A.G.E's Joint

Van Winkle strolls off stage left. As he does, the strains of "The Barber of Seville" fill the room. The short, stout man creeps in to the room. Traces of white shaving cream drip off his balding brow on to his yellow hunting jacket. A leather razor hangs from his belt, speckled with red liquid matching the trapper hat. "Be vewy, vewy quiet. I'm hunting Mortals." With a quick turn he firers. Marty ducks as the indigo cloud hangs over his seat. Picking himself up, Marty shakes his hand. "Hi Sandy! You can relax. No Mortals here." "Owh, good. That wascal Bugs had me singing ' Summertime ' again. I hate that song. Livin' ain't easy. I'm gonna bwast him good one day." He puts down the gun. "Hewwwooh. My name is Sandy." He waves his hand across his face. The hunting clothes are replaced by a loose fitting green t-shirt with violet pajamas. The gun is now a White Russian and the cartoon voice

"Okay, everyone. Let's get settled again." Marty takes a sip from his cup. "I have to give you folks credit on your stamina through all this. Usually at this point, everyone is kvetching like an Israelite in the desert." A gleam comes across his eye. "Of course, I'm a Demon and my lips are sealed . And that gets us to the next presentation. A slightly disheveled man in a battered hat holding a jack o'lantern enters and stretches. "Yaaawwwnnn" He pulls out a melted clock , brushes the horse manure off it and looks intently at the dripping face . "Oh, crap. Am I late again? Marty gives him the stink eye. "Yes, Rip, you are." The old man makes an obscene gesture. "You said I had twenty years to rest and I took it." With a wave, a small dragon replaces the pumpkin. The old man tosses it toward the back of the room. There is a thud and scream. No one turns around to see the result. The smell is en

Dan and Marty come back from the restroom. The dagger gleams just below Marty's collar. He reaches back and pulls it out as Dan taps the microphone. "Ahem...O.K. everyone, Ides of March is over. Put down the yellow snocones and let's get down to business." A high definition digital billboard slinks in place behind him. The image of a broken disco ball scatters light around the room, while the entwined skeletons of Andrea True and Easy-E lip-sync a gangster rap version of "More! More! More!". Holographic visions of steel rings and costumed bracelets dance in the air. The audience begins to nod in time with the noise, while grasping at the invisible bling. Draper smiles at the reaction. Suddenly, he shuts everything off, bringing moans of complaint from the students. With a serious look on his face, he faces the audience. "Glad to see even in death, it works." A pause and a grin. "I evoked the Greed response in almost every one of you.&q

Before we continue our series, a word from our sponsor. In this, the beginning of our eleventh season of Blogophilia, I need to take a moment to introduce myself the newer readers. My internet name is Another Government Employee and I have been infesting the internet for roughly 15 years and have been a part of Blogophilia since the beginning of season 2. As the name implies, I was a bureaucratic drone for about 25 years when I caused an allergic reaction to the government organism. I was expelled and now spend my time consulting on benefits issues and exploring my imagination. The name itself originated on the old Neal Boortz radio program website, where I was an occasional contributor. There was already one guy called Government Employee, so I became another. You may find older posts with the tagline “6th house on the right, off 9-27, PDK Atlanta. Often my exchanges on the Boortz site involved aviation, and I really do live next to the airport and often post pictures from there

Marty Mammon enters the room and taps on the podium. The silence is immediate. "Hello again, everyone. I have a treat for you. Let me introduce you to your next instructor, Rachel Jezebel." A slender cheerleader bounds into the room. She is dressed in the traditional DQ red uniform of a red jacket and skirt over a white, wide collared blouse, which makes her look suspiciously like a flight attendant. The voice fills every crevice of the room. "Hello, everyone. My name is Rachel and I will be your guide to the wonderful world of... LUST!! " With a tug, the uniform comes off, leaving her in a Baywatch style one piece. All of her assets are outlined for all to see. The room is silent "What? No whistles? I must be slipping.” She smiles. “Oh, wait. The program is disabled. Demons can't care." With a wave, the stewardess suit reappears. Snake like, she scans the young trainees. "I use this demonstration for a couple of purposes. The ob