Vancouver 2010, February 26th (Presented By Lost: The Final Season). { 0 }
(Previously on Vancouver 2010.)
Al and I ran toward the crack in the ice. No sign of Tonya Harding. She must’ve fell in or jumped in or clubbed her way in with a back metal pipe or something.
Tired of being in hell and tired of being hot and tired of listening to the 2058 Winter Olympics from Iceland over loud crackling AM speakers and tired of drinking flat tepid tonic water and tired of seeing nothing but Weird Al videos and tired of not being able to tell day and night apart because hell always looks like one big orange flaming fire of hellishness, I decided to take the plunge into the crack in the ice.
When in Rome do as Tanya Harding does, is what I like to say.
The feeling of falling was immediate. The cold hit me fast. I heard Weird Al from above saying beat it and I replied don’t you mean eat it and I heard Al say good one. I was falling. And fast. I was cold. And nipply. Where would I land? Or better still, when would I land? Did it matter? Where was Tonya Harding?
The moral of this post? Weird Al is not leaving hell anytime soon. He likes the music there.
Leave a Reply