Past Imperfect

Past Imperfect – #504

Brian, left: “What the hell are you doing? I’m standing here looking incredibly sexy even though there seems to be something neutered going on with my pants.”

Mary, right: “I’m just so fed up with people I want to scream and bang on something loud.”

Brian: “Okay. Are these people you don’t like off to our right? What are you looking at? Is there a script over there? Because I’m not really sure where we’re going with this scene.”

Mary: “No, Neuter Pants. I’m checking to see if I have a pop-up on my laptop.”

Brian: “That sounds like a medical condition. Do I need to call somebody? And what would I tell them if I did?”

Mary: “You seem a bit slow, so this might not sink in, but I have it set up so that every time there’s a new post on Crusty Pie or Bonnywood Manor I get an alert.”

Brian: “That sounds like a medical condition and an insane asylum. Why do you care what happens there?”

Mary: “Because he gets me.”

Brian: “Is he a bounty hunter? Have you done something that I should know about?”

Mary: “You are really starting to annoy me. Can you go be pretty somewhere else?”

Brian: “Well, actually, no. I sold the shirt off my back just so I could get another beer on Bourbon Street and now I don’t have any money for the city bus. So I’m stuck here until we get free public transportation or the writer of this piece figures out where the story is going.”

Mary: “Hmm. You sound a little bit like Brian right now.”

Brian: “Probably because my name is Brian.”

Mary: “No, not you Brian, the other Brian, the one who writes the two blogs I just mentioned mere seconds ago in this dialogue. Why is it so hard for you to keep up?”

Brian: “Probably because I’m just a guy in a random black-and-white photo that is being forced to speak dialogue that he never would have uttered just so some random blogger can vainly try to up his traffic stats. This is getting far too meta for someone without a shirt to comprehend. And yet… I feel compelled to participate in this cavalcade of surrealism.”

Mary: “That’s the clincher! Brian… well, the other Brian, seduces you with his twisty ways until you become addicted, at least in his own mind, and you can’t help but yearn for another fix. And like I said, he totally gets me. I can rant away about how Not-My-President Trump is a tiny-fingered psychopath and Brian is right there clicking his approval like a woodpecker.”

Brian: “Brian seems amazingly sage and wise. Does he know why you’re wearing a royal gown and a crown?”

Mary: “Oh, that. Well, he might not be quite up to speed with this development, but in order to deal with the outrage of Trump, I had to create my own country where I could live until he’s impeached or the mothership transports him back to Planet Cheeto. And since I took the time to create this other country, I think I should be the queen of it, right?”

Brian: “Well, I don’t really know about that. But I do know that you look strikingly similar to a young Jessica Tandy.”

Mary: “And you look like a younger Marlon Brando. Weren’t they in a play together a couple of centuries ago? Something to do with New Orleans and poor choices and a streetcar named… what was it?”

The Other Brian: “Desire. Or Hope. Or Change. Or Why the Hell Can’t People Just Do the Right Thing Instead of Being Self-Obsessed Wankers without Compassion for Their Fellow Man.”

Brian: “I rather like him.”

Mary: “Yeah, well, don’t get too enamored. He has his moments, but he can be a little crotchety sometimes.”


Note 1: This post is a shout-out to Mary at It’s All In Perception. She hinted that she would like to appear in a Past Imperfect, and I know a guy who can make that happen…

Note 2: Originally published in “Crusty Pie” on 03/16/17. I realize it’s only been a mere 7 months since that post, and I usually try to let things marinate on Crusty longer than that before I pull them over here to Bonnywood, but this piece seems more relevant with each passing day, much to my chagrin. Besides, it’s nearly 1am and I still haven’t made a decision about my regular midnight post and, yeah, we’ll go with this one. Cheers.


25 replies »

    • Yes, I realize that sometimes I dwell a bit too much on The Cheeto. (He just irks the hell out of me.) But really, if you ingore what’s bugging you, it’s just going to fester. Get it out and let it go… 😉

      Liked by 1 person

      • Yep – and since I try to avoid all but mental & physical health-related politics on my own blog, I get a chance to “get it out and let it go” on the blogs that do take Orange and his ilk to task.

        Simply a comment on my state of mind last nite – not a bid for you to censure yourself or change a thing (even if I thought you’d even care what I thought about it – lol)

        Blog on, my friend! I’ll keep reading.

        Liked by 1 person

  1. M: Did you GET it???
    B: Huh? (B ((not YOU, that one you’re using as a symbol up there)) is indeed glorious in physical form and the Universe does NOT usually give beauty and brains to the same vessel. Things explode if that happens)
    M: That MOTH. OMG!! It was HUGE. It has sullied my finery with its lust for cloth related munchies…you didn’t think “we” (royal we) would wear RAGS did you?? Not on purpose certainly! Not even if those so-called ‘fashion designers’ say it’s vogue..
    B: Um. (B isn’t verbose in my spin on your Crusty Pie at Bonnywood story). Where is it??
    M: I don’t KNOW. It buzzed in, ripped my inadequate bodice, gnawed on my hemline, and in general did moth things to my clothes. I feel almost nekkid now!!
    B: Well whaddya want ME to do about it? It obviously didn’t come after me…
    M: (Staring wildly off to the left? Right? Aw poo)…Is.. is… that it coming BACK? I can’t take another nibblefest or my girls ARE going to make a very public appearance right here in front of this vast audience that came to worship at the Church of Brian. OH GOD!! It IS!! (tries vainly to scramble away, but B has her gown clutched in his brawny paw)
    B: (carefully wrinkling his noble brow)…Uh, do you know where the fly swatter is perchance? I suppose it’s useful for all sorts of winged beasties that throw silly females into a tiz…. Oh dear LORD. You didn’t say it was a MUTANT MOTH! Step aside or get trampled.
    Mothra phobia takes no prisoners…

    Liked by 2 people

    • Oh my god, I am almost aroused at how twisted and fun this bit is. We really need to work on something togeth-… wait a minute, we ARE working on something, and it just hit me that I haven’t received your return from my last sally. Or have you responded and Gmail has done something untoward and reprehensible with your submission? (I’ve been scouring both accounts and I haven’t seen anything that I recall.) If you haven’t sent anything, please don’t take this as any kind of pressure, I just thought I’d better check…


    • Should I assume that you found Mary at “It’s All In Perception” and you enjoy her world as much as I, or am I completely missing something brilliant you are expressing but I’m not mentally tall enough to ride this ride?…

      Liked by 1 person

      • Your assumption is correct (did you know that 15th August is Assumption Day … not being Catholic I take it that I can just not think anything through that day and rely entirely on my finely honed intuition) The Catholic calendar holds that this was the day Mary rose into Heaven. This feels appropriate … as though we have had a deeply spiritual conversation. Of sorts.

        Liked by 1 person

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