Read My Lips - the blog

Bloggin' for Books: my initial foray

Well, the topic of the contest for this week was my life as a sit-com. Mine is, but it is a dark macabre comedy. At least the title kicks butt! Without further ado, I present:

The Not-so-secret Adventures of an Average American Madman

In a ground-breaking effort to compete with the large national networks, local access channel 72, KRAP, will be showcasing its own homegrown situation comedy: The Not-So-Secret Adventures of an Average American Madman, a bizarre and zany comedy about the life and times of a small town attorney and would-be sci-fantasy novelist who doesn't own the local bowling alley. This program is produced and directed by Kevin Smith, that local hardware magnate who happens to share his name with the famous Hollywood comedic genius and showcases a thoroughly talented cast.

The lead role is played by none other than local celebrity, Tig Thomas, who amazingly walks through his lines as if this role was the one he was born to play. In the pilot episode, we find our protagonist in the middle of a cluttered home library leaning back in an office chair facing a computer monitor upon which a blank page and accompanying blinking cursor are displayed . His eyes are closed. He sits alone, talking to himself, babbling incoherently about Waffles the Clown and Wicked Willie and that Hillary Witch. His eyes open and he rises, awkwardly wandering from cluttered, disordered room to cluttered, disordered room searching for something, stopping to peer intently at the top of the circa 1975 television set and then to stir the papers strewn atop the coffee table. He flops down hard in a big blue padded chair positioned so as to face that TV set and sorts through a quintet of remote controllers until he locates the one desired, and, with a click, the sound of galloping horse hooves and sporadic gunfire fills the room. Hi-ho Silver, away! blasts from a pair of stereo speakers on opposite sides of the room.

The sound intensity increases as the rough deep voice of an announcer beckons viewers to visit "Big Ed's Furniture Warehouse on Inwood Road." Our hero rises from the big blue chair and ambles through the obstacle course of chaotically strewn possessions and sacks filled with recent purchases to enter into his bedroom. The massive bed covered by a fluffy white comforter and an assortment of pillows fills the larger part of the large room. The bed's posts are concealed beneath an assortment of clothing and head apparel hung there upon. A long clutter-topped dresser, placed along one wall, proudly displays its unorganized array of paper scraps and tiny plastic and metallic objects. Most of the open floor area is covered with piles of clothing. Our hero glances around the room, shuffles through the clutter atop the dresser, locates a large ring of keys, turns and ambles out of the room and back into the living room.

Tig crosses to a couch, near the door, upon which he regularly tosses his long black leather coat and dark blue fedora, to retrieve and quickly don such items. He walks toward the door, stops before opening it to reach into a colorful box sitting atop a stereo speaker and pull out a pair of dog treats, then opens the door and tosses a biscuit to each of the waiting beasts: a sickly looking dachshund and a large mixed-breed monster. As the dogs busily mangle the proffered treats, our hero deftly moves around and beyond the snarling hounds and out of the gate to reach the decade old, champagne-colored Lincoln Town Car parked beneath the cover of the carport. A touch on the little black control on his key chain unlocks the door, which he opens and thence flops down onto the seat behind the wheel.

A short two block drive brings us to the second major set involved in this production: the convenience store regularly frequented by our amiable madman to satisfy his constant need for a steady infusion of Dr. Pepper, our proud sponsor of this upcoming program. "Hi Tig," the clerk, waiting on a customer, cries as he walks through the door. Tig simply lifts the dark blue insulated cup which accompanies him everywhere in acknowledgment to such greeting before crossing to the soda fountain and filling his blue insulated cup with the deliciously sweet carbonated beverage. He then turns and removes a package of powdered donuts from the bread rack before ambling toward the register to make his payment. For the next quarter to half an hour, Tig stands near the front door, sipping Dr. Pepper and shoving powdered donuts into his mouth, one at a time, messily chewing while actively carrying on a conversation with the clerk. During the period, a varied assortment of patrons filters in and out of the door. Tig often moves to one side so as to not impede their progress, engaging any that look in his direction in conversation. Some, out of a sense of kindness, do pretend to listen for a few moments while others gaze strangely at the odd loiterer in the long black coat and dark blue fedora and quickly walk away, ignoring the continuous stream of mindless drivel that continues to pour out of his mouth through the half-chewed remains of powdered donuts. The clerks outwardly remain kind and courteous, nodding silently to the patrons that they are powerless to alter the situation.

Finished, finally, with the donuts, Tig crosses back to the fountain to top off his blue insulated cup with the syrupy sweet nectar that is produced by the show's major sponsor, and, without another word, ambles out the door and back into the driver's seat of his large horseless chariot. A short drive to his house, he fights his way through the snarling beasts, and attempts to unlock the door. After a continuous series of key-ring dropping and the playful dog mangling that accompanying his every bend to retrieve the ring from the porch's floor, he finally is able to fit the correct key into the tiny hole in the doorknob. Once unlocked, he enters, reaches into the box and flips each of the dogs a treat and slams the door. He crosses through the cluttered house to reach the cluttered library once again, and, after setting his cup upon the top surface of the computer desk, he flops down into the office chair, looks at the blinking cursor on the blank page, closes his eyes and leans back in the chair.