Fizzo's New Idea!

More Fizzo, baby!

 

     He set down the almost-empty bottle of Ineebrew Ale, which soon would be joining the eleven empty soldiers already back in the half rack and picked up the channelcorker for the boobatron with disinterest.  He flipped through the channels, finally ending up on channel 1,235; a show entitled "I Can See Your Gonads", about a cross-dressing private detective.  It was based on an Earth word; he failed to understand why anything Earth was all-the-rage, when to him Earth was an insignificant little orb out in the hind quarters of nowhere.  They had recently conquered it, although 'conquered' made it sound much harder than it had been.  The life-forms there had basically rolled over and gone tits-up.  He didn't even care about watching the show anyway, as his mind was focused on ways to make a caylon.  He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror next to the boobatron.  What he saw reflected would have been rather embarrassing, if he gave a s**t.   A three days growth of stubble made him resemble a goru more than a lizard.  His long, unruly hair hung in greasy streamers out from under his Fighting Amphibians hat.  He didn't even follow gorky ball, but had found the hat outside a tavern, apparently the victim of disgust by a disappointed Fighting Lizard fan (nothing new there; the team had been sucking saltwater down its blow hole for years!) but he'd just been too bummed to shower or even to wash his hair. 

 

 

******

 

 

     His head was lolling back and forth on the end of his neck when he suddenly snapped awake.  Disoriented, he looked around groggily to try and figure out where he was.  After a few seconds he remembered.  He had passed out in front of the boobatron.  He went to shut it off when a  commercial playing caught his attention.

 

     "...you think you've got what it takes to be the next Fundar Vesuvius?  Frustrated because your Uncle Devlon always laughs his backside off at family get-togethers, and you say to yourself,

 

     "I know I'm funny, damn it; forget the fact that Uncle Devlon is pissing on his own foot-arm he's so drunk, I'm certain of it!  The question is, there's no way to prove it, right?" 

 

     "Well, hold  the holcoder, Charlie, now there is!  New from Laugh Like A Gothar Productions, it's  'Amateur S**t to Amateur Star!', your chance to prove all those doubters, like your parents, wrong, wrong, wrong!  Simply send us a check or money order for only 15,000 crotons to the address listed at the end of this advertisement, answer a few simple questions on our 'Laughability Survey', to make sure you have humor potential; oh, and fill out the rest of our 22 page questionnaire, but you'd have to be pretty lousy not to pass the 'Laughability Survey'; so send us the cash, get ready for laughs!"

 

     Fizzo, for the first time in a long time felt hope.  He had always thought he had the chops to be a comedian, damn it!  Imagine, him on the same bill as Fundar Vesuvius, only the greatest comic in three sectors.  Suddenly the wanting to hurl Elusive Neon Candlelit Donkey Dance was forgotten.  

 

 

******

 

 

     A few days later the 'Laughability Survey' and the questionnaire arrived in the mail; he had eagerly but reluctantly sent in the crotons; sure, it hurt, using up the last of his meager savings, but it was a small price to pay to unlock his future! 

 

 

     A day and a half later, he had finally finished filling out the questionnaire; or so it seemed; man, the questions were a b***h!  Questions that seemingly had little to do with whether or not he was funny; take the one asking him for his checking account number; what's up with that?  But he had answered them all; he supposed they had a legitimate reason for wanting the answer to that one; companies, right?  Now all he had left to fill out was the 'Laughabilty Survey'.  He took it out and began reading.

 

     "Please fill in the appropriate punch line for each of the following; 

     1.  Two Trotter-Beasts walk into a bar, and the bartender says;  A.  "Hey, why the long faces?"  B.   "Cement, gentleman?"  or C.  "You two puff-lizards get out of here!"  

     Question 2;  You're eating dinner at a fancy dining establishment, when a friend spots you and says 'Mind if I join you?"  You reply; 

     A.  "Why, am I coming apart?"  

    

     B.  "As long as you leave first!",  

 

     C.  "F**k you!"

 

     There were several more question along the same lines, then came Part 2;  "Please fill in the rest of the joke; we'll supply the punch line;

     Joke 1; the punch line is; "Three acidic Flowing Trunkars"  The joke is; 

     A.  "What tastes like chicken?"  

     B.  "What tastes like raw sewage?" 

     C.  What tastes like a Bongo A*s Tree?"

     Fizzo was finding these questions slightly more challenging to answer.  Let's see, I have no idea what a chicken is, I don't make a habit of eating raw sewage, therefore, that leaves only the Bongo A*s Tree; nasty stuff! 

 

 

******

 

 

     There, he had answered all the questions and was confident he would pass.  After all, hadn't they said it was tough to not pass?

 

 

     A few days later he received an envelope from 'Laugh Like a a Gothar Productions'.  He was mostly excited but nervous as he tore open the envelope. 

 

      "Dear sir, after carefully reviewing your application we have decided that you've failed to qualify.  We're returning you application fee, minus processing charges.  We're sorry you failed to qualify, but encourage you to keep honing your craft and maybe in the future, apply again.  Sincerely, Candong Reaver, president."

 

    What; he had failed?  Surely there must be a mistake!  He was so upset and angry that he completely missed the obvious Shirley joke, but then that particular joke would have only been funny on Earth.    

 

 

The End

Reviews

[Marie]

I think Fizzo is already hilarious. Shirley must have made a mistake.

[Michael Stevens]

Shirley I thank you much, Marie!