The Book of Not: The Book of the Blue Plymouth: Lynchian Proportions

But there were no women.

"Hey everybody!" Mikey offered and they all applauded loudly. This began to make Mikey feel a bit less uncomfortable. He began to tell really bad and off-color jokes. Everyone seemed to like them though, even Clarence Thomas (who really wanted to burst out-loud laughing but felt it was better not to) and kept on drinking his coca-cola.

All of the sudden, seagulls jumped out the the cracks in the wood flooring and began to sing Christmas Carols to him. It was a strangely familiar tune, but it was perverted in a sing-gong way, like he was underwater. And the words were all wrong. Everything got washed out in the tide and he felt like he was in a fish bowl.

"We're the wiggly-wums!" they cheered and started marching in a very hap-hazardly fashion toward Mikey.

"wum wum wum wum
sin sin sin
Mikey took the mescaline
sin sin sin sin
Mikey took the mescaline
sin sin sin
Wiggly-wum
wiggly-wum
Wiggly-wum
Wiggly-wum"

Then he realized that he was naked. This was REALLY embarrassing, but no one seemed to notice him. He tried to call for help but they ignored him as he got swept away by the blue tide.

The birds picked Mikey up by the buttocks and threw him into a kiddy pool that was placed on stage right. He made a big *KERSPLASH* and then sunk underneath the water line. While he was underwater he thought he heard someone laugh at him, but he couldn't see who it was. Everything was peaceful and then it all faded to white. He let it go.

A blue car came by and hit him on the head and he lurched his head up quickly so that he could get some air. He got to the surface and coughed up 1.5 litres of Poland Spring water and the took a long, surveying look at the beach. There was someone lying down on the beach on a big towel next to a big American modeled car - he couldn't make out who it was or the license plate. He waived but the person didn't notice. So he just floated with the tide, floating on top of the waves...up and down.

It started to snow so he swam towards the shore. He finally reached the shoreline by stepping onto a rock which had "1492" carved into the side with a chisel. The chisel lay on top of the rock and had turned blue with age. It didn't look healthy. When he got there the person had been replaced by a giant crab named Buster. "Whurv yew bin thair, boy!" drawled Buster in the most Georgian accent Mikey had ever heard. "Yew look like SHEE-IT."

"Everyone left... I don't know... I can't find myself. I looked. And I think I hit my head on the rear axle - or the muffler. I can't tell from the bump...they all leave the same kind of bruise.", replied Mikey, confused beyond belief.

"Well...in thayit cays," and Buster opened up his shell and served himself with a side of rosette sauce ona bed of kale.

Mikey just laid there on the beach half in the water. He looked up at the plastered ceiling made of clouds and studied the shadows and details. He made maps of the roads to New Jersey and New York in the sand. Some loud people came along and pushed him back into the water. As he floated back out to sea, he heard them cheering "We love you, Mikey."

Mikey woke up to a very funny feeling in his underwear (yes, Malkavians wear underwear - Garaminals to be exact). The biker chick was making fried eggs for breakfast. Mikey rolled over so she wouldn't notice. "You make a lot of noise while you sleep," she said seductively. Mikey was too stunned to say anything "Let's see if you can make as much noise while you're awake." She unzipped her nightgown and revealed a black push-up bra and garter belt with stockings. Mikey pointed magnetic north as they embraced passionately. She opened her mouth and french-kissed him deeply and then...

Mikey woke again. Except the biker chick was still passed-out, with a very large bump on her forehead.

Once again, for Mikey, unlife sucked.

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