Roller Coaster
Predator Press [LOBO]
I don't even wear glasses.
And why I would spend $300 on a pair is totally beyond me.
But dammit, If I'm gonna spend 300 bones on glasses, I am going to wear them.
Normally when you get your eyes dilated for a vision test, they will make you wait around for a little while until your vision returns. But the gnarly-toed hippopotamus woman who gave me the exam seemed strangely anxious to see me go.
There's only so long I can sit around and comment on her lack of shaving prowess anyway.
I'm a busy guy.
With the case and receipts in a little plastic bag, I step out of the LensCrafters and navigate through the crowded mall sort of leering at people. What good are $300 glasses if you can't leer at people?
See these glasses buddy?
$300.
I didn't even take the tags off.
But no one really seemed to care. Everyone was in this big line to get on the escalator. The announcement board to the left at first revealed only stick figures fornicating. But with a little squinting -and $300 glasses- I see it says:
One Night Only
GEORGE LUCAS
George Lucas? I'm thinking. I love that guy!
I shoulda bought a pair of these years ago.
Numerous thrown elbows saves me a lot of time, and soon I'm in the restaurant. It's a classy place: the aroma of French food and soft plinketty-plink music fills the air. The roof is angled panes of immaculately clear glass, and offers a view of the full moon and thousands of stars.
Were I able to see it, it would have been breathtaking.
And all around are other celebrities. In fact -as I was by myself- I couldn't have my own table: the waiter made me sit with Chevy Chase and Beverly D'Angelo. Even the guy bussing the tables was famous. I couldn't think of his name, but he had been in countless martial arts movies. You know, the guy with the Fu Manchu mustache?
I wasn't very hungry, but the waiter wouldn't let me stay if I didn't order. So I ordered baked Alaska, country fried steak, four pork chops, lobster tails, chicken fingers, waffles with extra powdered sugar and a diet Coke. And when the food came, I eyed Beverly warily as I set my $300 glasses precariously on the far edge of the table.
I had barely started my second pork chop before I realized that George Lucas was sitting right next to us.
"George!" I exclaim, running over. "I loved 'The Empire Strikes Back'!"
"¿Qué?" he smiles politely.
"Oh, it was great," I says. "That movie had everything. Giant metal dogs 'an spaceships." I point my fingers like guns at him, "Pew! Pew-Pew! How did you get away with filming a brother 'an sister making out without the Catholics comin down on you?""Perdón; Con permiso -"
"I never knew you were Hispanic."
Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see Fu Manchu bussing my table. "Hey!" I says. "I'm not done!"
Fu glares. "Sir, there are other customers waiting. We need this seat."
"I'm not done!" I repeat.
Fu bows slightly, and I return my attention to George. "You know, you should lay off with the whole 'Star Wars' thing for a while. The new stuff is crap. You're totally wrecking it for the rest of us."
"Señor-"
"Yes. In fact, I've got just the project for you." Flipping a script out of my jacket pocket, I flop it right on his Crepes Suzette. And making inverted twin "L"s with my fingers, I stare upwardly through them. "It's called 'LOBO: The Motion Picture'. Hey, why are you sitting by yourself? Can I join you?"
"¿Comprende usted?," he says.
I hear the sound of glass and silverwear, and realize Fu is scooping my food into a grey plastic tub!
I return to my table, furious. "Goddamnit Beverly! Why didn't you say something?"
"Hey buddy," demands Chevy. "I think it's time for you to go." Standing abruptly, he bumps the table and my $300 glasses fall to the floor.
Without missing a beat, Fu's heel lands squarely on them with a sickening crunch.
"You BASTARD!" I wail. "Those were $300!"
"Please come again," says Fu, disinterestedly heading for the bar.
"I want to talk to the manager!" I command. Glancing at the next table, I see Jim Carrey.
"Jim!" I says. "Did you see that?"
"What?" says Jim, confused.
"That dude just trashed my glasses!" I scoop the pieces off of the floor. "These damn things were $300!"
"I'm sorry," says Jim, squirming slightly.
"Do you know who runs this place?"
Jim points cautiously at a blond guy at the bar.
"Thanks," I says, grabbing my plastic bag. "By the way, you were freakin' awesome in The Shawshank Redemption."
Jim just kind of gives me a weird smile.
Man, what the hell is wrong with these people?
I go over to the bar, and the blonde guy is Nick Nolte.I love Nick Nolte!
"Nick!" I says excited. "'48 Hours' was the best movie I've ever seen!"
Nick shakes my hand nervously. "Well, I liked 48 Hours too. But I'm-"
"Man, your hands are soft," I observe. "What was it like working with Eddie Murphy?" But there's something else odd about Nick. Examining his sunburned forehead, I see the top half is a pasty fish white. "Is that a toupee?"
"No. I fell asleep in the beach with a cap on."
"Oh c'mon. What are you now, like, 60? Nobody's got long blonde hair when they're 60."
"Can I help you?"
Fu, washing glasses in the sink, nods at me indifferently. "This man say I broke his glasses."
"You totally did break my glasses, you jerk!"
Nick just kind of blinks at me.
Reaching into my Lenscrafters bag, I pull out the receipt. "I just got them today. They were $300!"
Nick blinks again.
"One or both of you should pay for them," I implore. "Plus maybe something extra for psychological trauma ... like maybe I eat here for free for life or something."
Nick stares at me for a long moment. "Well," he says finally. "If you didn't have your glasses on, how do you know he broke them?"
"Damn you and your infallible logic!" I scream. Then, seizing Nick's toupee, I dive through the crowd for the fire escape.
I sat up, sweaty and out of breath.
"What's the matter baby?" says Terri sleepily.
"I just had the craziest nightmare!"
"That's strange," she says, hugging me. "So did I. I dreamed we were riding on a roller coaster, and a tornado was tearing up the place."
"Wow," I concede. "That is weird."
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