FTSF: Ray Guns, Flying Waterbeds & Tanya Roberts

It's 10:25 p.m.!

I haven't written a thing for FTSF.

I'm either going to have to come up with something decent to write about in the next few minutes, or quietly bow out of the blog hop this week.

How does one 

loudly bow out?  

"Hey everyone, I'm going to stay out of circulation this week!  Just wanted all of you to know it!  Why?  Because I'm so damn wonderful, I know all of you will miss me if I'm not here!  So, here I go ... I'm bowing out now!"

That's not really bowing out.

It's more like ego announcing withdrawal symptoms! 

It's like an actor turning down a role in a movie.  You usually don't find out about it unless the movie turns out to be a huge success.  Then, all of a sudden, the actor goes on every talk show available to tell of how he made a mistake in not taking the role offered.  So, in essence, he becomes a part of the movie's success by hanging on its coat tail.

Obviously, I'm not going to bow out.  I'm probably going to continue to type with hopes of something miraculous occurring.

I need a movie role!

In My Waterbed Jet, I Could Save The World!!!!

I can see myself in the lead of a major blockbuster.  I'm the old, experienced coot that knows right from wrong and how to do what the young whippersnappers (I love that word, lol) only wish they could.  I'm flying around the world in my specialized waterbed, surrounded by a climate controlled force field, shooting out rays that will change the attitudes of greed, revenge, hatred, and stupidity.  Politicians are trying to hide, yet, sticking their heads up their butts still leaves them completely exposed (more so than one would like to visualize).  

I'm soaring at speeds that allow me to cover the entire face of the Earth in a matter of days.  Missiles are aimed and shot at me by the North Koreans, but expectantly fall into the ocean as they miss their target.  Suicide bombers are awaiting me on every television transmitting tower, but only succeed in blowing up the signal that provides Honey Boo Boo and South Beach Towing re-runs.  Rap music becomes extinct as suddenly as there is no more violence, bitches, or whores to rap about.  The land is quiet as car stereos lose their need for 78 inch woofers and 15,000 watt systems.

But, this doesn't come without a price.  The result of being in close proximity to the rays has a damaging affect on me.  The world, recognizing what has been achieved, demands scientists spend every waking moment finding a cure to my ailment.  My time is short.

Yet, I have never stood in front of the ray, so I am not as the rest of the human race.  I still can feel the hatred, anger, revenge, and greed that exists no where else.  I have decisions to make.  Should I use my remaining time on Earth to amass tremendous power and fortune from those too naive to see what I could accomplish?  Or, as many would hope, will I allow myself to die in my flying waterbed honorably as an example for the human race to follow?

No, damn it, I haven't come up with the ending yet!   

Anyway, this is another Finish The Sentence Friday.  Yep, here's the expected JPEG.

Oh, and this week, Katia from I Am The Milk is also co-hosting.  

(Okay, the basics are all covered.)

Today's prompt is:

"If I could have dinner with anyone in history 

it would be with...."

Now, most of you are probably betting I'd say God.  However, after last week's posting about God Taking A Dump, I'm gonna lay off the big guy for a while.  His (or her, Cyndi) sense of humor probably has limits, and to be blunt, I don't need another week of bad luck like I've experienced this week.  

So, since it wasn't specified that this be singular, I'm going to say, 

"If I could have dinner with anyone in history 

it would be Mel Brooks, Woody Allen, 

Carol Burnette, Gene Wilder, Tim Conway, Johnny Carson, Bobby Knight 

and Tanya Roberts 

(for eye candy ... I'm old but I'm not dead)."

Six masters of comedy, one master of motivation, and one beautiful woman that deserves a special and private desert with me after the meal.  (I'm thinking strawberries and whipped cream ... a lot of strawberries and whipped cream ... like maybe a bushel of strawberries and five or six cans of whipped cream ... well, maybe not a bushel, but you get the picture!)

Johnny would have to keep things under control as I'm sure things would quickly get completely crazy  otherwise.  I can see him directing the serving staff as to who to serve first and what they would be fed.  When in doubt, he could pull out his turban and do his Carnac the Magnificent bit to hush the occupants.

Mel and Woody would have to be seated apart from each other to keep the conversation from being monopolized by Jewish jokes, as would Tim and Carol to avoid an evening of television re-run boredom.  I'm sure Gene could keep Bobby in stitches with stories about slapstick antics with Richard Pryor, and Bobby could get the whole group roaring by demonstrating proper chair throwing techniques by taking out an overhead chandelier!   

Of course, there's only so many chairs in the place, so Tanya would have to spend the remaining part of the meal sitting in my lap.  (Hey, a true gentleman has to make sacrifices!)

All said and done, the comedy secrets and education that one could get from these comic geniuses would be unequaled to years of effort.  Bobby's direction in motivation could be a tremendous advantage to working towards success.  And, Tanya ... well, Tanya would just make the evening complete!   

I can see her and I jumping into my flying waterbed and enjoying an evening under the stars as we soared by the light of a full moon.

"NO!  Tanya .... 

don't touch that Ray Gun!!!!!"

Oh well......