous Comedy: Jacks Nightclub

A fast-paced zany short story that will make you forget: what stress?

"I like nonsense - it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living. It's a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope... and that enables you to laugh at all of life's realities." - Dr. Seuss

Jack jumped over the electric blue fox - who was hunting down the orange cat - who was preying upon the stupid cockroach that was having an identity crisis - and believed he was a popular dragonfly down at the local Irish pub - because he sang Irish songs everyone loved and wrote some damn good poetry.

The orange cat circled back to chase the identity crisis cockroach - who just knew he was really Irish in a former life - while the blue fox preened and bathed in the fast-paced lights of the nightclub – this fox enthusiastically embraced blue as the new fashion neutral - it was Jack who was looking for the weird alien orange cat that kept eluding him - who was stalking the brave Irish-singing cockroach determined to make it to Broadway.

The powerful-singing cockroach drowned out the elegant Irish pub-singing dragonfly - and soon the people customers complained about the strange odd noises blaring from the rising platform – it was two ants standing on a leaf singing opera - and more ants joined them from the audience singing 49 Bottles of Guinness Beer on the Wall and Get Down Tonight! – and soon the nightclub was jumping and bumping - and the people were dancing and squishing and splatting the friendly ants - who got the place hopping on a Saturday night in the first place.

Jack jitter-bugged his way across the dance floor to catch what he just knew was really an alien from another planet – that stupid weird ugly orange cat – who was running for his life from Jack but still wanted to date that stupid cockroach – he loved his Irish-singing - but now was enamored with one of the leaf-standing opera-singing ants - as the orange cat was mesmerized with the awesome sounds that tasted like really good coffee flavored chocolate.

The leaf-standing opera-singing ant would have nothing to do with that ugly alien guy the orange cat – she was a self-respecting leaf-standing diva ant – didn’t he know that already? – she had a snobby reputation to uphold - and that hairy cat would ruin her image on the dance floor – she just knew she was going to get to Broadway before that stupid cockroach - and talented dragonfly who sang Irish ballads with love in his heart and wrote some damn good poetry.

The orange cat got a stinging burr up his butt - and decided it was time to high tail it out for New Mexico - who lured him with a sleazy wink to try his hand at living the life of a chipotle hot chili pepper - so he caught the first flight out - and on his travels he hit on the stewardess asking her about the Mile High Club – an oily request if there was room for his membership.

The rotund fast-blinking bald stewardess slapped his whiskered sleazy snout - secretly loving the attention - so people on the plane would know she was hotly pursued by one ugly pussy – and an hour later she changed her mind - and decided she just might take up with the alien hairy cat - if he would meet her in Wisconsin where they both could get legally married – have some kids with lots of hair - and become famous as the weirdest couple from two planets – but she decided maybe it was better to drink Guinness beer than be in the Guinness Book of Records - and ended the imaginary affair before the hairy alien wandering alley cat figured it out and jumped all over it – as one of the people passengers professed his undying love for her over 36 Gin Martinis – and he was a wealthy oil man from Texas - and could buy her all the wigs she could store in the closet he bought at an auction from the infamous Imelda Marcos that housed her thousands of shoes – and it sounded like a really good deal - so she gladly accepted the gargantuan ring from the oil man well-oiled with 36 Gin Martinis- and the pilot of the plane married them right then and there in the Mile High Club bathroom next to the “cock”pit.

When the plane landed the limo arrived for the well-oiled oil man and his new bald beaming wife - and the bald too-tall rail-thin limo driver fell in love with her immediately - and stupidly professed his undying loyalty to her as well - in front of his boss who didn’t seem to notice. The stewardess turned well-oiled oil wife was thrilled to be in good company with another bald man - and secretly they plotted to embezzle the funds from her husband’s account when he was well oiled with 36 Gin Martinis – which was every day exactly at noon until midnight - as it took quite a while to swill down 36 Gin Martinis - there was a real art to it - and it had to be done with great style - and properly dressed for dinner, the theatre and the after-hours nightclubs well before noon.

The well-oiled oil man was no fool - so he straightened his skewed bowtie and tucked in his shirt and ironed his wrinkled shoes - as he knew what they were plotting against him just like the last 16 wives had done - he was an old hand at this - but the bald driver and the new well-oiled oil wife did not know this - and he was ready with a plan of his own to foil them - as he knew the ugly alien orange cat - because Jack had chased him all the way over to the oil fields of the well-oiled oil man - who really could hold his liquor just fine, thank you, as he pretended to be drunk to see who was really loyal to him.

The alien orange cat begged the well-oiled oil man to help him get back to his mother ship waiting for him in Wisconsin - and promised to help the well-oiled oil man on the sly with screwing over his new wife and the limo driver – so he called up the Irish-singing cockroach and the opera-singing ant to come to the house of the well-oiled oil man next Thursday when he would be napping - and serenade the gullible driver and seduce the new bald wife who, frankly, would believe anybody. The Irish-singing cockroach and the opera-singing ant could not wait for their staged duel-duet - so they both eagerly arrived early on Wednesday - not really giving a damn if the well-oiled oil man was napping or not - as the show must go on because they were dedicated professionals.

As the singers sang their songs the ugly alien orange cat was once again mesmerized by the awesome sounds of the opera-singing ant - because her voice tasted like coffee flavored chocolate only stronger now with a roasted strong sniff this time - as he figured out she was hot for him - and so the opera-singing ant diva admitted he was an alien hottie to her - and she finally, violently, melodramatically, succumbed to his ugly hairy charms.

The well-oiled oil man watched from the dining room counting his money - and handed off the $200,000 to the alien orange cat for his part in the comedy act - as he and the hot little ant ran away to Wisconsin – because she wanted to be an exchange student for planet Earth – at least that’s what she told herself - because secretly she was thrilled to teach coffee flavored chocolate opera-singing to weird aliens - who would believe anything her ugly new love would tell them - and then they would make her queen of the planet - and she could live in the style to which she wanted to be accustomed for she was a leaf-standing opera-singing diva ant – as that is what it takes in life to get properly noticed and look bigger than life itself – and don’t you forget it!

The well-oiled oil man was smiling wide as he swilled Gin Martini number 31 - five more to go - when the blue fox came stumbling into the foyer - tripping over his armful of blue silk fabrics for the new drapes the fast-blinking rotund bald stewardess turned well-oiled oil man’s new wife had ordered from him - because she heard from the other trophy wives at the liposuction office that blue was the fashion season’s new neutral.

Jack rushed in and grabbed the preening blue fox by the throat - and demanded to know where the ugly alien orange cat has absconded while the well-oiled oil man smugly looked on - and then told Jack the alien had hit the lottery and was on his way to Wisconsin - to retire at a cheese factory overrun by plump mice wearing ninja ponytails - because he knew they would be a tough fight for a long time - and life was good when you had meaningful work - as that was the orange cat’s plan just in case the mother ship left without him.

Jack turned around and ran out of the house – not to chase that stupid alien cat any more – as anyone stupid enough to retire to a Wisconsin cheese factory populated by ninja ponytail-wearing mice was too stupid to chase - because it just goes to show he really was an alien - and Jack realized everyone would figure it out now - and it was time to go back home to his nightclub - as there were people to entertain and weirdo singers to book.

The blue fox trotted up to the guest bedroom to lie down - for all this excitement was too much for his asthma - and secretly he really wanted to live in that luxurious house - and was hoping no one would notice he had moved in - because under the armful of drapes was his suitcase - as he was sly as a fox after all and everyone was stupid but him. As he lay in his sumptuous bed – drifting beautifully up the curving stairs - he heard the Irish-singing cockroach break into song and what a heart-stirring song it was.

The identity crisis cockroach broke the spell upon the bald too-tall rail-thin limo driver and the bald gullible formerly rotund - now lipo-sucked - well-oiled oil wife so they saw the light - the light of truth - and declared their love openly to the well-oiled oil man who was well impressed - as the 36^th Gin Martini was seen sliding down his throat. The well-oiled oil man had pity on them - and handed them two million dollars from his emergency cash stash so they could run away and get married – since he and the wife were not legally married - as he forgot to divorce wife number lucky thirteen - years ago and he just never got around to telling the other ladies – or the limo driver who wasn’t real smart anyway.

The Irish-singing cockroach with an identity crisis finished his beautiful song - and everyone left in the house applauded so loudly that they could hear it all the way to Broadway. Well, the land line phone rang and it was his new agent who was a talent scout at Jack’s nightclub that night the ants brought the house down - and also heard him on the recording the well-oiled oil man swilling 36 Gin Martinis had uploaded and Twittered to him via satellite phone just seconds ago so he could listen live. The well-oiled oil man gifted the soon to be famous Irish-singing cockroach some cash stash of his own - and sent him on his way with the preening blue fox as his tailor in a private jet to Broadway.

When the house was quiet and the well-oiled oil man was finally alone he whispered up to the ceiling for his friend – the fly on the wall chuckling at the comedy of life – it was time to go out to Jack’s nightclub - for that featured poetry reading from the popular dragonfly who sang Irish songs everyone loved and wrote some damn good poetry.

Denny Lyon

Copyright 23 June 2009

All Rights Reserved

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(Hub #51)