Every spring our Neighborhood Leader (whoever the hell that is) looks at the weather forecast, picks out a weekend when the temperature won't rise above 40 degrees, the winds will howl and precipitation will most surely fall, and schedules a Neighborhood Garbage Sale. I have participated in this sale exactly one time -- approximately seven years ago -- and am still recovering. I will never forget the annoyance I felt at the people showing up approximately eight hours before the published start time, shouting "Would it be okay if we just poked around in there and had a look around?" from their car windows and angrily driving away when my answer was "FUCK NO!" The worst, though, was when the sale officially started and I had to helplessly stand in my garage while hoards of people stumbled toward me like zombies, hell bent on messing up my perfectly folded piles of clothes in search of a great deal on a pair of khaki shorts sized for a 6-9 month old. And the answer is no, I will not knock $0.50 off those shorts within the first ten minutes of my sale.
Over the last few weeks, I have been doing my a-little-more-frequently-than-quarterly purge of closets, drawers, storage bins, cabinets and anything else that contains things that we own. After a trip or two to the recycling center, strategic use of the space in my garbage can and more than a few passes through the Goodwill drop off lane, I can sleep at night. So even if I was going through a moment of insanity and actually wanted to participate in this year's Garbage Sale, I wouldn't have anything to sell anyway. Or, would I?
Recently, while having some new wiring installed in our house, I discovered a few bins of some toys that the kids refuse to part with, but aren't played with very often: marble runs, a train set, and a giant fucking plastic ship that is home to some really hideous plastic super heroes. Would it be weird of me to open my garage door, place three bins of toys and one plastic ship in my driveway and then close up shop as soon as the shit sold?
And then I remembered something: I can't sell the plastic ship because Doug and Zoe have a history with it. They have spent hours playing together, coming up with story lines involving its assorted cast of characters, the names of which I wasn't familiar with until I read this don't-read-if-you-have-anything-in-your-mouth-cuz-it-will-shoot-out-your-nose story, written by Doug, aka Married to The Mean Mom.
Zoe, Angry Goddess of Death
The great thing about playing with Zoe is that she is easy going and doesn't try to boss me around. Okay, she does have opinions, but that's just because she likes things to be done a certain way. And while, yes, the way in which she likes things to be done can best be described as Zoe's Way or Fuck you, she's really quite reasonable about it -- she merely demands that everything unfold according to a detailed script she's written in her head, otherwise feet will be stomped, teeth will be gnashed, hands will be placed on hips and eyes will be glared. Also, there will be shouting. Nothing too extreme, really, but you can expect your ears to bleed a bit. Again, she's not bossy so much as she's just a fan of, say, Mussolini. Or Sauron.
Like most kids her age she can also be quite imaginative. Imaginative in the sense that any adult playing with her will not have the slightest freaking clue what in the holy hell is going on. I have a bit of an advantage here in that, as Jody will attest, I am not an adult. So when Giraffey and Baby Mazagordon are having tea and their brains start shooting out of their butts because they ate too much throwup lasterday, I can see the logic in that and appreciate the narrative structure she is building.
The problem is, Zoe and I don't always agree on character development or crucial plot points. For example, why would Giraffey run over Baby Mazagordon repeatedly with a dump truck and then feed what's left of her to the sharks? It seemed out of character to me, given Giraffey's history of placid grass eating and song singing. Ever since that incident I've had a difficult time playing the giraffe because I don't understand her motivation. I realize that Zoe's trying to make Giraffey more three-dimensional by giving her contradictory personality traits, but I guess serial-killing herbivore just doesn't work for me.
This was a minor incident, however, when compared to the Super Mission Guys debacle, which is alternatively referred to as "That Time of Which We Do Not Speak."
Zoe and I have had creative differences before but nothing that couldn't be resolved with a little screaming and throwing of things, followed by Jody reminding me that I was supposed to be the more mature one here. But this time was different. This wasn't a simple case of using the wrong inflection or going all Charlton Heston on my role. This was me going so far off script that Zoe began to seriously consider replacing me with the understudy -- mom. The same mom who doesn't understand how King Bruno the dinosaur can give birth to porcupines and forgets that Pepperina the polar bear speaks with a Jamaican accent, mon.
Perhaps it happened because we'd invested so much time and energy into developing the complex characters and rich mythology that make up the Super Mission Guys. They are an elite fighting force led by a gorilla named Hoo Hoo Jungle. Hoo Hoo is unique among his kind in that he has a retractable grappling hook and a backpack -- just the sort of things one needs to repeatedly save the world -- or small, helpless dogs, depending on the mission -- from certain destruction. Hoo Hoo's second in command is the taciturn yet loquacious HAMMER DUDE! His name must always be spoken just as I have typed it -- with all caps and an exclamation point. As it turns out, HAMMER DUDE! was aptly named by his parents because he now wields a gigantic hammer. I suspect that his choice of weaponry and his insistence on shouting his name is because he is compensating for something, but I've never been able to work this into the script.
There are many other members of The Super Mission Guys but its exact makeup varies from day to day depending on who has been called away on international espionage assignments and who is lost in a closet or under a couch somewhere.
I play the part of HAMMER DUDE! Zoe plays the part of everyone else. What follows is a transcript of the final episode of the Super Mission Guys, exactly as performed.
Super Mission Guys
Episode #278
EXT. SUPER MISSION SHIP - DAY
THE SUPER MISSION GUYS HAVE GATHERED ABOARD THE DECK OF THE SUPER MISSION SHIP, AWAITING ORDERS FROM THEIR MYSTERIOUS BENEFACTOR, THE RICH AND POWERFUL BOX DAY.
HOO HOO JUNGLE
Shut up, everyone! Box Day will be calling soon! Does everyone have their new shoes on?
EVERYONE
Yes sir!Splashy the Dolphin leaps out of the water and accidentally knocks Hoo Hoo Jungle into the ocean. Hoo Hoo drowns.
HAMMER DUDE!
Oh no! Hoo Hoo is dead!
EVERYONE
Oh no! Aaaaagh! Crap! etc.
HAMMER DUDE!
This is a job for HAMMER D--
SPRAY MAN
No! No, it isn't! Don't say that!
HAMMER DUDE!
But I want to be the one to save--
SPRAY MAN
Stop it! Stop talking! Spray Man fixes dead people, not HAMMER DUDE!Spray man sprays his spraying device into Hoo Hoo Jungle's face. Hoo Hoo stirs. He is alive!
HOO HOO JUNGLE
(coughing) Splashy! Stop killing me! Bad dolphin!
EVERYONE
Bad Splashy! No! Stop it! etc.
SPLASHY
(whimpers)Amidst the commotion, a mustachioed man appears on the Mission TV Screen. This is BOX DAY.
BOX DAY
Attention, people! Stop being like this! You have to pay attention when you get the missions!
HAMMER DUDE!
Yes! Quiet down every--
BOX DAY
Stop talking, I said! Guy with the hammer - what is your name?
HAMMER DUDE!
Uh, Hammer Dude?
BOX DAY
No it isn't! It's HAMMER DUDE!!!!! You are the worst Super Mission Guy ever!
HAMMER DUDE!
But sir, I--Box Day covers his ears.
BOX DAY
Lah lah lah lah lah! I'm not listening! Lah lah lah lah lah! I can't hear you!
HAMMER DUDE!
...I...
BOX DAY
Here is your mission: Stop the spaceship that is attacking the world! But watch out for its bombs that will kill you for a week and the eggs it shoots that will make you all messy!HAMMER DUDE! looks off across the Pacific toward the last rays of a setting sun, a melancholia settling over him like--
BOX DAY
HAMMER DUDE! You are wearing the wrong shoes!
HAMMER DUDE!
I...wha?
HOO HOO JUNGLE
I told him, sir! He is a horrible Mission Guy!
BOX DAY
Oh, and one more thing: After your mission you get to go to the ice cream shop.
EVERYONE
Yes! Yay! Awesome! etc.
BOX DAY
Except for HAMMER DUDE! because he is doing it wrong! Good luck, everyone. Make sure you be alive.HAMMER DUDE! marches to the front of the group and strikes his giant hammer on the deck of the ship.
HAMMER DUDE!
Stop telling me what to say, Zoe!
HOO HOO JUNGLE
Zoe? Who's Zoe? My name is Hoo Hoo Jungle!
GREEK CHORUS
Oh look, the spaceship has shot its bombs at HAMMER DUDE!
HAMMER DUDE!
No, wait! Um...HAMMER DUDE! hammers the bombs back at the--
GREEK CHORUS
No he doesn't! They explode in his mouth! He can't talk ever again!
HAMMER DUDE!
No, they missed me! Now I will talk even more!
HOO HOO JUNGLE
HAMMER DUDE! has turned evil! Everyone kill him!The entire Super Mission Guys team attacks HAMMER DUDE! and some Star Wars characters join in. As does a wooden train, some Lincoln Logs, a Simon Says and an empty juice box.
And then a mysterious giant hand appears and throws HAMMER DUDE! across the ocean.
HOO HOO JUNGLE
HAMMER DUDE! is dead forever! He can never come back and he can't talk anymore!HAMMER DUDE! comes running back across the ocean.
HAMMER DUDE!
Hi guys, I'm back! I feel fine! And Box Day put me in charge of the Super Mission Guys!There is a horrible screaming sound so terrible that it rips a hole in the fabric of reality. Through the hole steps ZOE, an angry, vengeful goddess. She kills everyone.
THE END
For the next few days Zoe and I played Uno. Uno has a very clearly defined set of rules. There is no room for debate or interpretation. I made sure to follow every one of them, especially the last one which is written in crayon on the rule sheet. It states: "Always let Zoe win."
