Double Dumbass

Robert Blake is sitting in his den, relaxed in his comfortable easy chair, casually smoking a cigar, sipping a glass of expensive wine. Enjoying the good life.
There is a knock at his front door. He rises, walks to the door, opens it.
A group of grim faced LAPD are standing on his porch.
One of the shorter of them says, “Mickey? We got your nuts in a vice, son.”
“Is that so, officer?” Robert Blake says, an air of elitism, mockery. a hypnotic, bemused stare levied the short officer’s way.
With a wag of a tree trunk finger and red-eyed squint, the biggest officer stood in front says, “You remember that role you had in that movie yous did a while back, ‘In Cold Blood’? Sons a bitch danglin’ and pissin’ from that rope? You remember back that far ...dontcha, Mickey?”
The policemen chuckle with menace.
Robert Blake’s asshole squares up in a knot. “Holy shit.” he says.
Another policeman says, “Sumptin’ like that.”
The biggest officer steps closer, and says, “Mickey? Assume the position, ya cocksucker!”, whips out the cuffs with a flourish and style. “Your cockateel lovin’ ass is mine today, but you’ll be somebody else’s bitch tomorrow! HAW! HAWHAWHAW! HAWHAWHAWHAWHAWHAW!”
A ripple of mirth from the gathered LAPD accompanies the biggest officer who is obviously delighted at his oratorical prowess.
Cuffs being tightened, the shorter officer leans forward, mere inches from Robert Blake’s distorted, suddenly pale face, and barks, “Can’t do the time?! Don’t do the crime! ...Remember that one, Mickey?!”
The policemen chortle mightily at this statement and disperse, a shackled Robert Blake led away, shoulder blades all bunched, bouncing on tippy toes, asshole swallowing half dollars.

The cigar is left smoldering in the stainless steel ashtray. Rancid smoke dissipating into so much nothingness. Stinking up the place. The wine is expensive, but too sweet, with an overbearing metallic aftertaste. Piquant, but obsequious. Not a good year.

Mickey will reprise his role, just like ole’ Truman wrote it.

Froggy is somewhere laughing his ass off.
Alfalfa never gave two shits.
Darla is dancing the boogaloo.
Spanky always wanted to see his own dick.
“Otay, Panky.”
Never did.

Robert Blake is one dumb, opprobrious motherfucker. He used to smirk, give a dismissive wave of the hand, and say, “...Awwww, you guys...”
Just like the Lou Reed song, now the colored girls sing, “Doo, doo doo, doo doo, doo -doo-doo-doo, doo doo, doo doo, doo -doo-doo-doooooo” ...and eagerly await their turn; hyenas geezed up on the scent of fresh meat; pumped, greased, all too ready for the screaming and the blood.
“Awwww, you guys...”

David Lynch will film it. It will be an arthouse smash, No one will remember the beginning, nor understand the ending.
Just one ...oh so small, delicately whispered, “Silencio...................”


FINIS