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I Threw A Dolphin In The Fire

2003-06-24 - 11:19 p.m.

Mood: Creatively depressed

Listening To: Annie Lennox, Liam Lynch, Coldplay

Quote:"Seriously, the Comic Sans Serif font is smarter than he is." - Zach

[We're sitting here today with Zach Foote. That's Zachary Q. Foote if you're joining us today from a Google search. Zach's agreed to sit down with us and answer a few questions. He tells us it's mostly due to his desire to "jettison segues" in this entry, but we have no idea what that even means. This is Part One of a Two Part, possibly Three Part Interview. The successive parts will be posted in the following days. So now, at your leisure, read The Quibbler's interview with ZQF8.]

Zach was born during the Carter Administration. It's a fitting opening sentence as Zach prides himself of useless, ahem, obscure Presidential trivia. His interests in the Presidents starts at Washington and ends at Clinton. He will not even deem to call G. W. Bush what he calls, "the P word", but simply says, "the man in the White House." Zach, if you haven't guessed, is not a Republican. And, unlike his civil engineer roommate, he does believe in Global Warming. Zach feels that we should add in this introductory paragraph that he was the cause of banning recorders for 2nd Graders at Elm Street School due to him dropping his in the sewer. He also wishes we add that he almost drowned at a place called "Sculptured Rocks" in Alexandria. He also thinks it should be said that Soleil Moon Frye looked better before the triple breast reduction. But who doesn't think that? That and he's still convinced Coty ate all the whoopie pies. But, again, who doesn't think that?

Q: Well, I suppose we ought to get this question out of the way at the beginning. I must ask . . .

Z: The dolphin?

Q: Yes. The dolphin. What happened? What's with all this "I threw a dolphin in the fire!" business? Why a dolphin? Why the fire? Why no muzzle for Brooke?

Z: Ok. Well, I'm not sure where that muzzle question came from. Sounds to me like you've been talking to some other sources. But sure, last weekend, the tail-end of Bike Week, a bunch of us met up at Kristen's at the end of scenic Beech Street. Jimbo, Ben and I had been drinking at Brooke's during the majority of the evening and playing marathon sessions of Dr. Mario. We . . .

Q: Dr. Mario?

Z: [laughs] Yeah. Dr. Mario. I fucking love Dr. Mario. It all came back for Jimbo and I. We kicked ass. It came back, well, it came back a little slower for Ben and Brooke. It probably didn't help that they were drinking while Jimbo and I would play. And Jimbo and my games would last significantly longer than their matches. Not to be mean or anything. But anyway. Dr. Mario kicks ass. And my copy is broken so I never get to play it. Gered Bolduc traded me Dr. Mario for Shadowgate in like 9th fucking grade and I still haven't got Shadowgate back from him and that game was fucking sweet. Scary. But sweet. Good times. Good times. [from left; Jimbo, Zach]

Q: So?

Z: Yeah?

Q: The dolphin? Kristen's?

Z: Right, right. So we didn't even end up leaving Brooke's until midnight to go to KP's. I know, don't ask. Apparently KP and Mike and Mike's friends were all up in the Weirs at some party where some new LHS teacher or coach or something was puking and . . . yeah, like I said, don't ask. At this point, Rich had joined us, as he had just gotten out of The Gap around 11. Seeing as he was sober, the decision was pretty easy to make on who would drive us to KP's. We piled into my car and Rich drove us there. We were already pretty buzzed at this point. Anyway, I must have done something stupidly funny last year in front of Mike's friends because as soon as I walk into the garage, I'm greeted with "Zach!", "Zach, how are ya?!", "Zach, wanna be on our team?" and shit like that. Course, I'm 6'5" too, so that may give me away as well I guess. Anyway. I felt bad, since while these guys had obviously been dreaming about me every night for a year, I couldn't remember any of their names. Outside of Mike and Grub I'm horrible with these guys' names. And Grub wasn't even there. It doesn't help that they all have nicknames or are called partially by their last names. There was Roachy I think. And Mush, bot h of whom were there last year. And . . . Kinickie maybe? Josh? Justin? Tim? I don't know. I know that one of their girlfriend's names was Kristin, because then there was two Kristens. One with "tin" and one with "ten". Wait, that was Mush's girlfriend. Yeah. And Bo was there too.

Q: This is kind of boring.

Z: It is? Oh. Sorry. Should I just get to the part about the dolphin then?

Q: Yeah.

Z: Ok, so fast forward a few hours. Yes, which makes it past 2 in the morning. There’s been lots of Beirut and a marathon Flip Cup game that pitted Team Helmet versus Team Zach. Team Zach failed miserably. Meanwhile, Jimbo skulked about offering up swigs off of his Jagermiester bottle, which while it might have seemed like a fine idea then, looking back, ehh, not so much. Did I mention that Kelly Prescott was there too? And David? And they are both somehow older than me now? Anyway, I passed most of the time I wasn’t playing Flip Cup or Beirut by chucking this little purple plush monkey at Brooke’s head over and over when she wasn’t looking. It was fun. I don’t think she thought so though. At some point I found this little plush dolphin in the garage too. I don’t know why there were so many odd plush toys in the Prescott garage; it was like a breeding ground for Category 8. So this little dolphin stuffed animal was the shit . . . for about 5 minutes. Then he annoyed the living fuck out of everyone. He had this little voice chip in him that made him go “eeeek, eeeeeek, eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek, eek!” when you gently tilted him, or violently shook him. Either way. He kinda looked like this -->

or actually, really a little more like this -->

but definitely nothing like this --> , for rumor on the street is, whatever he HITS he DESTROYS. And you know. The dolphin I had wasn’t so much of a Russian bruiser, ya know?

Q: Did you just do all that so you could merely set up a lame Dolph Lundgren joke?

Z: [sheepishly] Yeah.

Q: Mr. Foote. Please. The Dolphin?

Z: Fine. Fine. And by the way, my dad is Mr. Foote. Call me that again and you’ll be faced with the same fate of the last person that kept calling me that.

Q: And who was that?

Z: Fat Pat Chase.

Q: And what happened to this Fat Pat Chase?

Z: Um . . . she got, like . . .really, really fat.

Q: Noted. Proceed.

Z: So anyway, the dolphin. Yeah. I felt I owed it to McLaughlin to be the one to run around and play the “mischievous prankster” while he’s overseas, so I was gibbering about putting the dolphin on people’s shoulders and making him eeeeek his little dolphin heart out. This, as I mentioned, got old - quick. So then I got an inkling that the best thing to do at this point was to throw the dolphin in the fire. But I'm not stupid. I wanted the attention of the crowd and to be adored by the masses for my immense ingenuity! And by "immense ingenuity", I refer to my idea about throwing the stuffed dolphin in the fire. So I started asking the Mike Pietro friends if they think I should throw Dolphy in the fire. The boys all voted a resounding YES. The girls were of the "I don't know", "It's kinda mean", "I'm on my period" variety of answers. I know this kind of stuff only happens in movies and All-Star Games, but I swear we came to a tie. I was forced to give a last speech to those sitting around the fire to curry some No votes to the Yes side. My main argument was that due to the dolphin being imbedded with a voice chip, my hope was that at the moment of his incineration he would force himself to speak his last words of his little 70% Polyester life; words that would speak to us on what the meaning of life is, the case for a more humanistic world, a joke whose punchline involved a basic knowledge of echo-location - basically, I was hoping for either, "Oh the humanity!" or "Looks like it's gonna be a hot time in the ol' town tonight!" I was really pulling for the second one. Still, amazingly enough, I swayed none of the ovary carriers. [Which, for those of you who find that phrase offensive, I assume you have never met one Phil Brockelman] Anyway, at that point, some random friend of Mike's walked out back and I was like, "Hey. Jobly, or Spazowixki, or whatever the fuck your clever nickname is, do you think I should burn this dolphin alive?" "Shit. Yeah. Go ahead." That's all I needed. So after some trumpeting and appropriate fanfare I hucked Dolphy to his white hot doom. I could have sworn at this point that I heard Kate's voice in the wind murmur something like, "What he incinerated!", but I couldn't be sure. Anyway. This is when the ticker tape parade was supposed to start. I was all ready to be hoisted upon the shoulders of those that hours earlier had fought bravely under the Team Zach banner. Nothing. At first, after the 7 seconds it took Dolphy to totally melt into nothingness with not so much as an "eek", everyone kind of just looked down at their feet. Or took a sip of their drink. Or prayed for Jason Peters. Then, some of the girls were all, "Zach, you really shouldn't have done that." and "I can't believe you just did that!", while from the boys, my ardent supporters I could hear such whispers as "OMG, OMG!" (which was odd, since that phrase doesn't really translate well outside of Instant Messages) and "He really fucking did it!" and "Anti-Dolphite." That last one cut the deepest. Like duodenum deep. Anyway. Before the other shoe could drop, whatever the fuck that means, Jimbo came running around the corner and sprayed Ben with a hose, which set off a water fight that I luckily extricated myself from before it even started. I do recall Ben with a trash barrel so full of water so heavy that he missed his intended target of Jimbo and soaked Naplotski and Wicket and only made things worse. I remember leaving KP's the year before thinking we had made a really good impression on Mike's friends. I fear that our second impression was far more odious. They'll probably make pretend they don't know who we are at the wedding in August. I can't say that I blame them. Meanwhile, Brooke was simmering at us with narrow eyes no doubt doing or saying something muzzle worthy. With it almost being 4 in the morning, Rich drove us home and we all slept at the Culkins. Except for Rich. And Ben. Ok. Just Jimbo and me. Whatever. Can I stop talking about the dolphin story now?

Q: Yes. Now, that next day. Father's Day. You spent the morning with your dad and then had to go to Manchester that night to meet . . .

Z: Chad and Mackenzie, yeah. Ben and I were dog tired. Dawg tired even. But yeah, that morning, I went to my Dad's. I surprised him with that nicely framed photo of my grandfather from WWII that I got back at that family reunion last fall. He was pleased to say the least. I think he almost cried. I couldn't tell. It may have just been the tabasco sauce I put in his contacts. He was all, "I'm glad you decided to get this instead of a DVD Player. That would've been way too expensive." I didn't have the heart to tell him I could have bought him 3 DVD Players for the money it took me to have that picture all niced up and framed. Anyway. He made me scrambled eggs just the way I like them and gave me too small a fork to eat them while we watched the second half of Absolute Power on TNT. The movie's a "New Classic" I hear. He also imparted to me these words of wisdom: "Zach, you have to shave every day! Sunday's not a freebie!" My dad is hilarious. Even if he doesn't know it. Oh oh, and on the way home to the Rollinsford Business District, I stopped at that gas station next to Pizza Express and got a hot dog. You know when you're hungover and you want something greasy or starchy real bad? {Being hungover makes me want a hot dog real bad} So I pronged a hot dog out of the steamer and paid for it along with my gas and Aquafina and left for home. Except, here's the best part. I didn't grab a hot dog. I accidentally grabbed a CHEESE FILLED SAUSAGE. Oh baby. Had my ship come in or what?! Don't you love when you expect life to give you a hot dog and it delivers unto you a cheese filled sausage instead? Especially in its literal translation?! It was really great. A special time in a young boys life for sure. Yup.

Q: So?

Z: Hmmm?

Q: Chad? And Mackenzie?

Q: Right right. I forgot. So Ben and I were pretty useless all Sunday. We mustered the energy around 5 to go buy some crackers and garlic cheese as our "housewarming / thank you for having us for dinner, here is a little appetizery thing" gift. We made it to Manchester about an hour later. They live like 5 minutes from the New Hampshire Mall. We passed the Manchester Taco Bell on the way to their house. Ben reminded me when that was the closest Taco Bell to LA and how Tim Curtis and I would salivate for it anytime we came near Manchester and would buy buckets of tacos not knowing when or if we'd ever be back. Ugh. Now I'm within 200 steps of a Taco Bell at all times. The honeymoon is most certainly over. One time, Tim convinced us, on the way to Granite State Challenge, which was being held at UNH, that stopping at the Manchester Taco Bell was on the way. So we went. We made it to UNH with seconds to spare. Good times. Good times.

Q: Chad and Mackenzie?

Z: Argh. I know. I mean, I forgot again. I was talking about tacos. Bye, bye mailbox. They have a cool house that was built in the 50's, but especially looking at the old photos of the interior, you can see they've put loads of work into it. We met their new cat Olly (is Sifl far behind? Chad says no. Mackenzie says yes.) Olly was a trifle shy. But that's ok. Chef Chen Kenichi is still scared of his feet. They have a cool "bachelor pad-esque" basement that Chad plans to outfit soon with a pool table. Very cool. Chad made up some of his soon-to-be-famous penne a la vodka. Which made me want to shout out "Pasta's Penne!" But no one outside of Ricky, Scarab, Arthur, Stephanie and the Colonel Sanders statue in Springfield that has the soul essense of Katie Hallum trapped inside would have gotten it, and none of them were there. So I didn't say it. Chad topped it with this broccoli/bacon sauce that he sauteed up. It was really fucking good. And Mackenzie made this desert that was part angel food cake, part jello, and 100% tasty. Ha ha! I feel like I should be writing this Presher Food Review for the paper! "Oh Chairman Kaga, the garlic bread was making a symphony of flavors in my mouth!" I looked at some photos from the wedding that I hadn't seen and sadly, Tim's purple passion shirt was nowhere in sight in any of the photos. For shame. Another picture that wasn't in it that really would have jazzed up the book was this one:

Anyway. I'm glad we went. They had a cool place. And dinner was really good. Plus, we never get to see Chad and Mackenzie. Also, they had a cool ass laundry chute. Webster would love to kick it at the Presher's phat pad.

Q: How about a picture of She-Hulk?

Z: Good call. How about this? This picture serves two purposes. One it enables me to say "She-Labia", which is a Maxim joke that I've been trying in vain to work into an entry and two it will remind me in the future when I look back upon this sure-to-be-historic interview about the rage I was feeling towards Marvel about all the editorial fuck-ups and politics swirling around Fantastic Four at the moment. Bill Jemas is truly a malodorous toad and I hope that he gets carried off into the Forbidden Forest and molested by a band of bellicose centaurs. Is there really any other way? I think not.

Q: Anything else before we break for Part 2?

Z: Um. Did I mention about me eating the ant?

Q: No. We're gonna cover that in the next part.

Z: Oh. Ok. Well, I would like to mention that on the way home from work tonight I came upon an accident on the Spaulding Turnpike that had happend about 45 seconds before I got there. One car was cut almost in half. Teenagers were running around yelling but no one, miraculously, seemed seriously hurt. I had pulled over into the breakdown lane to see if anyone needed me to call someone. They said the cops had already been called. As another car pulled up to a stop behind me I heard the deafening sound of brakes screeching and then the sound of crushing metal barreling towards me. I freaked the fuck out. A truck, who hadn't been paying attention, had smashed into the car behind me. I thought that car would be pushed into mine. There was nothing I could do. There was nowhere to move to nor the time to think of something. I just instinctually gripped my steering wheel and held my breath. Nothing happened. A teenage girl came up to my window and asked if I was alright. I told her I was. She told me to be careful of all the debris in the road. I told her I would. Then the cops and the fire trucks and ambulances showed up. I drove away slowly as I turned the volume back up in my car. Jim Morrison told me that she was a "Twentieth Century Fox." As I took Exit 8E I thought to myself, I'm not one for anniversaries. But then Luka told me, "Don't be sad. It's alright. It's a good memory."

[Thank you again Zach! Tune in tomorrow and we'll cover the craze around Harry Potter 5, adventures amidst the Ammo Dump, eating insects, going away parties, black and white pictures, Nanny's birthday, Radiohead tickets, and maybe even a free Guster concert!]

It's been real,

Aberforth

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