So if you didn’t get the memo about the musical clue dropped on the way to here from Fred’s place or if you aren’t part of the masses trying to decipher Hasty’s very sincere poem to avoid turning Japanese, then you must get caught up to the goings on and fast, so here goes. On this day some 43 or 84 or 125 (he says he’s really old yet I have no idea how old he really is) years ago, Mr. Edward Hotspur, in his human form arrived on the planet. His blog form arrived later but that’s the one we know and love but we need to honor the human behind the curtain and we are doing that by utilizing a device invented by our honoree, a Hotspurian Choose Your Own Adventure, to be played out amongst blog friends, so if you are arriving in the middle which is where we are right now, then you probably are no more confused than anyone else so welcome! (And if this is your first time visiting my little corner of the beach, take a deep breath because I can really run on with a sentence and I enjoy using the occasional parenthetical aside.) Now back to the adventure you have chosen.
Granite Countertop (For those of you arriving in the middle, this is the 1940s film noir version of Edward Hotspur. Think Humphrey Bogart meets Cary Grant. Of course, it’s possible that this is the first time Granite Countertop’s name has come up because it’s possible I didn’t read the other posts that led you here before I wrote this. Not only is it possible, it is indeed what happened.) knew he had found the best band no one had ever heard of and he knew that if he could finagle his way into managing them, they could be the next big thing on the music scene and he would be rich beyond his wildest dreams and could leave all those gin joints behind, but then he bumped into that interstellar vixen from the good ship Innerthighs and now he couldn’t remember that snippet of song or the name of the band that no one had ever heard of and no one could help him because it was a band no one had ever heard of, and it was then that he realized he would never be rich beyond his wildest dreams.
But even worse than forgetting the best band no one has ever heard of thus crushing his wildest rich dreams, he began to get that odd feeling that he was turning Japanese. All he knew about turning Japanese he learned from The Vapors and if their Turning Japanese was the be all and end all of what it means to turn Japanese, then he wanted nothing to do with it as he seemed to recall that there were quite a few things on that list of no can dos that he could not do without. He needed to find a gin joint, preferably one that served tequila.
A shot or four of tequila later, and Granite Countertop felt a tingling in his nether regions. At first he thought it must be one of those Innerthighs freakazoids back to have a little fun as he had noticed them cavorting on the dance floor through the smokey haze that hung in the Space Bar and it would be just his bad luck to turn Japanese right when those easy sleazy super freaky divas are getting drunk and letting go of their inhibitions. Of all the gin joints and Space Bars in the universe, they had to show up now, in this one, while his nether regions were tingling. Vibrating, more than tingling. It was his phone with an urgent text message from a shiny little minx that captivated his imagination and never ceased to heat up his nether regions.
But now, was not the time for distractions and if it was a time for distractions, Granite Countertop would have been distracted by the erotic text of the Sparklebumps kind because she had just texted him and she just had that effect on him especially when she sat in his lap letting her large bosoms rub against his chest, but instead of enjoying thoughts of rubbing large bosoms, he was pondering the inappropriate use of puns to convey a storyline as his arch nemesis in the world of inappropriate puns had challenged him to do in a text he received immediately prior to the erotic teasings of his favorite bosom buddy, but of course, when the challenge was put forward he hadn’t known he might be distracted by large bosoms and super freaks of the interstellar kind.
We have come to that point in the Choose Your Own Adventure where you, the reader, must make a choice. Do you want to bear witness to the greatest battle of wits using nothing but inappropriate puns or would you like to be seductively teased by the sparkly diva, herself, or would you, much like me, like to have your cake and a very attractive member of the opposite sex to feed it to you, because you can click on both options just not at the same time.
Oh yeah, and be sure to stop by Mr.Hotspur’s place and wish him a Happy Birthday.
Catch up on all the Edward Hotspur birthday fun by visiting all the participants. The order matters not unless it is important for it to make sense then the order might matter though there is a chance that even keeping to a strict order will not help matters because sense is not always found in order, but it’s a chance you’ll have to take and only then will you be able to say if it made sense.