Monday, September 21, 2009

On The Couch With Sock Monkey




SM: So, how are you feeling today?

WO: I could murder a cheese sandwich, if that helps.


SM: Interesting...


WO: In what way?


SM: I’ll come to that in a moment.


WO: No, no. Spill the beans. Is this like a tarot card thing? Where I pluck a card from the deck, say, the hanging man, and you interpret the meaning?


SM: Not exactly, But now you mention it...


WO: What? The cheese or the murder or the hanging man? What are you insinuating?


SM: Insinuating? Why, nothing. As ever, I’m merely providing you with a vehicle for the carriage of your innermost thoughts into the examinable consciousnesscsape—


WO: Leaving aside the absurd phrase consciousnesscape—’


SM: Revealing, in itself...


WO: Shut your trap. My point is — are you suggesting that without the assistance of your metaphoric bicycle, my innermost thoughts have no meaningful expression in the world?


SM: Why not hovercraft?


WO: Does it matter?


SM: As far as the outward expression of your inner life is concerned, yes, it jolly well matters.


WO: Like a cheese sandwich matters?


SM: Yes.


WO: And a hanging man matters?


SM: Yes, now you mention it.


WO: But that’s ridiculous. I could say anything. Waitaminute. Let me think. I know — rumbustuous pelicans hovering over a sunset of...mystery galoshes...and...Elton John is in the nude serenading a browned photograph of Princess Di.


SM: There. I knew you were going to say that. Maybe now we can move forward with things.


WO: Maybe now I should punch you in the face.


SM: But how, precisely? With the grim resignation of a hanging man? The swoosh of a hovercraft on the ocean blue? The calculated swipe of a knife through cheddar?


WO: What about a smack in your consciousnesscape?


SM: Okay, okay — if this session has been too challenging for you, I’ll knock ten quid off...


WO: Up your crack, you novelty primate...


For reasons of decency — and also confusion regarding how to spell agonised cries of such expletives as wauuuuugh, muaaaaaaaaaurgh, eaaaarrrrrgh and away with your violent alter ego! I summon the protective shield of the High Monkey Lord, Oolamaboobramtheulis! — subsequent details of this analytical transcript have been seized by Cophouse Central, pending investigation.

9 comments:

blogless troll said...

At first I was gonna side with SM, but I see your point about the galoshes. Maybe you should swing him around by the tail.

Kiersten White said...

Someday I want to hang out with you and SM. Or just SM.

Better yet, I want SM to babysit my children.

Anna Claire said...

I'm trying to decide what that spiky plant sitting between SM and your(?) feet says about your relationship.

Whirlochre said...

BT
You may be on to something there. he's already missing an arm.

Kiersten
His rates are astonishingly high — but he's a firm taskmaster.

Anna Claire
Everything.

fairyhedgehog said...

You managed to get four different patterns into a small photo but Sock Monkey looks so plain! He should be wearing a plaid jacket and striped trousers, at least.

Whirlochre said...

And his cousin, another sock monkey, is rendered of dullest brown.

Time, methinks, to invest in some Argyle hose from M&S...

Scarlet-Blue said...

You should have gone for cheese on toast.
Sx

Robin S. said...

As ever, I’m merely providing you with a vehicle for the carriage of your innermost thoughts into the examinable consciousnesscsape—

...I never have to wonder why I'm addicted to visiting here.

Whirlochre said...

Scarlet
If this was an Olympic event, I'd suck molten cheddar from a frazzled bloomer for England.

Robin
As long as you don't start bumping into trees and stuff, I'm OK with that...