EARLY, FAR TOO EARLY, SUNDAY, SEPT. 1, 2013: The skies are clear, the sun is shining like a super star and the natives are beginning to stir from their alcohol/party/passion-induced slumber.
The valet deck will soon stink of fossil fuels, coffee and discarded fast food containers, the by-products of a race obsessed with convenience and indulgence rather than survival and enlightenment.
Soon the lobby will be overrun with the best and worst humanity has to offer, their bodies smelling of stale alcohol and regret. And yours truly? I will be fighting to maintain the last vestiges of my sanity.
So in the moments remaining, before the gates are breached, let’s talk briefly, shall we?
TIME FOR AN UPDATE ON THE MISADVENTURES OF MISERY:
Sarah has found a savior in the form of a lovely, refined woman named Joan Stephenson, an artist of great vision and skill. I would love to show you the results of their collaboration thus far, but Sarah would separate my balding head from my flabby body quicker than you can say “Bad Daddy!”
Still no word from Ellen, but that was to be expected; penetrating the fortress a celebrity of her status resides in was a long shot, at best. Then again, these things often take a ridiculously long time; it took the Steven and Chris show nine months to respond to my personal campaign and the answer was a resounding “No, thank you.”
Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the best example, but you’ll have to cut me some slack, friends, the last few days have been a little strange. I’ve been feeling… off.
My legs have been encased in cement. My blood pressure has been ridiculously low, despite the fact that everyone always assumes my pressure would be high. My cerebral highway has been covered in fog, and so my consciousness has been sending out thoughts that have arrived in less than perfect condition once they reach my brain box. And my heart feels as though it has been… well, the truth is, I don’t know how my heart feels.
(I wonder if Superman knows how lucky he really is?)
Blood has been drawn. (but not by vampires, much to the wife’s dismay.) Heart tests have been conducted.
Now we wait.
All the while, the world continues spinning; Syria continues to tests Obama’s resolve, the Kardashians continue to test my patience and the guests continue their onslaught, and so I must stay the course.
Admittedly, I’m doing so as a mere shadow of myself, but half a Hook is better than none, right?
I have to admit, it’s nice to know that, even at half power, I can still hold my own with my guests.
Speaking of holding one’s own, have I ever told you the tale of the unluckiest bellman in the world? No? That’s great, because I’d hate to bore you. So here we go…
For this tale we have to travel back sixteen years, to the first hotel to employ me as a bellman. Our “hero”, Dave, used to use his pass key to let himself into the maintenance shop after everyone had gone home for the night. You see, the shop had a television hooked up to the hotel’s pay-per-yank adult films and so Dave… well, you can see where this is going, right?
So anyway, one fateful night, as he’s attending to the needs of “Little Dave”, he reaches for what he thought was a bottle of lube…
Turns out plumber’s glue does not make for a good personal lubricant. There was no happy ending of any sort in that tale, my friends.
Now where were we?
Oh yeah, I arrived at a room at the height of the check-out hysteria where I was greeted by a little sin kissed angel – and her less-than-divine progenitor.
BIG DADDY: (After taking one look at me.) Hey, they didn’t say they were sending Lurch!
THE WIFE: Tim! What do you know? Everyone’s bigger than you!
BIG DADDY: Well, he’s huge! You’re huge, man!
That was it, kid or no kid, it was time to activate my diminished “Wonder Hook powers”..
THE HOOK: That’s what she said!
BIG DADDY: Ha! I love it! You’re all right, Lurch!
Turns out, I was. I got through the day and now I’m about to do it again. Wish me well, all right?
Be well, friends. Just remember, things could always be worse; you could be Robin “Never mind the VMAs, I love my wife, I swear it never moved once!” Thicke or Miley “I LOVE foam, I mean, I REALLY love foam!” Cyrus.