Monty's Hotbed of Controversy
Hello, everybody. It seems Monty's webendeavers of yesterweek have precipitated a firestorm of lusty protest. Hurrah! Huzzah! Huuuah! Aside from the thousands of letter-bombs, violent singing telegrams, prank calls and vicious LL Bean catalogues I received over the weekend in response to my hot, tell-all duck, monkey, and dog site, I received one infernally foaming, frothing response which stood out because it came from an old ally of mine, the inestimable and regal Sir Weathered Impregnable William the Important Senior Esquire the Third, or, as I've always called him, Swill. Seems that Swill, God bless his withered, weathered, crusty craw, and the old mangy crow that perches atop his head in place of a hairdo, has got quite a hard crumpet stuck in his creaking gullet in regards to my web content. For those few among my thousands of loyal readers who don't know to click on Ye Olde Comments Button Belowe, I shall reprint here, on the gleaming countertop of my Primary Texte Body Area (forgive all the techy jargon), the full text of Swill's swell letter.
A Letter from an Avid and/or Rabid Reader
"You bastard! How dare you expose children to your disgusting website of duckery and celebrophilia and drunken galavanting. Why just the other day my poor innocent son, innocent lil impressionable billy, his great step uncle was named impressionable, Just the other day innocent lil Billy was in the park playing with his free range chicken and stuffed platypus and we saw one of your posters for 'Monty's peep world and mysterious freak exhibit'. Don't play coy with me Monty you corrupt maniac. This is the poster with Nicole Kidman on the gazebo with a duck shoved up her ass and a martini glass in her left hand with the olive spilling out? Very creative Monty but hardly the thing for a man who is reputed to be one of the top children's entertainers in the world. I have have half a mind to throw on my galoshes and do some galavanting over to whereever the flick dang doodle heck your Mondo world is and throw you an everlovin' beatdown as I hear the kids say. You've crossed the wrong father Monty. I can never forgive my child being exposed to the horrible image of Nicole Kidman sodomized by a duck. As much as any grown man could appreciate that it's just not right for children. Misses impressionable Billy agrees with me whole heartedly and sends her condolences for your sense of tact. Really Monty. You had a chance to be a world leader in Mondo worlds for kids. Now I and my wife are going to begin the most virulent campaign of Anti Monty protests the land has seen since President Harding was filibustered for having mad hoes. Your only hope now is that miscreant Rich Dillweed(if he even still supports you, last I heard he was snorkeling in Wannapikapeepee with his closest advisors and his trusty mule). Only Rich Dillweed can defend you and your obviously jewish website of pornography and godlessness. Holyily, Weathered Impregnable William the Important Sr. Esq. III (proud father of innocent lil impressionable Billy)"
Monty's Reponse
Well. I'm sure you can smell my incense from where you're sitting. In all my life only two people have accused me of "galavanting," and the first was my mother, who, during high school, would frequently accuse me of "galavanting around town with your friends Ron and Juan" (names changed to protect me from lawsuits) Then, as now, these accusations reek of falsehood. Though out of principle I absolutely refuse to look up the word, I believe that "galavanting" implies all sorts of stomping, swaggering, skipping, loping, roaming, and bussing oneself about town, while in fact, contary to my mother's allegations, my friends and I spent most of our free time during high school sitting quite still at Ron's house making sweet music with Ron's stepfather's bong. Though the times and my habits have changed since then, I assure you, Swill, if you are listening, that my current sedentary lifestyle leaves no more opportunity for galavanting than did my adolescent sloth. As for your other accusations, Swill, you are more or less spot-on. Keep it up, old chap.
Monty Asks You for Help
Speaking of my adolescent sloth, I've been having some problems with my adolescent sloth, Terrence. You see, when he first reached puberty, everything seemed to be going smoothly. There were the normal signs: I saw him noticing, very slowly of course, fur in places where he'd had no fur before; he spent a fortnight traveling thirty feet to the nearest RiteAid to get some deoderant for his newly odorous armpits; and inevitably, soon enough I woke to the "whack.............................................................................. whack.................................................................................... whack..............................." sound of Terrence very slowly, well, "whacking" "it." Again, nothing but the normal signs of adolescent development; but of course, along with the joyful aspects of puberty, one comes to expect, sooner or later, some degree of rebelliousness, for which I, as Terrence's guardian, am emotionally prepared. My problem, dear readers, is this: I can't tell if Terrence is rebelling or not; he's simply too slow. The other day, for example, Terrence began a motion which looked as though it could be the beginning of him "giving me the finger"; I patiently waited to see if this was indeed the case, but eventually I had to leave for work. Similarly, I asked him recently to pick up some fruit rinds he'd left on the forest floor; by the time he'd descended to the base of his tree, the rinds had decomposed completely, which is not unusual, except that there was perhaps something "smartassed" about the way Terrence slowly looked at me afterwards.
Of course, the icing on my concern-cake is flavored with worries over Terrences budding sexuality. While it hardly seems likely that he would be the type to "move too fast" in a relationship, he has, for some months now, been slowly but surely inching his way in the general direction of a female sloth who lives in an adjacent tree. Now Terrence knows very well that he is scheduled this fall for an arranged marriage to a sloth in the Bronx Zoo, and that he is to raise a family in captivity, as so many of us are obligated to do. However, while I can't be certain, it sometimes seems to me that he might be very slowly "sprouting wood" for this neighbor sloth. What to do? It would be one thing if my Terrence could get some good old fashioned teenage rutting out of his way and just move on, but sexual relationships between sloths tend to be, out of necessity, long-term. Why, by the time Terrence and this neighboring tree-slut (sorry - the stress of guardianhood!) finish their first bout of copulation, he could already be past child-rearing age, or even dead.
Please help!!!!! What should I do?????
Sincerely,
Baffled in Brooklyn (~Monty)
12:11:45 PM 
|
|
