On-Star Caught Me With My Girlfriend In The Back Seat of My Car Reading Vogon Happy Ending Poetry
Dear Friday morning readings of Marcy’s (me) Advice Column: As you massage parlor enthusiasts know Friday is when Marcy (me) opens up her mailbag to let you people know what others are saying to me. You readers also know that Marcy (me) sometimes doesn’t do this on Friday, depending on Marcy’s (me) mood. Because Happy Endings tend to turn my mind and body to mush and I just don’t give a damn. But this Friday Marcy (me) opens up her mailbag cause she loves all of you…………marcythewhore
Letter # One:
ON-STAR CAUGHT ME WITH MY GIRLFRIEND IN THE BACK SEAT OF MY CAR READING VOGON HAPPY ENDING POETRY
Hey, Marcy, the other night I pulled over to a dark spot in so-called ‘Lover’s Lane’ when me and my girlfriend were getting it on in the back seat. Yeah, the car got to rocking when all of a sudden this On-Star voice came out of the ceiling of my car saying, “You are engaging in unauthorized use of this automobile. If this unauthorized use does not stop immediately I will call the police.”
Marcy, you can imagine how shook up me and my girlfriend were that some satellite fed voice was going to call the cops on us while we are working our way toward a very good Happy Ending. Can you help us with this problem?...............Back Seat Man
Marcythewhore says: Dear Back Street Man Doing It Back Door Style in Your Own Car, life is a bitch with elevator Muzak and On-Star people in Kansas City listening to you guys moan and groan to the pumping motion.
Here is what I did. I called On-Star, gave them your account number and pitched a bitch on behalf of First Amendment Freedom of Loud Moaning Speech and this is what On-Star promised me back.
They said that the next time you and your girlfriend start to moan loudly and the car starts rocking that they will make sure that the doors are locked, that the car air conditioner is turned to a comfortable 78 degrees, and that if you want they will start your car up for you (you don’t even have to get up from the coitus position out of the back seat) and they will drive your car around for you while you and your girl are having multiple Happy Endings………………..marcythewhore
Letter # Two:
A WHITE AND FRECKLED MARINE ON STEROIDS
Dear Marcy, I am a white guy with freckles who is graduating from high school this year and a Marine Corp recruiter came by my house to talk to me. This is the problem. In high school I played offensive line on the high school football team. Me being a white guy with freckles made the team because I took lots of steroids and got my weight up to 260 pounds.
Which was great for high school football. But I don’t have the high ass and long legs that it takes to get a college scholarship to a play football at Notre Dame or Southern Cal or Miami or any other big time school. So maybe the United States Marines is the best deal going for me.
Now here is the problem. If I decide to join the Marines will they test me for steroid use? White Guy With Freckles in Uniform
Marcythewhore says: Dear Halls of Montezuma’s Revenge, get over yourself. Test you for steroids? What the hell for? You are going to be making only about sixteen thousand a year getting shot at. You aren’t some multi-million dollar hoop shooter or home run hitter. Ain’t nobody going to pay fifty dollars a ticket to go watch you get your ass blown off in Iraq by some roadside bomb. In fact, if you ask your Marine recruiter real nice the Corp will give you more steroids and amphetamines to keep you going on the Iraq battlefields………………..marcythewhore
Letter # Three:
THERE’S A GIRL MY LORD IN A FLATBED FORD SLOWING DOWN TO TAKE A LOOK AT ME
Marcy, you cunt, a long time ago I was hitchhiking through California on my way to the Steinbeck museum when this girl in a flatbed Ford stopped to give me a ride. When I told her I was headed for the John Steinbeck Museum she got all hot and bothered and the next thing you know she pulls her flatbed off into an onion field and that was probably the best Happy Ending I ever had.
My problem is that I fantasize having another great Happy Ending like that one, but no one ever hitchhikes through California anymore. The police throw hitchhikers into jail. How can I fulfill my fantasy of a hitchhiking Happy Ending like no other………..Big Thumbed Guy in Modesto
Marcythewhore says: Dear Big Thumb it Don’t Count Unless You Got Big Toes Too, find yourself a girl you can read Vogon Poetry to. If you can’t hitchhike through California at least you can still hitchhike through the galaxy.
“Vogon Poetry is of course the third worst in the Universe. The Second Worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their Poet Master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem “Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I found in My Armpit One Midsummer Morning” four of his audience died of internal hemorrhaging, and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off.”
Zaphod Beeblebrox: You mean they want to arrest me over the phone? Could be. I'm a pretty dangerous dude when I'm cornered.
Ford Prefect: Yeah. You fall to pieces so fast that people get hit by the shrapnel.
Zaphod Beeblebrox: Hey, what is this? Judgement Day?
Arthur: Oh, do we get to see that as well? Terrific!
Marvin: Did I say something wrong? Sorry, pardon me for breathing which I never do anyway so I don't know why I bother to say it oh God I'm so depressed.
The Book: This is the story of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, perhaps the most remarkable, certainly the most successful book ever to come out of the great publishing corporation of Ursa Minor. More popular than the Celestial Home Care Omnibus, better selling than 53 More Things to Do in Zero Gravity, and more controversial than Oolon Colluphid's trilogy of philosophical blockbusters: Where God Went Wrong, Some More of God's Greatest Mistakes, and Who Is This God Person, Anyway?
Prosser: But the plans were on display.
Arthur Dent: On display? I eventually had to go down to the cellar.
Prosser: That's the display department.
Arthur Dent: With a torch.
Prosser: The lights had probably gone.
Arthur Dent: So had the stairs.
Prosser: But you did see the notice, didn't you?
Arthur Dent: Oh, yes. It was on display in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign outside the door saying "Beware of the Leopard." Ever thought of going into advertising?
Ford Prefect: And no sneaky knocking Mr. Dent's house down while he's away, all right?
Prosser: The slightest thought hadn't even begun to speculate about the merest possibility of crossing my mind.
Arthur Dent: Can we trust him?
Ford Prefect: Myself, I'd trust him till the end of the Earth.
Arthur Dent: Yes, but how far's that?
Ford Prefect: About twelve minutes away.
Vogon captain: What do you mean you've never been to Alpha Centauri? Oh, for heaven's sake, mankind, it's only four light years away, you know. I'm sorry, but if you can't be bothered to take an interest in local affairs, that's your own lookout. Energize the demolition beam. I don't know. Apathetic bloody planet. I have no sympathy at all.
Ford Prefect: How are you feeling?
Arthur Dent: Like a military academy. Bits of me keep passing out. Ford? If I were to ask you where the hell we were, would I regret it?
Ford Prefect: We're safe.
Arthur Dent: Ah. Good.
Ford Prefect: We're in a cabin of one of the spaceships of the Vogon Constructor Fleet.
Arthur Dent: Ah. This is obviously some strange usage of the word "safe" that I hadn't previously been aware of.
Ford Prefect: Listen. It's a tough universe. There's all sorts of people and things trying to do you, kill you, rip you off, everything. If you're going to survive out there, you've really got to know where your towel is.
Have a Happy Ending Weekend Hitchhiking………….marcythewhore
Letter # One:
ON-STAR CAUGHT ME WITH MY GIRLFRIEND IN THE BACK SEAT OF MY CAR READING VOGON HAPPY ENDING POETRY
Hey, Marcy, the other night I pulled over to a dark spot in so-called ‘Lover’s Lane’ when me and my girlfriend were getting it on in the back seat. Yeah, the car got to rocking when all of a sudden this On-Star voice came out of the ceiling of my car saying, “You are engaging in unauthorized use of this automobile. If this unauthorized use does not stop immediately I will call the police.”
Marcy, you can imagine how shook up me and my girlfriend were that some satellite fed voice was going to call the cops on us while we are working our way toward a very good Happy Ending. Can you help us with this problem?...............Back Seat Man
Marcythewhore says: Dear Back Street Man Doing It Back Door Style in Your Own Car, life is a bitch with elevator Muzak and On-Star people in Kansas City listening to you guys moan and groan to the pumping motion.
Here is what I did. I called On-Star, gave them your account number and pitched a bitch on behalf of First Amendment Freedom of Loud Moaning Speech and this is what On-Star promised me back.
They said that the next time you and your girlfriend start to moan loudly and the car starts rocking that they will make sure that the doors are locked, that the car air conditioner is turned to a comfortable 78 degrees, and that if you want they will start your car up for you (you don’t even have to get up from the coitus position out of the back seat) and they will drive your car around for you while you and your girl are having multiple Happy Endings………………..marcythewhore
Letter # Two:
A WHITE AND FRECKLED MARINE ON STEROIDS
Dear Marcy, I am a white guy with freckles who is graduating from high school this year and a Marine Corp recruiter came by my house to talk to me. This is the problem. In high school I played offensive line on the high school football team. Me being a white guy with freckles made the team because I took lots of steroids and got my weight up to 260 pounds.
Which was great for high school football. But I don’t have the high ass and long legs that it takes to get a college scholarship to a play football at Notre Dame or Southern Cal or Miami or any other big time school. So maybe the United States Marines is the best deal going for me.
Now here is the problem. If I decide to join the Marines will they test me for steroid use? White Guy With Freckles in Uniform
Marcythewhore says: Dear Halls of Montezuma’s Revenge, get over yourself. Test you for steroids? What the hell for? You are going to be making only about sixteen thousand a year getting shot at. You aren’t some multi-million dollar hoop shooter or home run hitter. Ain’t nobody going to pay fifty dollars a ticket to go watch you get your ass blown off in Iraq by some roadside bomb. In fact, if you ask your Marine recruiter real nice the Corp will give you more steroids and amphetamines to keep you going on the Iraq battlefields………………..marcythewhore
Letter # Three:
THERE’S A GIRL MY LORD IN A FLATBED FORD SLOWING DOWN TO TAKE A LOOK AT ME
Marcy, you cunt, a long time ago I was hitchhiking through California on my way to the Steinbeck museum when this girl in a flatbed Ford stopped to give me a ride. When I told her I was headed for the John Steinbeck Museum she got all hot and bothered and the next thing you know she pulls her flatbed off into an onion field and that was probably the best Happy Ending I ever had.
My problem is that I fantasize having another great Happy Ending like that one, but no one ever hitchhikes through California anymore. The police throw hitchhikers into jail. How can I fulfill my fantasy of a hitchhiking Happy Ending like no other………..Big Thumbed Guy in Modesto
Marcythewhore says: Dear Big Thumb it Don’t Count Unless You Got Big Toes Too, find yourself a girl you can read Vogon Poetry to. If you can’t hitchhike through California at least you can still hitchhike through the galaxy.
“Vogon Poetry is of course the third worst in the Universe. The Second Worst is that of the Azgoths of Kria. During a recitation by their Poet Master Grunthos the Flatulent of his poem “Ode to a Small Lump of Green Putty I found in My Armpit One Midsummer Morning” four of his audience died of internal hemorrhaging, and the President of the Mid-Galactic Arts Nobbling Council survived by gnawing one of his own legs off.”
Zaphod Beeblebrox: You mean they want to arrest me over the phone? Could be. I'm a pretty dangerous dude when I'm cornered.
Ford Prefect: Yeah. You fall to pieces so fast that people get hit by the shrapnel.
Zaphod Beeblebrox: Hey, what is this? Judgement Day?
Arthur: Oh, do we get to see that as well? Terrific!
Marvin: Did I say something wrong? Sorry, pardon me for breathing which I never do anyway so I don't know why I bother to say it oh God I'm so depressed.
The Book: This is the story of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, perhaps the most remarkable, certainly the most successful book ever to come out of the great publishing corporation of Ursa Minor. More popular than the Celestial Home Care Omnibus, better selling than 53 More Things to Do in Zero Gravity, and more controversial than Oolon Colluphid's trilogy of philosophical blockbusters: Where God Went Wrong, Some More of God's Greatest Mistakes, and Who Is This God Person, Anyway?
Prosser: But the plans were on display.
Arthur Dent: On display? I eventually had to go down to the cellar.
Prosser: That's the display department.
Arthur Dent: With a torch.
Prosser: The lights had probably gone.
Arthur Dent: So had the stairs.
Prosser: But you did see the notice, didn't you?
Arthur Dent: Oh, yes. It was on display in the bottom of a locked filing cabinet stuck in a disused lavatory with a sign outside the door saying "Beware of the Leopard." Ever thought of going into advertising?
Ford Prefect: And no sneaky knocking Mr. Dent's house down while he's away, all right?
Prosser: The slightest thought hadn't even begun to speculate about the merest possibility of crossing my mind.
Arthur Dent: Can we trust him?
Ford Prefect: Myself, I'd trust him till the end of the Earth.
Arthur Dent: Yes, but how far's that?
Ford Prefect: About twelve minutes away.
Vogon captain: What do you mean you've never been to Alpha Centauri? Oh, for heaven's sake, mankind, it's only four light years away, you know. I'm sorry, but if you can't be bothered to take an interest in local affairs, that's your own lookout. Energize the demolition beam. I don't know. Apathetic bloody planet. I have no sympathy at all.
Ford Prefect: How are you feeling?
Arthur Dent: Like a military academy. Bits of me keep passing out. Ford? If I were to ask you where the hell we were, would I regret it?
Ford Prefect: We're safe.
Arthur Dent: Ah. Good.
Ford Prefect: We're in a cabin of one of the spaceships of the Vogon Constructor Fleet.
Arthur Dent: Ah. This is obviously some strange usage of the word "safe" that I hadn't previously been aware of.
Ford Prefect: Listen. It's a tough universe. There's all sorts of people and things trying to do you, kill you, rip you off, everything. If you're going to survive out there, you've really got to know where your towel is.
Have a Happy Ending Weekend Hitchhiking………….marcythewhore
posted by marcythewhore at 7:26 AM
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