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Sunday, November 8, 2009

To Continue - the Shift

When I was young and my heart was an open book, I used to say live and let live. And occasionally I would write something.

There is a crusty residue in the crockpot that is surely of my own making. I have left this in the sink without soaking. A mess.

I would say that, lately, shiftless would be an apt descriptor for me. But tonight at least, I will be using the shift key. Words will be capitalized. The story, long-neglected, will be continued – as promised in the June 25th crockpot installment.

To truly get to the heart of the matter, we must visit the 25th installment of the crockpot, and then the 46th, where Prince leveled a challenge to Paul McCartney and Michael Jackson by means of sequins, purple, Easter eggs, and a hologram.

It is Easter Eve in the mansion of Sir Paul McCartney. Paul has just returned from a covert Cadbury mission to buy MJ surprise Easter candy to find Michael at the kitchen table, holding the more covert work of Prince in his hands. The hologram inside the Easter eggs in question has revealed that the next day, Easter, will be the day when Prince, per the specifications of his Jeopardy! victory against Sir Paul, will challenge Paul to a game of his choosing. Paul takes the news fairly well, coping by means of bacon. For his part, Michael is excited, as a visit from Prince may mean he will get to spend time with Bruce, the surgeon keyboardist from Prince’s Revolution. Paul, having finished his lentils with bacon unsatisfied, has just asked his chef for a BLT. Michael, who is dyeing several free-range Easter eggs, asks to join in the meal.

MJ: Paul, can I have a BLT too?

Paul: Certainly, Michael. I love BLTs. Why wouldn’t you feel the same?

MJ: I want to love you – BLT – bacon lettuce thing! HEeeee heee!

Paul: You said it.

MJ: Paul, are you nervous about tomorrow? What do you think Prince is going to make you play? Lead guitar?

Paul: Hm. I’m a little nervous, yes, primarily because I have no idea what Prince has up his sleeve. There’s a lot of room in those ruffles. I just hope it’s not a contact sport. Prince is fast. And surprisingly strong for his size. I wouldn’t be surprised if “Raspberry Beret” was actually an ode to his drill sergeant. Ha ha!

MJ: You mean like your Sergeant Pepper song? Hey, is Sergeant Pepper related to Dr. Pepper? Do those two guys know each other?

Paul: (sighing) Of course, Michael. But Dr. Pepper is a woman! Don’t forget women can be doctors too.

MJ: Right! And egg donors! And Diana Rosses!

Paul: Right. Hey, lemme dunk one of those eggs. It is almost Easter after all.

MJ: You are the egg man!

Paul: (touched) Very good, Michael! Very good..

MJ: So what are you going to do to get ready for the game? Do you want to practice with a game of Battleship? Or Chutes and Ladders? Or Beatles Rock Band?

Paul: No, thanks. Heather and Yoko get all the money from that anyway. I think I’ll just live and let dye. Now eat your sandwich, Michael.

MJ: Ba-con! Sha’mon!

Paul and Michael contentedly eat their sandwiches, worry-free for the moment, as Easter promises new beginnings, miracles of the impossible for believers of all kinds, and, quite possibly, chocolate. The mansion hums quietly – a fire crackles, spoons clink gently against china as they turn eggs upside down in bowls of dye – the eggs turning submarine yellow, apple green, and Beat It t-shirt turquoise. Outside a breeze blows. Clouds from the west move too quickly to be explained by nature alone. Somewhere in the distance, a dove cries.

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