The dog days of August had settled in over
Casa Lesbo. It was hot. It was sticky. It was disgustingly
fishy. The intense heat had obviously begun to affect the
minds of those residing in Casa Lesbo. Worst hit was Barbie.
She felt that there just weren’t enough people in her
life, so she decided to add another member to the cast of
Casa Lesbo. Enter Abdul, the foreign exchange student from
some little known terrorist haven in the Middle East.
The photograph that accompanied Little Abdul’s introductory
letter from Sally Struthers bore a very strong resemblance
to the man responsible for the Pan Am bombing. Godzilla immediately
vowed to place her scales on alert and wear full battle armor
at all times. Ken somehow found this very comforting. He would
be able to sleep at night knowing that Godzilla and her armada
would always be close at hand in the event of any terrorist
activity.
Little Abdul arrived with a tent in one hand and the Koran
in the other. The entire cast turned out to greet him. “Hello
Abdul, my name is Skipper, and this is Barbie, and Ken, and
Godzilla. We’re all very pleased to meet you and so
happy that you’ll be staying with us here in America.”
“Yes, OK.” Replied Abdul. “Did you enjoy
the trip over?” “Yes, OK.” “Can I
get you something to drink?” “Yes, OK.”
“Is there anything you need?” “Yes, OK.”
The pattern was becoming quite obvious. “Well here,
let me show you your room.” “Yes, OK.”
Little Abdul spoke no English, thus the purpose of his visit.
He had come to America, and hence Casa Lesbo, to learn English.
He would undoubtedly be the man to pen the threat letters
and ransom notes in the future. Skipper decided that she would
provide special tutoring to little Abdul. He was going to
outshine every student in his class and be a gem among terrorists.
A few hours later, Ken could hear Skipper as she set out on
her first lesson in English with little Abdul. “OK,
now this is a spoon. Can you say that?” “Yes,
OK.” “No, say spoon. This is a spoon.” “Yes,
OK.” “No, no, no! Spoon! Say Spoon, dammit!”
“Yes, OK dammit!” Funny how those words always
seem to stick in any language. In no time at all Abdul had
memorized several key phrases. Repeat after me… “Pass
me a spoon, dammit! Where’s the damn milk? This cereal
sucks!” And most importantly “Would you like a
cupcake?” “Hell yes!”
Meanwhile Godzilla was in the basement sharpening her battle
gear. She was convinced that Abdul’s army would attack
at any moment, and she had to be prepared. The whir of the
axe grinder occasionally interrupted Skipper’s tutoring
sessions. Every now and then the smell of polish would waft
up from the caves below and permeate the air. Godzilla lived
for battle, and she savored the taste of blood. Ken could
tell from the erectness of her scales that she was quite excited.
He knew it was not safe to consume tuna within a ten mile
radius of the beast, and opted for temporary vegetarianism,
just to be safe. “Skipper, would you or Abdul like a
little tofu patty to snack on?” Ken asked politely.
“Hell no, dammit!” replied Abdul. His lessons
were coming along just fine. Skipper marveled at her little
star’s quick response. “Isn’t he doing swell?”
She said. “Hell yes, dammit!” Replied Ken.
Along with the smell of polish, there was another smell occasionally
wafting into the galley. It was quite foul, somewhere between
festering crab and three-day old, tepid sushi. “What
in the HELL is that?” Skipper inquired. “Wow!
You smell it too? I thought it was just me. God, it smells
like something died!” Replied Ken. “We’ve
really gotta check that out. We’re all gonna asphyxiate
pretty soon if we don’t get rid of it!” “Let’s
borrow some of Godzilla’s combat gear, just in case.
You never know, it could be contagious!” Said Skipper.
“Good idea. You finish up your lesson with Abdul and
I’ll go get the gear.” Replied Ken.
Godzilla was more than happy to provide Ken with the gear
he needed. When she offered to command the expedition, Ken
gladly accepted. Who better to take the lead than a 7-ton,
scaled beast possessing the ability to fire photon torpedoes
from her breasts on demand. Skipper and Ken would be quite
safe. “C’mon soldier! Let’s go pick up the
rest of the troops!” Godzilla ordered, and Ken followed
along behind, taking care to avoid tripping over her enormous
tail. They rendezvoused with Skipper in the galley. She had
finished her lesson with Abdul and carefully stowed her pupil
in the overhead compartments. Skipper donned her gear carefully,
taking care not to embed her curlers into her skull with her
helmet. “Ready troops? Let’s move ‘em out!”
Ordered Godzilla. “Yes, Sir, Madam Godzilla!”
Replied Skipper and Ken in unison. The commandos moved out.
Godzilla began by sniffing the perimeter of the galley, then
moving inward in concentric circles. “This room is clear.”
Godzilla announced. “But I detect a bit of foul odor
coming from down the hall. Follow me, and man your odorizers!”
The team moved out of the galley and down the hall. Their
odorizers were set on stun. Godzilla, nose high in the air
and following the scent, led the way. Skipper and Ken were
close behind, wondering how they would ever be able to consume
a cupcake through all of their headgear.
“Over here! I think it’s coming from this direction!
I’m going in!” Shouted Godzilla as she turned
towards the lavatory. “No, wait…it’s coming
from over here, too!” She said as she spun the opposite
direction towards…little Abdul’s room. “My
God! It’s surrounding us! The scent is coming from two
directions and surrounding us! This is going to be trickier
than I originally suspected. All right, we’re gonna
have to split up. I’ll take the lavatory, Skipper and
Ken, you take Abdul’s room! Move out! Call out if you
encounter enemy forces!”
The team split up accordingly. “Holy Shit!” Shouted
Godzilla from the lavatory. She immediately radioed Skipper
and Ken. “This is the most disgusting thing I’ve
ever smelled! How about you guys…you found anything
yet?” “No, we’re still looking.” Due
to their lack of ampulae, Skipper and Ken would have to rely
solely on their combined olfactory senses. Unlike Godzilla,
they did not have a sixth sense. They sniffed about, here
and there, bobbing about the room. Eventually they homed in
on the source of the odor. It was coming from underneath little
Abdul’s bed. “What the hell do you suppose it
is? If it’s his laundry he needs some serious Tide action!”
Said Ken. “No, it doesn’t smell like laundry.
There’s a carbon compound in it somewhere…I can
smell it! It was once and still may be alive.” Ken was
quite impressed by Skipper’s sudden expertise of the
periodic table. “Lift up the bedspread, I’ll cover
you!” Ordered Skipper as she armed her odorizer. Ken,
being the gentle subservient that he is, was in no position
to argue. “OK, here we go!” He said as he threw
back the bedspread and exposed the floor beneath the bed.
The sudden rush of toxic odors pushed the team to the floor.
Skipper cried out in agony as her curlers simultaneously misfired.
She dropped her odorizer without firing a single shot, leaving
Ken in a cloud of toxic vapor. Ken luckily was able to fire
his own odorizer in time to avoid any permanent damage. Skipper
struggled to reach the emergency depressurization button on
the side of her helmet. The sudden gush of air from her head
signaled her success. “What the hell was that?!”
Shouted Skipper. “I don’t know. You need to reset
your helmet so we can move in for a closer look.” Skipper
did as instructed. The team lay flat on the floor and crawled
towards the source of the toxins. “What the hell!!”
Exclaimed Skipper. The team aimed their spotlights under the
bed. Before them was a strange agglomeration of what appeared
to be urns and containers. “What do you suppose he’s
got in there?” Said Ken. “I don’t know.
Look! One of them’s leaking! Why don’t you go
look inside it?” “No way, you go look in it!”
“You’re the boy!” “You’re the
dyke!” “Let’s get Godzilla to do it! She’s
got her battle armor to protect her!” “Great idea!”
“Godzilla! Calling Godzilla! Come in Godzilla!”
Ken radioed Godzilla. “Roger! I read you! What is it!”
“We’ve found something alien and we need you to
come in and investigate!” “I’ll be right
in, but then you’ve gotta come over and check out what
I’ve found! Don’t touch anything until I get there!”
“Don’t worry!”
The clanking of armor announced the arrival of Godzilla.
“What is it? What have you found?” “Look
under the bed. There are all these urn thingies, and we don’t
know what’s inside of them. Whatever they contain, it
smells pretty ripe! One of them’s leaking.” “Step
aside. I’ll handle it!” Skipper and Ken gladly
obliged. Godzilla produced a large pair of tongs from beneath
her armor, ceased the seeping urn, and moved it out from under
the bed. She lifted the lid ever-so-slightly, then suddenly
a rush of vapor filled the room. The toxin caused each member
of the trio to gasp for breath. This time Skipper and Ken
were prepared, and had braced themselves. Due to her immense
size Godzilla had no need to brace, she was topple-proof by
nature. They all fired their odorizers in sync. Slowly the
team moved closer to the urn. As they peered inside they could
see that the urn was quite full and quite festering. “Good
God! This looks like cous-cous and fish!! What in the hell
is Abdul doing with cous-cous and fish under his bed? You
don’t suppose he was going to actually eat this stuff
do you? I mean, what kind of a person would actually eat that?!”
Said Skipper. “Terrorists aren’t people!”
Replied Ken. “They’re not even human! They’ll
eat anything!” “Obviously!” “You know,
Barbie’s been signing for all these packages that come
from Abdul’s mother every week. I’ll bet she’s
been sending him these urns! We thought it was just supplies
for building home chemical weapons.” “You could
still be right about that!” “No, I think she’s
just worried that her little terrorist isn’t eating
properly in the savage land known as America!”
“Well, whatever! This is only half of the story. Wait
‘til you see what I found in the lavatory! Follow me!”
Said Godzilla. “Make sure your helmets are tight. The
smell’s even worse over there!” She added.
The trio moved in unison to the lavatory. Godzilla lit a
flare as they entered (for dramatic ambiance). “Over
there! Check out the bottles on the shelf! See the one labeled
‘Eau du Bomb’? It’s leaking, just like the
urn under his bed. Don’t breathe directly from the bottle,
wave your hand over the top and waft some of the fumes towards
your nose.” Ken did as instructed, waving his hand several
times across the top of the bottle. A rush of colognic vapors
followed. “Good God! You don’t suppose he actually
intends to wear this stuff do you? It smells like garlic and
stinky feet!” “In his country, that’s probably
an aphrodisiac!” Godzilla stated matter-of-factly. “Ewwwwwwwww!”
Shouted Skipper and Ken, again in unison. “This is so
gross! We’ve got to get him to stop! What are we going
to do?” “Well, little Abdul’s gonna have
to learn to control his odors, that’s all there is to
it.” Godzilla stated matter-of-factly.
Someone at Casa Lesbo would be tasked with the hideous chore
of Tupperware training a fully-grown terrorist. The only question
now was…who? |
