Danny, Do You Know What You Can Do With That Darn Thing? What Is It With Dudes, Anyway?

I am the only patron in the Nail Place. My Nail Girl is nailing me. Bachelor Bob is on the giant television on the wall, hosting the gameshow network and chatting with Doris from the heartland about her adorable grandchild.

Note: My Grandboy can take hers with both hands tied behind his back.

The only other person around is Danny, the fellow who did my nails a couple of times when My Nail Girl was sick. He once told me how the bad guys in his homeland ate the brains of his pet monkey and pretty much scarred me for life. And whatnot. He is sitting out of my view on a brown leather sofa in the waiting area. But his presence is obvious.

And I'm not talking about the scent of Old Spice.

The channel changes.

Jerry Springer is holding the envelope. He is slaps it in the palm of his hand, then waves it under the skank's nose.

Are you ready to know who is the father of your baby?

The Men tussle. The Skank shrieks. The Muscle drag the men to opposite sides of the stage. Expletives flow.

Jerry pulls a sheet of paper from the envelope ...

The channel changes.

Jennifer Love Hewitt is playing hide and seek with some kid with wide, vacant eyes. Scary music flows as she looks in the closet or under the stairs or in some creepy and dark place. But there is a ghost in the hiding place, not some kid. The Ghost has dark circles under her eyes and looks as if she hasn't had a decent nights' sleep since she died, whenever that was.

Jennifer Love Hewitt is motioning to the ghost and saying What have you done to the child? Where is he? and the Ghost is motioning with her head and making quizzical faces and not whispering at all.

Note: I am sorely disappointed with the lack of whispering.

The Ghost makes a run for it and Jennifer chases after her, breasts jiggling, of course but then there is the scream. Of a child. She looks back.

The channel changes. Again.

The nose of Flight 800 explodes, sending the plane down into the frigid waters of the Atlantic. Thousands of pounds of razor sharp debris and hundreds of miles of wires and cables tangle the Navy divers as they recover the bodies of the 230 passengers and crew.

Bits and pieces of this and that, which I fervently hope are not body parts, drift near the ocean floor, and fish dart in and out of the wreckage.
The narrator's raspy voice asks Was it an accident or was something more sinister behind the crash of Flight 800?

You guessed it. The channel changes. Again.

Now I will never see Doris' adorable grandchild. I will never know which Loser fathered the Skank's child. I will never know if the hiding child was ever found. And I will never know the outcome of the investigation of Flight 800.

Danny, Do You Know What You Can Do With That Darn Thing?

Heck, yes!


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