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Skipper and Barbie were busy cleaning and preparing for the
arrival of their guests. It was to be the first official cookout
at Casa Lesbo. Ken walked into the kitchen to see if there
were any garnishing tips that he could provide. Skipper was
in the process of preparing kebabs. He asked her if she needed
any help. "No, I'm OK." She said. Ken took a closer
look and observed the order of Skipper's kebab spearing. Onion-onion-onion-pepper-pepper-onion-pineapple-sausage.
"No, no, no! You've got the order all wrong!" Said
Ken. "It's Pepper-onion-tomato-sausage-pepper-onion-sausage-pineapple-pepper!"
It was obvious that poor Skipper didn't know a thing about
proper garnishing. It's a good thing Ken was there. "Who
in their right mind would eat a kebab-o-onions?!" Said
Ken. "Fine! Then you come over here and do it!"
Skipper threw down her sticks in a huff and went hopping away.
Literally.
Ken was overwhelmed by the amount of sausages and ground
beef strewn everywhere. My God-there wasn't a white meat of
any form whatsoever! Whenever somebody mentioned kebabs, Ken
immediately thought of chicken or shrimp, delicately marinated
in a balsamic vinaigrette, and grilled to perfection. "Must
have something to do with their constant iron deficiencies
and bad plumbing design." Ken thought to himself. He
was afraid to ask what type of condiments would be served.
The Heinz 57 on the counter made him tremble. Again Ken was
thankful that he was there to properly garnish the event.
Suddenly Ken heard the unmistakable roar of a rapidly approaching
Harley. He froze just prior to adding human finger to the
kebab selection. "Please God, don't let it be coming
HERE!" His pleas went unheard. God was still getting
him back for publishing those photos on the Internet. "Damn!"
His heart was pitter-patting ever so quickly! Ken was truly
trembling. He just knew that this would be the end. Some butch
ol' bull dyke would come up and punch him out for improper
kebab structure, and proceed to spear him death with a kebab.
Ken began to recite the Lord's Prayer.
The roar of the Harley stopped. Ken parted the freshly laundered
Priscilla curtains and peered from the kitchen window to catch
a glimpse the beast that would end his plastic yet young life.
He gasped. Was THIS the pilot of the Harley? Before him he
beheld a golden treasure.......tall, slim, blonde, LIPSTICKED,
and most tastefully dressed! My God, she was even wearing
a COORDINATED outfit! There wasn't a trace of flannel anywhere
on her body! Ken set the kebabs on the pink linoleum countertop
in order to get down on his knees and praise Jesus...it appeared
that indeed his life would be spared! As he eased his way
down to a kneeling position he noticed that the light from
between the Priscilla curtains was fading. What could this
be? An eclipse?! No, no...it was too quick to be an eclipse.
He stood up with clean knees from the spotless vinyl kitchen
floor to peer once again from the kitchen window.
The goddess had been replaced by none other than Butchina
Gallactica. She was big. She was bold. She was Jupiter draped
in flannel. Due to excessive trembling, Ken was no longer
able to stand. He was certain that Butchina had eaten Lipsticka,
and he would be next on the menu. He pulled up a stool and
sat for a moment to regain his composure. Butchina's barks
drew closer and louder...soon she had entered the main airlock...by
INVITATION no less! She was no intruder, Ken had to have been
invited by Godzilla. It was the only logical explanation.
Butchina still had not spotted Ken in the kitchen. "Must
finish kebabs. Must escape. Must avoid contact with aliens
at all cost." Ken began to focus on one thing...finishing
the kebabs and reaching the escape pod as soon as possible.
Ken finished the kebabs. Butchina was blocking the path to
the escape pod, so Ken cleverly went outside to see if Barbie
needed any help. She was busy trying to assemble her new faux
Baby Weber grill. Unfortunately none of the screws were long
enough and that was that-assembly was simply not possible!!
"That'll teach you to buy off-brand grills!" said
Ken. Barbie immediately tossed the whole assemblage over the
deck. Ken was sure that Barbie was a lesbian imposter, and
made a mental note to keep a close eye on her. She never tuned
up her own car. Earlier in the day she had been clueless as
to what a pipe wrench looked like, and now demonstrated a
complete lack of ability to assemble a grill. She was definitely
not a lesbian, he was convinced. Hybrid, perhaps, but definitely
not a true lesbian thoroughbred. "Whatever will we grill
on now?" Said Ken, quite smittingly. "I was a Girl
Scout, I'll just dig a hole in the ground and we'll grill
over that!" Maybe she really was a lesbian after all.
Ken had dug many a hole in his Boy Scout days, but never even
dreamed of cooking food in them afterwards. That would've
been quite unsanitary, to say the least! He quickly retreated
so as to avoid giving Barbie the opportunity to toss him over
the deck.
The transporter room of Casa Lesbo was now quite full. So
far the aliens had managed to contain themselves and were
quite well mannered. Perhaps Ken could sneak by and make a
dash for the escape pod without being noticed. He slowly crept
along the edges of the walls. Tiptoe, smile, tiptoe. He was
almost there when... "Hey! Look everybody! It's Ken...our
house boy!" Chirped Skipper. The beasts turned and snorted
in unison to observe the flannel-less creature that was so
alien to their society.
"Tell us about yourself." Barked Butchina. "Yeah.
Do ya like chicks or are we gonna have to pummel in your head?"
she continued. "Well, without them we'd never have chicken
cacciatore now would we?" "Huh?! Are you getting'
sassy with me boy?! I'm getting really hungry and I ain't
in the mood for no lip!" "Hmmm." Thought Ken.
"Getting hungry? Now there's an opportunity for diversion."
Ken decided to begin feeding the beasts quickly so as to avoid
any unnecessary ugliness and or mood swings. He asked Skipper
if there were any appetizers. "Of course!! The Ritz and
CheeezWhiz are on the counter, next to the Bud!" Again
Ken trembled. Trembling had become a regular part of his life
since moving to Casa Lesbo, and by now he was quite accustomed
to the sensation.
Butchina had something to say. She was quite buzzed...apparently
she had been to a fine beer tasting earlier in the day and
partaken of one too many pints. She tried to locate Ken. She
scanned the room and zoomed in on his most tasteful outfit.
She squinted and attempted to focus on his face. It was a
struggle, but eventually she conjured up enough words to form
a sentence. "You! Ken-thing! I <burp> want one
o' <burp> them there appetizers"! "Comin'
right up!" Ken was quite happy to retreat to the safety
kitchen. He prayed that the beasts would forget about him
and he could quietly disappear out the back airlock to the
escape pod. Alas, it was not to be. "Dammit Boy! I said
I was hungry! How long does it take to splat some CheezWhiz
on a cracker?!" Butchina bellowed from the transporter
room. Ken opted to forgo the optional parsley garnish and
serve the CheeseWhiz delights barren on a mint green MelMac
platter. Feeling quite the servant boy, Ken returned to the
transporter room.
Flannel-chat was now in full swing. Ken proceeded directly
to Butchina so as to silence the beast. She snorted and consumed
half the platter in less than six seconds. Ken was stunned,
and backed away very slowly. He didn't want to startle her,
she could easily mistake him for sushi (the smell from the
crabfest could still be lingering in Ken's clothes). Ever
the butler-boy, Ken mingled through the crowd. "CheeseWiz
anyone?" He was able to catch bits and pieces of various
conversations. Ginger had been swimming with Skipper earlier
that afternoon. They were giggling over their shower antics.
Apparently Skipper likes to take extra long showers and check
out nubile young nymphs in the nude! Skipper has a crush on
one of the other minnows on her team, and got all excited
when she and Ginger discussed her. "I just wanted to
bend her naked over my knee and spank her!!" Skipper
squealed. "CheeseWiz Spanky-I mean Skipper?" Skipper
smiled as she jabbed Ken with her hydraulic Dream Spear.
Ken decided to migrate towards Barbie and a few of her dream
friends to see how they were doing. "Do you think hers
are real? They NEVER move and are always at attention. I find
them highly suspicious." "I don't know. Do you really
think the deodorant kind really do the trick? Vinegar and
water still work best for me." Barbie was engaged in
much less entertaining conversation. Ken noticed that there
was only one more cracker on the platter. Butchina extended
one of her telescopic appendages to capture and consume it.
"Skipper, Barbie...I think it's time we fed the creatures,
I mean guests!" "Good idea Ken. Why don't you go
outside and start cooking."
Ken was unsure of how exactly he had been transformed into
the obedient servant, but he welcomed the chance to break
free of the beastie girls. He retreated to the kitchen and
gathered up the flesh-o-bobs. He went outside to the firehole
and began grilling.
The smell of burning flesh drew the previously unseen Godzilla
towards the grill. "Probably been hibernating in her
cave." Thought Ken. Oddly enough she seemed to be much
less beastical than some of Skipper and Barbie's friends!
There really were creatures more frightful on the planet than
the green-scaled, fire breathing beast that dwelled in the
caverns below Casa Lesbo. Butchina proved that. Ken actually
attempted to make conversation with Godzilla. Godzilla recited
tales from her past while Ken recited Karen Carpenter songs
in his head...they were getting along fabulously! Ken was
quite confused by this turn of events. First ovulating, now
this! Just as he was about to ask Godzilla which brand of
maxipad she preferred, Barbie appeared. "More beer anyone?"
"DAMN RIGHT BITCH!" (That's Dykenese for yes) replied
Godzilla. Suddenly the spell broke. The smoke and beer had
obviously gone to his head. Speaking to Godzilla?! What was
he thinking?!
By now smell of burning flesh began to attract the other
beasts. One by one they would catch the scent and be drawn
to the grill. Ken recognized this scenario. He'd seen Jurassic
Park and Godzilla (the movie). It was time to access the escape
pod immediately. "Here Barbie. Could you watch the kebabs
a minute. I just need to go inside and touch up my hair."
"Sure Ken." Mere seconds after handing Barbie the
tongs, the beasts converged. Flesh and flannel were flying
everywhere. Ken ducked just in time to miss having his left
earlobe pierced by a flying kebab. Definitely time to go.
Ken sent out an emergency transmission to his long-time friend
Mr. Butch, instructing him to meet him immediately at Vodka
Land. The transporter room was clear. Ken strapped himself
into the escape pod and blasted off. The scent of burning
flesh faded much quicker than that of three day old, festering
crab organs. Ken was feeling much better. His mouth began
to water at the thought of a lovely Gin and Tonic consumed
in a flannel-free environment. Perhaps his ovaries were finally
subsiding. |
