Lame (pronounced ‘Lamie” or more phonetical “le mi”) Chadsworth Bogddownington would wait another half an hour in line at the pharmacy he thought. They were having trouble with their database, and had no paper whatsoever to write anything down. The pharmacy stank of sterile, was being vociferated by a baby with a fever and its frantic mother, felt well air-conditioned for winter and Lame was eating ju-ju-bees. As he was often wont to do, Lame’s eyes would hop from one magazine cover to the other, until he had read them all on the store-length shelf that his wait in line would travel along.
Lame had a general feeling of good cheer this morning, this year of our lord 2069. His mind was absolutely aflutter, as he had had two cups of coffee, was going to a party that night, and was considering the wealth of possibilities the time from now to then could bring. Also, there were some very interesting magazine cover stories, “Belinda Boutier Blimps 200lbs!!” “Plutonium-Powered Drying Machines Are Probably Lethal Now!” and “Bat Boy Sighted in Bathroom” were among these periodicals. When Lame finally looked back at how the line was progressing he noticed it was gone and the Pharmacist was flipping around the open sign to closed. The clock said that six hours had gone while Lame noticed magazine covers.
“Wait!” yelled Lame to the pharmacist, “I must get this filled!”
The pharmacist, a heavy set man who had advanced physical features due to pharmacological-bio-upgrades, like eyes that popped out in stalks so he could look behind him, looked behind him and felt sorry for the young man. He knew for whatever reason he hesitated to fill his prescription, Lame had not done purposefully, but in error. Hell, he had watched the boy stand glossy-eyed eying glossies all day!
“I think he has a fever, but we will get you your prescription, Mr. Lame” replied the Pharmacist with it’s upgraded surround-sounding mouth.
They went to counter where the TI-DrugTzar, a robot that was the database for everyone’s drugs, was. But just as well as its organization of personal drug files, TI also dispatched the drugs. The Pharmacist was right in saying that today this machine was running hot. He scanned Lame’s tongue and TI bleeped and blooped. Then the machine started shrieking, “AAAAHHHHH MY CIRCUITS ARE LIKE CAPACITORS RIGHT NOW!!! OWWCHIE CHIHUAHUA!” and then it’s warning light turned on, and then it started smoking, but then it dispensed Lame’s prescription. Lame was overjoyed to check this one off his list. He shook the Pharmacist flipper/bottle-opener hand.
When Lame got home, after staring at a fence for twenty minutes, he realized something was wrong about his prescription. Lame took a prescription for a space-aged, highly severe attention deficit disorder. He hadn’t taken any yet, but noticed that included with his prescription was a machine. There was sticker decal on this little machine, which read, “Distractionucer.” The machine held an heir of mystery that would prove to stick to Lame for a long time.
The party, which was a backyard barbecue thing was going to start in two hours. Lame thought that was lame and decided he needed to distract himself with something until then. Then he thought he should examine that mysterious machine that came with his prescription of space Methylphenidate. He was just about to when the insatiable urge to use the bathroom came upon him, but it was no matter. Into the bathroom Lame and the Distractionucer went.
While on the toilet, Lame would get to the bottom of just what the Distractionucer was. The first thing he noticed was how sticky his hands were getting holding it. Lame would give the Distractionucer that, it certainly was distractingly sticky. That was because the housing holding of the machine was made out of a jello alloy that reformed back into a semi solid when it was left untouched, making the distractionucer indestructible. The next thing Lame noticed was the three labeled toggle switches reading, “LOW”, “MED” and “HI.” Finally, even though they had been obsolete for years in the year 2069, Lame noticed the extendable power chord protruding slightly from the jello. Lame didn’t think this was a major detail at first, but there was a pronounced shutter in the middle in the middle of the machine that was currently closed. He didn’t waste anytime however plugging the machine into the bathroom wall.
The distractionucer glowed as power came into itself. Then it made a sound that sounded a lot like the start-up sound of an Apple computer. Without thinking Lame toggled the toggle switch labeled “LOW.” The distractionucer’s shutter opened and a small bright red ball popped out and landed on the bathroom floor. Lame thought the ball was one of the cutest rubber balls he had ever seen and admired it for a time. Then Lame snapped out of it and fully realized what he had in his hand, which was machine that could produce different acuteness of all manner of distractions with the flip of a switch, a distraction producer, a Distractionucer! Lame now felt lucky to have such a device and also realized he was so distracted by the ball so much he had stopped pooping.
Lame decided there was no time to waste and he couldn’t get the distractionucer out of the house fast enough for some real-life application. At this time some other people, bank robbers, to be exact, were also devising how to get out of a place fast enough, and that place was a bank. The head bank robber told his crew that they would stage a distraction of a confidant bank worker faking a seizure so they could slip in, steal money, and slip out unnoticed. It just so happened that both Lame and the bank robbers would go to the same bank for the same purpose- distraction-making.
Lame entered the bank. The bank robbers entered the bank. Lame started filling out his deposit slip next to an outlet- he really did have to make a deposit. The bak robbers approached their confidant teller wearing low-slung sombreros. Just as the teller was about to go into fake convulsions, he heard the distractionucer’s start-up sound. This time Lame jiggled the “MED” switch, the shutter opened and out popped a medium-sized distraction. That distraction was a tawdry juggling circus clown who also happened to be constantly vomiting and on fire. The clown was juggling electric eels that were shocking him sporadically. What the bank robbers didn’t know was that their confidant ‘s father was a circus clown who died in a tent fire.
“Daddy! Noooo!” yelled the hysterical teller confidant, rushing over, dousing his coffee into the upchucking clown’s face.
“You fool! We are trying to commit a robbery here!” said the head bank robber.
“WHAT?!?” said the behemoth security guard, who could easily apprehend three robbers, behind the three robbers.
After the fire alarm went off and everyone ran out of there, Lame, whom no one noticed, unplugged the distractionucer and took one of those grape bank lollipops where the stick is a ropey loop. He wasn’t able to make his deposit this day, but he thought it was amazing that he had such a neat, little machine. Lame then had the idea that he could even distract those at the party from finding him too scatter-brained and distracted, which they all thought he was. Lame would bring the distractionucer to the party.
The backyard barbecue party was held in the backyard of the richest, most popular, jag-off acquaintance of Lame’s, George Báëveraeter. George had spared no expense at making it a grandiose occasion, when most of the attendees would have settled for just some dogs n’ brews. George had payed for a whole carnival, a museum about old trains, a parade of fire-spitters, and Dick Van Dyke to come for this Facebook event. Even though the fare had been grand and everyone was having a lovely time, George wanted to turn things even more up, and, unfortunately that to him was harassing the newly-arrived Lame.
“STOP EVERYTHING!” George commanded, “Look who’s shown up, it’s lame, frenetic LAMEY, everyone!”
“HAHAHA” laughed the attendees numbering in 20. The other performers and hired people didn’t laugh, especially Dick Van Dyke.
Lame felt horrible as George continued to lead everyone to laugh and mock him. He felt his heart race, his vision tunnel, his ears ring, and his nose smell the delicious 100% black angus sizzling on the grill. Lame thought he might pass out when he noticed a bright orange extension chord that was meant for a blower to blow up an EDM-themed moon-jump. Without thinking he unplugged the moon jump, and powered up the distractionucer. This time Lame meant business. This time he had something to prove. This time he jiggled the toggle switch labeled “HI.”
The sky darkened with cumulonimbus. The earth shook and cracked. Lightning, thunder, ash and “HI” winds blew around all the attendees of George Báëveraeter’s backyard barbecue party. Then out of the shudder emerged a Godzilla-sized news anchorwoman known as Barbara Boldworn. Her flaxen blonde shimmer sent heat waves out to the ants on the ground who were the guy who ran the ferris wheel, a trained monkey and a lonely fried dough vendor, all vaporized in seconds in the rays. Immediately she started uttering a roar of news titles that were not really newsworthy and seemed to distract everyone from more pressing issues like, “Area Man Makes Jokes That Show Little Intelligence and Individuality”, “Can Dogs Be Trained to Make Hot Dogs?” and “Belinda Boutier Blimps 200lbs!” It was then that Dick Van Dyke drew up his sword and cut off his tuxedo, revealing a he-man body bound with muscle.
The unfortunate thing though that a little birdie caught Dick Van Dyke’s eye while he was doing so and he accidentally sliced his own head off. “Bye Bye Birdie!” said the dismembered head of Dick Van Dyke as it rolled into the gully. Now everyone started running in a real panic, but not from the ever-impending monstrous giant of barbarous Barbara Boldworn, but to see how they could frankenstein beloved Dick Van Dyke’s head back on. No one knew what to do about anything, except for Lame who had a plan.
“Oh! The humanity!” shrieked the old train museum curator.
“Oh! What face I will have to lose! And Dick Van Dyke’s HEAD!” shrieked George Báëveraeter.
“Oh! This bad!” said bill, a guy who was just hangin’ bout.
Everyone in a 50 mile radius stopped and just stared quietly at Lame, regardless if they could actually see him or not. The first thing Lame did was gather up Dick Van Dyke’s dismembered head and he wiped all the mulch and frog juice off it. Then Lame scraped a generous dosage of the jello alloy off the Distractionucer and spread it on Dick’s neck hole and on his body’s severed neck hole, which to everyone’s surprise remained upright and standing without its head. When Lame put the head back on the jello alloy fused and dick Van Dyke was alive again even though he had lost tons of blood. It is said that Dick Van Dyke is now immortal because of this, just as he remains immortal in our hearts with his being in almost every type of performing arts and media over the last seven decades.
The second thing Lame did was unplug the distractionucer. He had noticed that machine hadn’t quite finished forming the giant newswoman Barbara Boldworn, since she was such a tall order, and Lame speculated that loosing its power might end her impending danger. What it actually did was return her to normal size. “Now this sound like the story of 2069!” she exclaimed and she got on her cell to her camera crew. Everyone was saved by Lame’s quick, logical, distraction-free thinking.
“You saved all our asses..” said George Báëveraeter and everyone who only an hour ago had mocked Lame for the exact opposite behavior.
“I know.. I know..” said Lame getting a big head.
“Hey! But you also started all of this, you silly boy!” yelled an outraged Dick Van Dyke through a new neck hole, and he led the charge of everyone who chased Lame all the way home.
P.S. if you liked this check out B.S. Shithouse’s friend Passenger Infiniti here!