Liberal Oil Slicks
Susan Sarandon and I met for high tea in Cape Town this Monday. I was early, she was late. That's how it is with these pot smoking liberals. "Whenever' or "whatever" suits them. The strength of the wind guides their wills - and when the wind is 'nigh they are immobile. I don't believe I have ever orally said, "Whatever." It's such an unpoetic word. Although, I may have said it, orally, at some point in my early days as a hustler in downtown Belfast.
Susan brought her lovely daughter Eva Amurri wth her. She blamed her tardiness on Eva stubbing her toe in the hotel. Stubbed Toe? I was shot three times on my way to meet Truman Capote, and I still made it with five minutes to spare. Oscar winners always blame their daughters - even if they don't have any. Renee Zellweger once was late to the set of Cold Mountain and blamed her tardiness on her Raggedy Ann Doll. In her defense, I did steal away from the set during a brief break in shooting and snuck into her Star Wagon. I was shocked to find no Raggedy Ann Doll, but there was some red stringy hair in the toilet. I had it analyzed by my friend, Murray, who does consulting for the CSI Franchise, and he confirmed that it was from the head of a Raggedy Ann Doll. But where did that Raggedy Ann Doll go?
Susan ordered Sashimi. I had Bread Pudding, and a cut of Lentil Meatloaf. I always eat Pudding first. Eva had BBQ Corn nuts and Tortilla Soup. The waiter's name was Joseph. I paid the bill. Susan left the tip. I waved the valet. We posed for the South African media flash bulbs. The Valet's name was Stephann. My birthday is July 15th. Susan and I hugged. Eva and I waved. I ate four breathmints throughout the night.
My Lamborgini roared to the curb and as the car door swung upwards. I turned to Susan, and in my loudest baritone voice I whispered, "Why didn't we say anything at Lunch." She couldn't hear what I was saying because I need a new muffler, so she smiled and waved just like you imagine Susan Sarandon would. She waddled her Susan Sarandon hips to her "rented" energy conscience Toyota Prius, and snapped Eva into a safety conscience 'adult' baby car seat. Yes, I swear, an 'adult' safety seat, and it did not match the upholstery in the car.
They putt-putted off at 35 mph and I zoomed out the driveway at 210 mph in 20 seconds. I felt bad because I left a giant oil slick behind me, and Susan and Eva crashed because of it. I was speeding through North Africa by the time I got the call. Susan had been hospitalized, but Eva was safe. (Thanks, in part, to the 'adult' safety seat and her giant forehead)
By the time I reached Cairo Susan had received a basket of Parsimmons Roses and Daffodils. My initials drying from my alabaster plume pen underneath a small brief haiku. It read:
friends forget regrets
oil can streets tempestous
dawn at velcro camp
Cairo was fantastic. I bought a tuxedo factory for me, and a snail farm for Dakota Fanning. It was wonderful to see the Pyramids of Egypt again knowing that my species designed them before they shrunk us and our voices were stolen by the Egyptian God Morphoos. We like to keep it hush-hush in the history books, but once Cats ruled the Earth. Cattus Catervatin was our Latin ruling name. Now we just let the humans do the work while we sit back and play. Its quite a life. I call it 'passive-agressive caucasian slavery'.
Off to Holland to judge the Chiffon Festival...
Beckett Boo, esq.
Cat Blogger Extraordinaire!