Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Musical Methadone & Mental Masterbation - Volume 20

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Again we find ourself at the doorway to the Headquarters of the Pink Mafia {PMHQ} where everyone's favorite super villain turned super hero, Superdaddyman embarks on another day of deep cover and infiltration. He is greeted at the door by his most prized Capo who has grave news as it pertains to one of the missions that the Superdaddyman must partake while defending the poor unsuspecting citizenry of Megalopolis from tyranny and despair. The song that simply will not leave the Superdaddyman's mind as he is wandering around aimlessly “You're looking for some dirt .. I'm lifting up my skirt .. I'm searching for a light under me in my purse .. You always think the worst .. I just wanna flirt” rings on no matter what he does. The appropriate Methadone to eradicate this addiction to “Flirt” has not been acquired, so he simply does what most martyrs of our time does and deals with it despite that fact that singing those lyrics makes people wonder a little more than usual.

“There is a tour coming through today, so they need you to get the floors all dry,” was the top secret code that was uttered to the Superdaddyman as his badge swiped the time clock, but his keen intellect de-scrambled that code immediately. For those of you who do not have the amazing code deciphering abilities of the Superdaddyman, it gets translated into this, “The people who buy the asphalt underlayments that we overcharge them for because they are guaranteed to stop any and all leaks are coming in to tour the facility, and you need to mop up all of the rivers that are forming on the floors from the 7 bazillion leaks in OUR roof!” This is common practice whenever there is snow on the roof, after all, so it is a 3 or 4 times a year event. Some crime families make the bodies disappear, this one simply eliminates evidence. No matter, since the Superdaddyman is after all a trained professional!

Of course this has to come after the Superdaddyman goes across to PMHQ North to scrub the dirt out from under the toilets. There had been a lot of complaints about it and the Superdaddyman was clueless as to what they were talking about until he got across the street and got down on his hands and knees in front of the toilet and could barely see dirt under the bowl. It was apparent that the Upper Godfather types of the Pink Mafia must have had one of “those” types of parties over the weekend which led to time spent on their hands and knees in front of the toilet. Mind you, that you don't have to be a Caped Pervader to realize that it perhaps isn't a great idea to let on that you were kneeling in front of the toilet enough to notice minute traces of dirt, but as the Superdaddyman was forced to lay down on the floor with his head under the toilet bowl to really scope out the situation, he realized there are far worse things to admit! “You found me on my knees .. Next thing you're saying "tease" .. I'm trying to find my phone and my keys, not your sleaze .. My spell is like a curse .. I just wanna flirt” .. Oh God kill me with that f*cking song!

With the underneath of the Royal Thrones scrubbed and polished it was back to PMHQ Southern to start on the never ending quest to keep floors that are basically being rained on dry, and try to conceive of a plan to at least make the place look like the products we make work, for the love of God. This is nearly impossible with the blaring noise of the Pussycat Dolls also filling the crowded space between the Superdaddyman’s ears. Feeble attempts to mop even the smallest of areas is filling mop bucket upon mop bucket as the rivers had been forming for days and the constant “drip .. drip .. drip .. drip” wasn't going anywhere until the 3 feet of snow on the roof was completely gone anyway. That was when it hit the Superdaddyman like that skirt the one bank teller wears even in the snow! What we need to do here is take the mark lift up into the rafters and wire the asphalt pails underneath the drips! It would take at least 48 hours to fill one of those and that would buy us the time necessary to get past the impending tour.

After getting up off the floor, from an unfortunate balance and wet floor issue we almost overlooked, {damn honesty} the Superdaddyman made his way out to the machine shop to get the scissor lift from the locked storage area. As most of you know, the Superdaddyman had lost his “key privileges” due to a misunderstanding that involved a welder and a set of chair wheels, but the Superdaddyman has since learned how to pick that lock with a paper clip. Since nobody actually talks to each other in a mob environment and simply plots against each other everyone simply assumes that someone else gave the Superdaddyman a key. What fun would it be to tell them all the truth anyway? The keys to the scissor lift were left on the deck of it like they always are so the Superdaddyman was off and running. The lyrics in his head instantly changed too! “Get your motor runnin' .. Head out on the highway .. Lookin' for adventure .. And whatever comes our way .. Yeah Darlin' go make it happen .. Take the world in a love embrace .. Fire all of your guns at once .. And explode into space” and it never ceases to amaze even the Superdaddyman how impressionable and easily amused he actually is. We are after all talking about 3 mph of adrenaline pumping machinery here as the Superdaddyman drives past everyone doing the Princess Diana wave, and getting the Massachusetts State Bird thrown back at him.

Under the first good sized leak the Superdaddyman gets the first bucket secured using bailing wire, but the “ping .. ping .. ping .. ping” echoes throughout the whole plant. This isn't exactly a good thing either so the Superdaddyman starts thinking about what he should do to deaden the noise to which he hadn't thought of {you try and be a Super Hero and see how well YOU keep up damnit!} and his eyes spotted the rolls of waste material. “Aha! That's just what needs to be in the bottom of these buckets!” the Superdaddyman thought to himself and all around could tell by the sound of Pop Rocks and Pepsi coming from the Superdaddybrain. The trust tin snips come out and pieces of fabric are mad bucket sized as the Superdaddyman continued to load up all the buckets around the warehouse. He went back to the original bucket to see how much water it had accumulated as the “ping .. ping .. ping .. ping” had long since subsided, while his trusty Capo had most of the floor at least looking washed as apposed to flooded.

At the original location of the plan, the Superdaddyman looks inside of the 5 gallon bucket to see about a half a gallon of water in it. It probably won't last the night, but the Superdaddyman concedes that it will at least last long enough to get that tour through here. If it doesn't then it comes to an issue of not fixing the damn roof to begin with, and at least the Superdaddyman tried. He was staring into the bucket wondering if he should dump it just so that it would have another couple of hours of life in it as it is the fastest leak, and that was when the diabolical Paco Taco was walking by fresh off of a visit to the Smoke Shack. Decision made, as we still have a bit of a Talc payback to deal with .. Muahahahaha ;8o)

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Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, fuck ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

All writings Copyright © 2007

Jeremy Fink and The Crow's Nest