Silly, Montana;
When you enter the town of silly montana you will notice that the citizens are all very happy. Everyone is smiling, shaking hands with strangers, waving, squirting eachother with plastic flowers that are pinned to their lapels..."what?" you may ask yourself, "plastic flowers pinned to their lapels? What an odd concept.." Sounds to me like you haven't ever been there then. You see, this is not an uncommon occurance in silly montana, along with random acts of mimeness, riding unicycles, wearing big floppy red shoes or even a rainbow wig. Yes, silly montana is a community founded by the great Marcel Marceau back while he was doing some secret study work for the french resistance in the 1940's. Yes, that's right, Marcel worked as a french spy. Why ? Because he was a fucking mime !!! What better spy can you ask for than someone who doesn't ever talk ? For about 20 years no-one in the town of silly talked, in keeping with the proud tradition of their founder, but then someone needed to buy some whoopie cushions from the next town over and found it very difficult to have someone understand you when you are miming over the phone, so the townsfolk of silly started talking again. Ahem...that was a little side bar, sorry. The happiest and most silly citizen of silly montana is not a citizen at all, but is actually a car. "his" real name, given to "him" by his owner, the original bozo the clown - is el camino d'amore, but his friends call him "ocho" because of the "53" 's painted on his hood and doors. His personal favorite had always been the red, white and blue stripe running down his hood - because even if he was made in mexico, he was proud to be american. On any given day you could see ocho toodling down the street beeping at people while going about the daily chores any car would. Then, one day Mr. Bigggggg from the corporate office of tourism for montana decided to visit silly to see why this town was the only one not paying protection money to him to make sure that hordes of busses filled with half dead geriatric tourists weren't coincidentally set to converge on them. As he stepped out of his shiny white cadillac into the main street of silly, he was hit right in the face by a pie errantly tossed by someone participating in the daily public cream pie fight. Wiping the banana creme from his eyes and mouth, and gingerly blowing his nose he walked over to the nearest person expecting fully to grab them by the lapels and intimidate them since everybody knew who he was but was again suprised and injured as his foot was run over accidentally by one of those really silly bikes from the 1890's with the huge front tire & the teeny tiny back tire. The cyclist looked back over his shoulder, freshly waxed walrus mustache quivering anxiously, " sorry old chap ! didn't see you there I'm afraid, better luck next time! " he called out as his silouette disappeared over a hill. "what the fuck is this ?", Mr. Bigggggggggg asked himself, bewildered. Not realizing he was still standing in the middle of the daily public pie fight, he got hit again by a chocolate pudding pie which, due to consistancy slowly slid off of his face. Just then, he heard the alarm on his caddy go off, and turning around saw the most horrific sight in his life: el camino d'amore had mounted his brand new cadillac and was preceeding to hump it against a brick wall crumpling the front bumper and crushing the grill of the cadillac in the process. Not that the caddy really cared, but that's a different story. Mr. Biggggg started to run towards his precious car when all of a sudden He thought he heard his name being shouted from a nearby rooftop. He thought nothing of it at first and continued towards the copulating cars when he felt a very artistic and quiet hand on his shoulder, which swung him around so violently he fell to the ground. Looking up, all he saw was a sillouette of a man staring down at him. The man started moving and Mr. Bigggggg finally saw who it was: THE GREAT, FABULOUS MARCEL MARCEAU HIMSELF !!! Marcel started to move around, and at first Mr. Bigggggggg thought he was going to get a thourough ass whooping from a makeup laden dead french clown but gradually realized that he wasn't going to get beat.. physically at least. "Yes Mr. Bigggggg you are hearing my voice,but only you can hear what I am saying, you see, I am projecting my voice into your brain thru the use of an ancient mime technique taught to me by buddist clowns during my travels thru tibet while tracking nazi's for the french resistance." Mr. Bigggg could only sit and gawk at what he was, or thought he was hearing. He heard Marcel's voice once again, " Mr. Bigggg...Melvin...Bigggg, Leave this town, my town....you will never come back here again...you will leave your car here and will just run if you know what is good for you." Mr. Melvin Bigggggg opened his mouth to say "or what??" but heard the response almost instantaneously, " Melvin...have you ever seen someone quietly driven insane by watching someone acting like they were trapped in a small box, trying to walk in a windstorm or pulling on a big rope attached to a very large and heavy object ? It's not pretty. " Mr. Big thought for a moment about the vacant stares and drooling that his henchmen had suddenly taken up as very involved hobbies after visiting silly and shivered. Even though he was being threatened, Mr. Bigg couldn't help but notice that Marcel sounded, paused and acted almost exactly like william shatner...Coincidence ? Perhaps. "this isn't coincidence, for you see....HE WAS ONCE A STUDENT OF MINE !!!! " marcel exclaimed in Mr. Biggggggg's head. Mr. Big looked at him for a second incredulously like " is that all you've got ? " ..."NOT ENOUGH ? " , Marcel exclaimed, "OK...HE'S ALSO...UH....crap...MY STEP COUSIN ON MY MOTHER'S SIDE !!! OOOOOOOOOOHHH!! (like a scary ghost sound)"..with this Marcel started to mime like he had little shaky flipper hands insinuating being scared. "ok ok ok I'm going !!! Geeeeze.", Mr. Biggggg got up and started to walk towards the bus depot at the end of town hoping it wouldn't be too silly cause frankly he'd had enough of that shit to last him for the rest of his life. Watching his form fade into the distance, Marcel stood, arms akimbo as the citizens of silly montana gathered around him, having concluded their pie fight just recently. "he is gone my sons and daughters .. your town is now safe once again", Marcel mime-beamed into the clowns heads. One clown stepped forward, and bending on one knee asked " oh great father Marcel, what were we not safe from ? when did this start exactly ? ". "ugggg never mimed" Marcel beamed, and, after posing like a super hero about to fly away, put his hands in his pockets and walked over to the closest store to do some shopping. The citizens of silly montana collectively shrugged their shoulders which created a huge din of noise as the various noise makers in the clowns pockets all made sound at the same time. Everybody laughed and then the credits rolled, after that the usher came over and told you to get the hell out so he can clean the theatre so you go into another auditorium. Oh god, they are playing Police academy 22: go watch another movie; so you decide to go home & get some sleep.
When you enter the town of silly montana you will notice that the citizens are all very happy. Everyone is smiling, shaking hands with strangers, waving, squirting eachother with plastic flowers that are pinned to their lapels..."what?" you may ask yourself, "plastic flowers pinned to their lapels? What an odd concept.." Sounds to me like you haven't ever been there then. You see, this is not an uncommon occurance in silly montana, along with random acts of mimeness, riding unicycles, wearing big floppy red shoes or even a rainbow wig. Yes, silly montana is a community founded by the great Marcel Marceau back while he was doing some secret study work for the french resistance in the 1940's. Yes, that's right, Marcel worked as a french spy. Why ? Because he was a fucking mime !!! What better spy can you ask for than someone who doesn't ever talk ? For about 20 years no-one in the town of silly talked, in keeping with the proud tradition of their founder, but then someone needed to buy some whoopie cushions from the next town over and found it very difficult to have someone understand you when you are miming over the phone, so the townsfolk of silly started talking again. Ahem...that was a little side bar, sorry. The happiest and most silly citizen of silly montana is not a citizen at all, but is actually a car. "his" real name, given to "him" by his owner, the original bozo the clown - is el camino d'amore, but his friends call him "ocho" because of the "53" 's painted on his hood and doors. His personal favorite had always been the red, white and blue stripe running down his hood - because even if he was made in mexico, he was proud to be american. On any given day you could see ocho toodling down the street beeping at people while going about the daily chores any car would. Then, one day Mr. Bigggggg from the corporate office of tourism for montana decided to visit silly to see why this town was the only one not paying protection money to him to make sure that hordes of busses filled with half dead geriatric tourists weren't coincidentally set to converge on them. As he stepped out of his shiny white cadillac into the main street of silly, he was hit right in the face by a pie errantly tossed by someone participating in the daily public cream pie fight. Wiping the banana creme from his eyes and mouth, and gingerly blowing his nose he walked over to the nearest person expecting fully to grab them by the lapels and intimidate them since everybody knew who he was but was again suprised and injured as his foot was run over accidentally by one of those really silly bikes from the 1890's with the huge front tire & the teeny tiny back tire. The cyclist looked back over his shoulder, freshly waxed walrus mustache quivering anxiously, " sorry old chap ! didn't see you there I'm afraid, better luck next time! " he called out as his silouette disappeared over a hill. "what the fuck is this ?", Mr. Bigggggggggg asked himself, bewildered. Not realizing he was still standing in the middle of the daily public pie fight, he got hit again by a chocolate pudding pie which, due to consistancy slowly slid off of his face. Just then, he heard the alarm on his caddy go off, and turning around saw the most horrific sight in his life: el camino d'amore had mounted his brand new cadillac and was preceeding to hump it against a brick wall crumpling the front bumper and crushing the grill of the cadillac in the process. Not that the caddy really cared, but that's a different story. Mr. Biggggg started to run towards his precious car when all of a sudden He thought he heard his name being shouted from a nearby rooftop. He thought nothing of it at first and continued towards the copulating cars when he felt a very artistic and quiet hand on his shoulder, which swung him around so violently he fell to the ground. Looking up, all he saw was a sillouette of a man staring down at him. The man started moving and Mr. Bigggggg finally saw who it was: THE GREAT, FABULOUS MARCEL MARCEAU HIMSELF !!! Marcel started to move around, and at first Mr. Bigggggggg thought he was going to get a thourough ass whooping from a makeup laden dead french clown but gradually realized that he wasn't going to get beat.. physically at least. "Yes Mr. Bigggggg you are hearing my voice,but only you can hear what I am saying, you see, I am projecting my voice into your brain thru the use of an ancient mime technique taught to me by buddist clowns during my travels thru tibet while tracking nazi's for the french resistance." Mr. Bigggg could only sit and gawk at what he was, or thought he was hearing. He heard Marcel's voice once again, " Mr. Bigggg...Melvin...Bigggg, Leave this town, my town....you will never come back here again...you will leave your car here and will just run if you know what is good for you." Mr. Melvin Bigggggg opened his mouth to say "or what??" but heard the response almost instantaneously, " Melvin...have you ever seen someone quietly driven insane by watching someone acting like they were trapped in a small box, trying to walk in a windstorm or pulling on a big rope attached to a very large and heavy object ? It's not pretty. " Mr. Big thought for a moment about the vacant stares and drooling that his henchmen had suddenly taken up as very involved hobbies after visiting silly and shivered. Even though he was being threatened, Mr. Bigg couldn't help but notice that Marcel sounded, paused and acted almost exactly like william shatner...Coincidence ? Perhaps. "this isn't coincidence, for you see....HE WAS ONCE A STUDENT OF MINE !!!! " marcel exclaimed in Mr. Biggggggg's head. Mr. Big looked at him for a second incredulously like " is that all you've got ? " ..."NOT ENOUGH ? " , Marcel exclaimed, "OK...HE'S ALSO...UH....crap...MY STEP COUSIN ON MY MOTHER'S SIDE !!! OOOOOOOOOOHHH!! (like a scary ghost sound)"..with this Marcel started to mime like he had little shaky flipper hands insinuating being scared. "ok ok ok I'm going !!! Geeeeze.", Mr. Biggggg got up and started to walk towards the bus depot at the end of town hoping it wouldn't be too silly cause frankly he'd had enough of that shit to last him for the rest of his life. Watching his form fade into the distance, Marcel stood, arms akimbo as the citizens of silly montana gathered around him, having concluded their pie fight just recently. "he is gone my sons and daughters .. your town is now safe once again", Marcel mime-beamed into the clowns heads. One clown stepped forward, and bending on one knee asked " oh great father Marcel, what were we not safe from ? when did this start exactly ? ". "ugggg never mimed" Marcel beamed, and, after posing like a super hero about to fly away, put his hands in his pockets and walked over to the closest store to do some shopping. The citizens of silly montana collectively shrugged their shoulders which created a huge din of noise as the various noise makers in the clowns pockets all made sound at the same time. Everybody laughed and then the credits rolled, after that the usher came over and told you to get the hell out so he can clean the theatre so you go into another auditorium. Oh god, they are playing Police academy 22: go watch another movie; so you decide to go home & get some sleep.
hrlyquinn:
