One of my favorite fantasies is that Mozart is riding in the car with me, and he is AMAZED and speechless over the radio. “Ach meine lieben! Vos eez dees ting? How dos it verk? Mein Gott im Himmel! Vot eez dat crapola?!!” (I just turned it to a rap station.)
We cruise around town, punching various pre-set stations, then scanning for others. I’ve often wondered what he would think about the common song format we have - verse, chorus, verse, chorus, bridge, chorus chorus faaaaaaaaaaaaade. Would Wolfie say it was too pat and predictable, or would he just enjoy it for what it is?
He can’t stop messing with the radio. He’s adjusting the bass, treble, volume. He’s starting to get on my nerves.
I put k.d. lang’s “Ingenue” cd in to calm him down a bit. Then we stop for lunch at Tanya’s. After a tasty Cindy the Boy and bread pudding, we waddle back to the car.
I pop in “Poses” by Rufus Wainwright and yell “Come on and rock me Amadeus!” He gives me a disgusted look and tells me to shut up cause he can't hear the words to Cigarettes & Chocolate Milk.
Join us next week as Wolfgang and I cruise to the soundtrack from “Everything is Illuminated.” I’m gonna blow his ever-lovin’ 18th-century mind.
Oh, and I forgot one other thing. He's also amazed because I am a chicken. And a zombie. Driving a car.
ReplyDeleteYou had my belief suspended up until you, as a zombie chicken driving mozart around, ate a sandwich containing havarti cheese.
ReplyDeleteTribal lore from my part of the world specifically states that havarti cheese is to zombie chickens what garlic is to vampires. Or vampyrs. As I like to call 'em. Because the use of the letter "y" is more pretentious and old world sounding and anything that makes me sound pretentious and old world is good for my career.
Anyway, I am unsure of the correctness of the adverse affects of havarti (and, idly enough, a couple of rare varieties of Stilton) have on zombie chickens. I'm not trying to act like I'm an expert on the subject or anything, as, obviously you are and what I heard has been passed down through generations of townsfolk and I've never fed a zombie chicken havarti cheese and in your fantasy you seem to consume it with delight and then continue on your merry way, operating a motor vehicle and whatnot.
Hmmm, I see you are worldly and wise, Hobotronic. BUT! you did not consider the possibility that I asked them to leave off the havarti so that I could insert my own personal stash of pecorino toscano that I keep in a small cooler with me at all times.
ReplyDeleteWolfgang prefers the havarti. But he won't ever eat it again, since I zombi-fied him yesterday after church. He will write only requiems now. No problem since he is so good at it.
Since you zombified him, you might say he is now "de-composing."
ReplyDeleteOld joke. Baaaaaaaaaaaad joke.