It was October 10th, 1983 when last I had one of those days when everything clicked. It technically stared a day earlier, but only because I went to sleep 18 hours before, and sleep is one of my favorite things. Usually I get 7, I need 8 and I lust after 10; so as is obvious, I was in heaven for an extra 8 hours of choking and gasping in my apnea burdened, emphysemic way. And then, upon the opening of my eyes, my lovely wife du jour Marie performed oral sex, on me of course, as we had only been married for a few months and it would be months yet before she’d found greener grass.
Suddenly I heard the clanking of dishes coming from my kitchen. It was hard to imagine my dog Nikky whipping up breakfast, so I asked “who might that be? Surely not your mother who hates me above all others?”
“Why no” my beautiful companion answered; “It’s Martha Stewart! She’s thinking of starting a television show and thought she could get some practice cooking for the plain folk.”
“How would you like your eggs Ronnie?” I was stunned naturally. Here she was in my own house, as cute as she looked on TV, asking me how I’d like my meal prepared! I could almost forgive her for using the name Ronnie. So once explaining to her that I would slap her silly should she make that mistake again, I said “basted soft please!”
Well, as she sauntered back to the pots and pans in her Martha way, I jumped up to run to the bathroom so I could soak my head in the sink and make my hair lay down rather than stick straight up like a clown’s. (I didn’t want Ms. Stewart using my morning hairdo as a favorite humorous anecdote once she’d started her reign on daytime television.)
The moment I stepped into the space I was stunned by the changes that had taken place while I was asleep. Where once there had been a simple tub and window, there was now a Jacuzzi and bay; and over the newly replaced marble sink, with gold handles and drain, was a compact shower head, perfectly suited to addressing Bozo hair!
“Wha” I said as I turned towered the ever perfect Ms. Wife-o-mine.
“Oh I forgot” she informed me; “Bob Villa was here last night while you were sleeping. He’s thinking of leaving This Old House and starting his own show, so he thought he could practice his impossible renovation technique here!”
“Bu” I tried to inject a question yet she sensed my query and answered it before I could finish the syllable.
“It was all free” she rambled; “once he found out Martha Stewart would be here to cook him dinner.”
Well, I couldn’t believe my luck; but I really had to pee. So I shooshed my wife from the room, took care of business (leaving the toilet seat up as I had a perfect right to) and then rinsed my head in the wonderful miniature shower. It was amazingly warm and soothing; the jets were just strong enough to massage my cranium and the ever so slight cigarette smoke headache that loomed was washed away along with my cartoon character appearance. In fact, when I finally finished and combed my hair into its regular style, I could swear I had actually grown a few follicles in my sleep! Good Lord what a day!
Breakfast was grand! Just like Gramma B used to make me when I’d mow her lawn and trim her shrubberies. Martha’s a hell of a cook if you ask me; it’s no wonder people give her inside trading information!
Still reeling from the outrageousness of my morning so far, I was loath to pick up the phone when it rang. But dutiful husband that I am, it was my responsibility to tell off telemarketers, so I answered. Of all people, it was my boss on the phone!
“You don’t have to come to work today Ronnie, and we’re paying you double anyway because we like you so much!”
Holy Crap I thought! Paid to screw off? Overtime hours? I thanked him profusely, after of course I’d warned him of the corporal punishment he might suffer for using my toddler name. I only wondered, what would I do with the day?
Just as I was pondering my freedom, my then partially committed mate hauled me off into the bedroom for another round of you know what. I had barely had time to catch my breath when the doorbell rang.
It was a local car dealer. He explained to me that my father had so admired my work ethic, my incredible responsibility and my having turned out such a near perfect man that he’d bought me a new Corvette! Wow! You can’t imagine what I was thinking! My dad liked me! Who would have thought!
I figured I might as well go for a ride so the woman to whom I was once legally obligated and I jumped in the Vette, and after dropping Martha off at the airport we went for a little cruise in the countryside.
There was a frightful moment when a deer jumped from the ditch and ran right in front of us, but suddenly an otherworldy gust of straight line wind shot out from the western side of the road and lifted the deer right up and over the top of the car! I’d never seen anything like it, and if I had to guess, I never will again!
Shortly afterward we rounded a corner and there was a purple limo on the side of the highway with a jack under the right rear wheel. I stopped as I always do for those in need, and to my surprise this little black guy gets out of the back seat and smiles. It was Prince! Well of course we’d met before since he’d worked for me when he was a teenager and not really Prince yet, so he says “Hey Ronnie! How’s it goin?”
Well, after I’d reminded him about the Ronnie thing and he’d apologized, I helped his driver fix the flat tire while Prince and Apollonia sang their greatest hits a capella. Once I was finished he was so grateful he gave me all the master tapes of his latest recordings and said “Ya know, I don’t really need these songs so why don’t you have them? Store them in you garage or something and listen to them when you’re old and lonely and in need of a lot of cash.” Naturally I said “Hey thanks Prince!” And we parted company.
An hour later we were just driving along when suddenly I noticed we were being followed. I pulled over and waited for them to pass, but they pulled in right behind me and one of the guys jumps out and runs up to the Vette and says “Hey! I saw you guys go by us and thought what an almost perfect couple! I’m a talent scout and the company I work for is doing a demo of a new TV show. How’d you like to be in it?”
I could hardly refuse after he’d been so nice and all, so we followed him to a local studio where they’d made an uplink to the master suite in New York, and who do you think comes on the monitor? Regis Philbin! That’s right! He was the MC for a show called “Who wants to be a Millionaire” and I was gonna be the first experimental contestant!
I said “You bet let’s go!” just after he’d said “OK Ronnie, you ready?”, mostly because while I’d loved to have whacked him upside the head he was in New York, and since I was on TV, even though it was just a pilot that would probably never be shown, I didn’t want to look stupidly vindictive; so I let him Ronnie me for the half hour.
Wow! What a half hour it was! It was touch and go for a while, but luckily I knew a few people to call, so when the question about India came up I called Indira Ghandi’s daughter, who I’d met at a revival of the play Hair. And when the question about money came up I called Paul Hewson, this Irish guy I’d met in a pub in Paducah Kentucky who told me one day he was going to own half of Dublin. And it was amazing but I happened to have known the answer to the last question… “Who will one day in the future be a symbol for terrorist organizations, that will bring thousands of children into their theological construct?” Well once I’d deciphered the really badly worded question I knew there could only be one answer.
“MICKEY MOUSE” I screamed! And the ceiling opened up and all these 20 dollar bills came floating down like confetti and I was told if I’d want to pick them all up they’d all be mine! But then I noticed Bill Gates standing there looking bored, and I figured he was great at collecting money, so I made a deal with him that he could keep 10 percent of the cash for his garage fund if he’d pick up the dough and bring it to me later. AND HE AGREED!
I couldn’t take it; I was so tired I just had to get home and take a nap for 20 hours or so. The woman who was once my true love drove as I waved at people on the street and they waved back as if they knew who I was and cared deeply about me. At last we arrived at my address, but lo and behold there was a brand spanking new house on my lot!
Well standing in my new driveway was this weird lookin hippy type guy who called himself Ty Pennington, and he said he had this new tv show he was trying out called “Extreme Makeover” and he happened to be driving through my neighborhood and saw my house! He thought it’d be a perfect home to practice on so him and his buddies tore mine down and built one three times as big on the same property!
I did all my thank you’s, though I did demand that he change the mailbox inscription to say Ron J instead of Ronnie, but as indebted as I felt I was just exhausted, so I excused myself and the lady who once pretended to love me and I went inside. There, she gave me you know what again, and I went to sleep, or at least to snoring and wheezing and coughing like I always do.
And that was the day that everything clicked! MAN I love it when that happens!