Under The Weather Report Suite

by thoughtsonthedead

HACHum. MEMph. Bluh bluh. HnnnnnnGTWOO.

What is this?

I don’t feel well.

And you felt the need to share that with the nice people?

I enjoy making the sound effects.

FNARF-shpWACK. Thlup. Thluuuuup. Thlup.

Did you just sneeze and shoot a loogie across the room onto a wall and now the loogie is walking itself wetly down the wall?

Yes.

Great. Lay down, bubbe. Have some soup and watch Chinese people punch one another.

I enjoy both of those things very much.

I know.

But I haven’t told the nice people everything that Mickey did to Bobby’s house.

Maybe later.

What about the epic poem I’ve been working on? The Billiad?

Much later.

How about the story no one’s heard about the time the Dead owned and operated a luxury resort in the islands?

Just close your eyes.

There’s actually some juice in that last berry.

Mickey’s the lifeguard!

Oh, that must kill a lot of people.

Even folks who were nowhere near the pool.

Okay, yeah: do that.

Aw, he fell asleep. Look at him: just a little disappointing angel.

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