SERIALIZATION OF “the Zany Time Travels of Warble McGorkle” – Chapter 7 of 61
Consumer Warble Exhibits his Megalomania, and Threatens to Fire His Image Consultant
CHAPTER 7
Consumer Warble Exhibits his Megalomania, and Threatens to Fire His Image Consultant
Warble calls Ward Robespierre, his image consultant, chief of staff, and right-hand man: “Robespierre, this is your meal ticket. Call up the rest of my people. I want all of you to meet me here at my villa—pronto!”
“But...” Ward begins to object (he’s about to take his daughter Rhonda to her school team’s soccer game, something he had solemnly promised her months before—which obligation he had informed Warble about well in advance).
“No butts about it, Robespierre,” Warble barks. “Get your donkey over here, or you’ll be like a clay vase in a potter’s bake oven.”
“What?” Ward replies, confused, as he often is when talking to his boss.
“Fired!” Warble fires back. “Fired! F,I,R,E,D—Fired!”
Warming up to the task, Warble is mad enough now to swallow a horned toad backwards. If he had a conventional phone, he would slam down the receiver, perhaps breaking of one of the hardened plastic prongs that hold the transmitter on the cradle when the phone is “at rest.” But, since it’s a cell phone, Warble simply throws his head back and lets loose with a primordial scream, somewhat akin to Lebron James after an in-your-face monster dunk: “IT’S HARD TO GET GOOD HELP NOWADAYS!!!”
Warble has overtaxed himself a tad. He takes a few deep breaths, presenting a tolerably reasonable facsimile of a man breathing along with his wife at a Lamaze class.
Finally getting a grip on himself, but not yet willing to let go of his anger without another denunciation, Warble adds, “I’ve stuffed the gullets of sluggards too long!”
Mary tries to ignore Warble’s tantrum. “Warble,” she asks in a honeyed tone of voice, “What is it you wanted to show me? I’m right in the middle of baking some apple pies.”
“Forget the dad-burned pies, Mary!” Warble says, dismissively waving his hand. “But speaking of pies, call up Papa Murphy’s and have them deliver a bunch of pizza pies, and a few cases of Jolt Cola.”
“Why, are we going to watch a Badgers game on TV tonight?” Mary wonders.
“Mary, THINK!” Warble replies, tapping his head with his forefinger. “It’s May—the Badgers aren’t playing yet,” he badgers.
“Oh, that’s right—so what’s up?” Mary asks.
“We’re going on a trip far, far away, and to a different time,” Warble says, expecting to pique Mary’s interest.
“That’s nice, Warble, have a nice trip,” Mary responds, turning to walk back into the house. She doesn’t really expect to get away with it, but it’s worth a try.
“Mary, didn’t I say in our wedding vows, ‘For better or forget it’? You’re cruisin’, girl!”
“On the other hand, you, Warble, can’t be any better than you already are,” Mary shoots back.
“Why, thank you, my dear!” Warble says, basking in the glow of what he imagines to have been high words of praise.
“That wasn’t a compliment, Warble,” Mary informs him. “I am simply resigned to that state of affairs. It would be easier to plan an obstruction to a sunrise or a hurricane than to change that situation.”
Warble sighs, losing his patience. “Mary, quit kidding around. I want you to go with us,” he says, changing to a cajoling tone. “C’mon, it’ll be fun—plus, the photo opps will be much more effective if you’re there by my side, gazing up at me in wonder and unmasked admiration as I perform my marvelous deeds to save humanity.”
“Marvelous deeds?” Comfy and Albert say in unison. As Warble turns around and gives them a dirty look, Mary, standing behind him, looks at the two workmates, shakes her head, and rolls her eyes. ‘See the cross I have to bear?’ is the message she’s trying to convey to them. They get the picture.
“Yes, marvelous deeds!” Warble hotly contends. “I’ve got plans for the Arodnap that are orders of magnitude better than your lame ideas. Seeing Elvis in 1956 indeed!” Warble mocks. “That’s the sort of thinking you plan to get when you leave the thinking and planning to a stuffed shirt pencil pusher and a grease monkey.”
Mary tries to defuse the situation by changing the subject when she sees Comfy’s body English (he’s about to tell Warble a thing or two, sale or no sale), and notices Albert reaching for a fuse puller. “Why don’t you just PhotoShop(™) me in to those photo opps, Warble?” she asks. “No one will know any different. You can tell me all about it when you get back, and it will be just like I was there.”
“NO, Mary, and that’s final!” Warble growls, unconsciously stomping his foot on the ground. “Go in the house, turn off the oven, and call Papa Murphys!”
“Can’t I stay and finish my baking?” Mary wheedles.
“I wish I could write it in the sky in capital letters one hundred feet tall, followed by about a gazillion exclamation points: NO! NO! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (etc.)” is Warble’s response to that.
Mary expels an exasperated groan and turns on her heels, angrily pulling off her apron as she goes.
“‘PhotoShop photo opps’--Who ever heard of such nonsense?!” Warble grumbles under his breath. “I can’t imagine how Mary has sunk to such depths of depravity and crevices of corruption—trying to fool my constituents and the consumers thataway!”
Just then, the trio standing in the back yard hear a convoy of vehicles pull into the McGorkles’ driveway.
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Blackbird Crow Raven’s “the Zany Time Travels of Warble McGorkle” is being serialized in this space each Sunday and Thursday; it is also available in its entirety from here.
You can listen to the recording of this excerpt, by the author, here: