The Harland Highway - 683 - SAMUEL E. QUOKE summer romance letter. Strange boogers.

Episode Date: June 23, 2015

Samuel E. Quoke stops by to read one of his romantic summer letters. A man finds a suprise up his nose. And why are you wet in bed? Wet bed head!!! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Sweet Christmas Crumble Cake. Why am I talking about Christmas? It's the middle of summer. Because that's what we do here. Nothing makes any sense, and that's the way you like it. Isn't it, everybody? Isn't it? Isn't it?

Hey, it's Harlan Williams. Welcome to the Harlan Highway. Thank you for being here, everybody. Wild show today. We are going to be talking about something that, happens to all of us. It'll come up in the Harland Highway question of the day. Something that happens to us in our sleep. Maybe you have the answers. I don't know. I'm going to ask the question. Also, we have a really weird toy story in our crazy news segment. Some guy had a toy hidden in his body

for many years, and way to you hear this? Very odd. Also, with summer being here, we have our resident romantic writer, Samuel E. Quoutk, will be dropping by to read one of his romantic summer letters, which I always end up almost puking after I hear. Hopefully this time it actually is semi-romantic, because this guy, he's very questionable. So Samuel E. Quout, later in the show, put your helmet on. This is the Harland Highway. Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to introduce The Harland Highway I promise you, I will please you all, believe me What is he like?

What's he like anyway? Oh, he's an angel. He's an angel strength from nothing. You're going to need a bigger pose. You're listening to Harlan Williams. Why don't you give me a name and a face and a reason why? Oh man, what do you expect the guy to have chigolo, man? It's over, Jenny.

It's over. Nothing is over! You just don't turn it off. You just made a wrong turn. On to the Harland Highway. Weird. Just plain weird. You're not me.

I'm still alive. I'll tell you what I won't give you, you muckers. I won't give you the satisfaction of saying that I'm sorry. Welcome to the Harland Highway. Oh, you get your money's worth. Believe me. The Harland Highway. Crazy news story.

That's weird. Wow. That's strange stuff. I make you crazy. Okay. Let's do it. Let's start the show off with something. Just twist it.

Okay. Here's your headline for the crazy news story. Guy sneezes out toy, wedged in nose, for 44. years. Oh, my God. Achoo! How do you not know you have a toy up your nose? First of all, let alone, like, most of us have had a crusty old booger and you're like, I got to get that out of here. I can't breathe.

Achoo! This guy's got a toy up his nose for 44 years? Here's the story. You're not going to believe it when Steve Easton was about seven years old. His parents noticed that the suction cup was missing from one of his toy darts. And they were worried he had inhaled or swallowed it, so they took him to the hospital. But doctors couldn't find anything because, you know, it's so hard to find a suction cup up a child's nose. Yet for decades, he suffered from sniffles and headaches he thought were the result of allergies.

Yeah, guess what you're allergic to? Stephen, you're allergic to a rubber suction cup dart up your nose. Most of us are. Now, more than four decades later, it turns out, his childhood doctors were wrong. Oh, hello. Thanks for the oversight docs, you know, no problem. It only, look, hey, don't feel bad. It only made me feel like a living, walking pile of human,

crap for 44 years. It's a little oversight. Look, what's 44 years between friends? What's 44 years of chronic headaches and nasal congestion and suffering between a doctor and a patient? We can get past this, right? In what must have been a powerful sneeze, Accompanied by what he calls a, quote, a very uncomfortable sensation, the suction cup emerged from a 51-year-old Easton's nose, Steve Easton. Holy crap. And you got to figure if you sneeze and you got a suction cup up your nose, you know, sometimes you sneeze and crap flies out of your nose and it hits the floor, it hits your arm, or imagine this. Lugie coming out and stick into the wall. Achoo!

Imagine you're standing in front of this guy when he sneezes. And a suction cup snot meteorite sticks to your forehead. Oh, Stephen, what was that that just came out of your nose? Nothing, nothing. Are you sure wasn't a suction cup with a giant meteorite-sized? booger on the back of it? No, no, why would I have a suction cup up my nose for even 44 years?

Why would I have that? Stephen says, I started a sneezing fit, and it came out of my left nostril, the British man says. Oh, excuse me, I'm sorry. I've just sneezed a suction cup booger onto your forehead. Pardon me, let me get that off. Chip, chip, chirio, and all that nonsense. because the British are so plight. Stephen says, I thought, quote, what's this?

Where the hell is this come from? And pulled out this rubber sucker from his nose. Easton called his mom, who told him about the hospital visit, which he had apparently forgotten. Doctors at the time said perhaps she was mistaken about her son inhaling the suction cup. Gee, what a brilliant statement to make 44 years later. Do you think maybe she was right? What's your proof?

The giant suction cup that came out of his nose when he sneezed? Good Lord. I mean, this is crazy. Doctors at the time said perhaps she was mistaken about her son inhaling a suction cup, and she noted, quote, I knew it wasn't a mistake, and it always worried me. And now it has suddenly shot out. We are all shocked.

Oh, my goodness, Stephen. A suction cup dart has shot out of your nose. If only we had been hunting in the tropical rainforests of Brazil. I mean, you could have shot yourself a pygmy gopher or something. Your nose is like a human blow dart, old boy. Well, of course you're all shocked. Easton's current doctor doesn't think the dart caused any problems. Uh, hello.

It did, however, become a good conversation piece. Yeah. This is where it gets gross. Easton toaded it around for a while before he threw it away. Excuse me, ladies. Listen, are you here alone? Yes. Could I buy you a drink and tell you a little story?

I'd like to show you something. Oh, absolutely. Right then. Bartender, double screwdrivers for the ladies. And ladies, have a look at this giant suction cup booger that shot out of my left nostril. Ah! The hell?

The BBC reported, as for his nose, quote, it doesn't feel any different. I mean, that's just crazy so so there you go there's your you know if you have a hunch that something's up your nose or in your body get a second third fourth opinion i saw this um i saw this show on on tv i think it's it's on the discovery challenge called the monster within or the the creature within it's about people who have parasites living inside them like tapeworms and leeches and midgets and stuff like that.

And there was a story about a guy, a full-grown man, who one day was drinking a can of Coke and the little metal tab, that little metal tab he used to open the hole in the top of the can, it mysteriously disappeared and he was certain that he had inhaled it. and it was lodged in his throat. Now, mind you, this is a piece of metal or aluminum or whatever it's made out of. And so this guy goes to the doctor, and they say they can't find anything. They do x-rays, blah, blah, blah. But coincidentally, hello, ever since that supposed moment happened,

he was having severe trouble breathing, swallowing, eating, he was having headaches, He was feeling nauseous. He was having trouble breathing. He was becoming tired very frequently and had to miss work. And I guess he made one trip to the doctor, and they're like, no, we don't see any aluminum pop top in there. What the hell is he talking about? I mean, this is the type of stuff that goats do.

They eat tin cans. I mean, go home, man. Go to Golden Corral. Eat all you can. So one day this guy was so miserable. I mean it made his life so miserable He couldn't work He couldn't function

He was depressed And this thing was in his throat for years I watched this thing He sent his family away on vacation With a long kiss And a hug goodbye and a wink Because he kind of acknowledged To the wife

That while they were gone He was going to off himself He could not live with it any longer. It was so aggravating and it was so affecting his quality of life that he was going to end it. He's

going to totally end it. And just by maybe God's miracle, he was at home alone and I guess he started to have a coughing fit and he started choking and he decided to just like, there was no way he could pat him

on the back strong enough to jar this obstruction loose so he had a stool in his den and he just dropped he forced his chest plate right onto this stool he just like boom he slammed his own breastplate

into this this this like three foot high stool that was in his den and lo and behold a big chunk of like goo and blood and mucus splattered out on his den floor and in that chunk guess what was there a little chunk of a metal it was the pop top

it was the soda the little metal soda thing that you used to pop your your soda open can you believe it so for any of you pavement pounders listening if you ever accidentally thought you snorted a golf ball up your nose or you sat on a can of Pringles and a disappeared and you were wandering around the house going you know i wonder where that can of ranch style pringles went i mean ever since my ass hurts i can't seem to locate them huh and where's my car keys you know ever since i was snorting coke on the coffee table where i leave my car keys i can't find my car keys so if you have any type of weird memory where you think something got lodged in your body have them probe around until your face bleeds

because I think there's other stories like this that people go on for decades and suffer so don't take one opinion or one quick search as your final result like if you're pretty sure there's something in there go after it dig around so there you go man

there's our crazy new Story of the Day. Great way to start the show, isn't it? Yeah. All right. We got to roll in from one bodily function to the next. And I think this plays into the Harland Highway question of the day right here. The Harlan Highway Question of the Day. all right you ever have a moment where you wake up and i know you've all woken up if you didn't you'd be

dead um you wake up in the middle of the night or you wake up in the morning you've been asleep and you've been laying there you've been immobile you've been laying dormant passive comatose and all of a sudden you wake up and you sit up in bed and you're completely drenched in sweat. Has that happened to you guys, or am I the only, like, you know, abomination here? Am I the only weird, like, liquid water guy from the abyss? It's bizarre. Like, you know, it happened to me recently.

I woke up in the morning. I was in the hotel room. The air conditioner was on all night. I sat up and I felt the back of my head. My hair was wet. My back was like completely like drenched. Like I felt like it just come out of a swimming pool. My forehead was wet.

The front of my body wasn't wet. But the back of my, my back was like, if I could have seen it, it would have been glistening. You know when you see people at the gym and they've worked out and they've been pumping weights or playing basketball or whatever and their backs are just like liquid shiny because there's like a just a sheen of sweat and that's going to the gym

so does someone want to explain to me why that happens to me every now and then once in a blue moon well I'm laying there asleep and I don't know if you can blame it on dreams because dreams are mental and I can see you know if you're riddled with anxiety from a dream i could see your brow getting sweaty but how do you explain your whole back getting sweaty i i pretty much have to jog up a hill with a cow on my back to get a sweaty back all right easy betsy um so you know and i go on i'm not sick

because I didn't go to bed, feeling sick. And like five minutes after I'm up on my feet, I'm not sick. I'm not sick the next day or the day after. And then I start, you know, the wheels start turning. I'm like, okay, what is it if I got a deep-rooted? Is this the early signs of SARS? Is this a teaser for my upcoming Ebola? Is if I, you know, did I contract herpes 12 from a public toilet?

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answer but it's happened more than once in my life and i always find it creepy and i thought why haven't i ever talked about this so here i am the harland highway question of the day why do we wake up from a deep sleep sweaty the harland highway question of the day oh so there it is so what are we doing next roger who oh god this guy's here oh boy All right. Well, it is summertime, I guess. He usually does drop by. All right. I don't know why we have this guy. Samuel E. Quowke is here. He's coming in the studio. There he is. Sit over there, Samuel.

He is a wordsmith. He's a poet. He writes romantic prose. Who am I kidding? Look, that's how you bill yourself. But, you know, your romantic musings and writings always become very grisly and almost unbearable. I hope this time around you're going to, you know, at least give us something that even faintly smells of romance. Now he's glaring at me.

Okay, get over here. Come on. Ladies and gentlemen, Samuel E. Quowke, he's going to read one of his romantic letters for the summer. How are you today, Samuel? I am very good. Thank you very much. Okay, well, welcome to the Harland Highway again. Thank you very much, sir. All right, would you quit crinkling your paper? These are not papers. These are my romantic letters.

Okay, okay, we got it. Do you mind, sir? Do I mind what? Do you mind if I read my letters, sir? Yeah, just stop crinkling them. I'll do what I want as I read my romantic musings, sir. All right, what do you have for us today? I have romantic letters from a trip I took to Spain many decades ago. I wrote my memoirs down. Okay, are they good or are they going to get all

gory and weird? Do you mind, sir, not censoring me before I even read my letters? Oh boy, we wake up on the wrong side of the bed. Do you mind if I proceed to read, sir? Go ahead, Samuel E. Quowke. Thank you very much. It was the summer, 1932. You and I, Sandra, went to Spain on a cruise ship across the Great Divide, steaming across the ocean, standing out on the deck, watching the miles drift past. I'll never forget as we stood there one starry evening.

The sky sprang up. read before us like a velvet curtain covered with twinkling diamonds. You gazed into my eyes and I gazed deeply into yours, a slight warm tropical breeze coming from the tip of South America, whispering past our faces. And as we gaze deeper and deeper in each other's eyes, falling deeper and deeper in love, a strange tubular shadow emerged from,

out of the darkness, it sailed through the air like a baseball flying from the pictures mound, but yet this cylindrical shape had wings and big round, glowing eyes. It was a flying fish jumping from the surf, escaping a predatory fish. It flew for its life, skirting across the top of the waves, but somehow it gained elevation and veered upward and smacked you right under the chin. and I'll never forget how it made that horrible human flesh smacking on fish flesh sound. I believe your tongue was out.

You were about to give me one of your passionate French kisses, but the flying fish slammed your lower jaw shut and bit the tip of your tongue off, and you're choking on your own tongue meat, your bloody mouth. All right, do you mind, sir. What are you doing, guy? I'm reading a romantic letter. Do you mind?

Wow, you're off to your usual good start, Quoak. Do you mind if I continue, sir? Boy, I can't wait. Keep going. This is just, boy, I'm feeling real tingly all over. Do you mind, sir? Go ahead, freak. I'll never forget as we finally made it to Spain.

Your mouth had had a little bit of time to heal over the week-long journey across the ocean. First thing we did no sooner had we landed, our escorts whisked us off to a wonderful Spanish tradition. We were taken to the large, large emporium where the bullfighting took place. A huge round, oval-shaped cathedral filled with throngs of Spaniards screaming and cheering

as the Matador walked out into the center of the ring. People were wildly yelling his name and applauding, many of them throwing roses, roses, bundles of roses, down into the stadium at his feet. I'll never forget as we stood there and a bushel of roses hurtled through the air and accidentally didn't make it all the way down, and their prickly stems caught the side of your velvety soft face.

The thorns from the roses digging deep, like a cougar biting into your face. I remember how you screamed, yet your scream was somehow warbled because half your tongue was missing, and you couldn't quite enunciate the pain-filled scream. You sounded like a grackle with a bad case of diarrhea. The thorns of the roses stuck in your face, biting like a cowboy, climbing through barbed wire, blood spurting from your temples.

All right. Do you mind, sir? What the hell is this guy? I'm reading a romantic letter. A bushel of roses gets thrown down, doesn't make it to the Matador, and get stuck in your girlfriend's face? I'm glad to see you are listening, sir.

Oh, I'm listening all right, and I'm about to puke. She started screaming like, what was it? A grackle with diarrhea? Till you mine, sir. Wow, I hope this ride's almost over, Quowk. May I continue, please, sir? Hurry up with your creepy letter. I remember the mad bull came rushing from his pen, fury in his eyes, froth foaming from his mouth,

his nose wet and shiny, his muscles glistening in the sun, a large rack of horns on the top of his head, shiny and pointy, ready to destroy the Matador that opposed him. The Matador took a stance, almost statuesque like a ballet of life and death between man and beast. and the bull enraged, charged at the Matador's red cape, the Matador stabbing his blade into the hump of the mighty beast. The bull ran and turned around, blood and froth in his eyes. He charged again, and the Matador sidestepped, and went to thrust his blade into the beast once more.

But he slipped. He tripped over the beast's mighty hoof, falling backwards. He let go of his long, Four-foot sword and it hurtled through the air, spinning skyward, flying towards the crowd, people running and ducking, but not you, Sandra. Somehow you were preoccupied, pulling rose thorns out of the side of your butchered up face. And as I stood there watching you pluck those deep pieces of flower groggle from your face, the giant blade of the Matador flew out of the sky, like a diving eagle and slammed right through your chest plate. You were pinned to the seats, blood gurgling from your blundioned up blood.

All right. Do you mind, sir? Are you finished, guy? Are you telling me this guy's sword flew up in the air and out of all the people in the stadium? It landed in your girlfriend's chest? I'm afraid I only report what I see, sir. I write romantic letters, and this is what I've written. Oh, boy.

This is really grues... You sure you're not Stephen King? Do you mind, sir? Yes, I mind. You're both the creepiest guy we ever have on this show. May I finish, please, sir? Yes, please do. Hurry up. Thank you very much.

I'll never forget as you stood there, blood covering your body. You almost became a red statue standing in the crowd. Everyone else had parted. And then the bull down there below. Fire in his eyes, rage in his belly, Hellstrom and Brinkle pouring in his hot breath. All of a sudden something caught his eye up in the stands. It was something red like the cape that the Matador

I'd been taunting him with, and it was you, it was you standing there, draped in your own crimson blood, almost an invitation for the infuriated bull to charge. With the Matador on the ground and helpless, the bull turned his attention towards you, Samantha, and he ran with all his mighty might, his powerful legs churning up the dust as he charged towards the stands, his hoofs and his back legs, vaulting him through the air, he launched his whole mighty frame up into the sky, landing in the stands, and running, charging up through the seats until at last he came to you, red and teasing and tempting. He rammed his giant horns through your chest, through your throat and into the middle of

your forehead, gorging you like a waffle being poured into a waffle iron. You were dripping and smearing as if someone had thrown you into a ceiling fan and spit you out into a helicopter blade. The bull stomping on your skull, I could hear it popping like a walnut at Christmas with a child's fingers cracking it with a nutcracker. Oh, Samantha, oh, all right! crap guy you're telling me the ball flew up into the seats and started ramming this chick she's not a chick she's Samantha thank you very much she's ground beef is what it sounds like guy i'll ask you not to use profanities please uh that wasn't a profanity that was a fact may i finish please no i've heard enough okay i've had it

And then the bull took his mighty cloven hoofs and kicked one. It actually went somehow miraculously up your nostrils. It was like a staged scene right out of the three stooges, your burnt head being lifted up off the ground. Hoofs up your nostrils, your head banging around like a cabbage in a rotten basket full of eggplants. It would stop at! Do you mind? No, out of here! Get out of here!

And while your mouth was hanging open, the bull took a mighty giant bullshit right in your throat. Get out! Get out! Unreal. Roger, never again. That pretty much ruined my summer. The bull took a giant bullshit right down her mouth. And she gasped for air.

She chewed the bullshit in order to stop. Get out! Done! Wow! Go to a commercial. I gotta cool off. We'll be right back. Unreal Samuel E. Quout, romantic letters.

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I mean, roses in her face. What the hell is with Samuel E. Quoak? We're done. We're done for today. And speaking of today, I want to apologize. The last couple of weeks, the show has been a little bit late by a day or so. So if you'll please forgive yours truly. It's been a very busy time for me.

I've been touring all over the U.S., running from city to city. It's been pretty hectic, a lot going on. So it has been a little more difficult to get the shows out in their time slot. But, you know, that's a rare occurrence here at the Harlan Highway. I know you come to depend on them on a certain time and day. So we will hopefully get back on track here. We're a few hours late, but we're here nonetheless. And I want to thank Houston.

Houston, Texas, had a great weekend out there doing stand-up comedy shows. My thanks to everybody in Houston who came out. Had a blast. And that's it. I have no more stand-up shows here in, in the month of June. So let's look at July on New York, New York at Levity Live, just outside of Manhattan.

That's July 9th through the 12th, July 9th through 12th, New York Levity Live. You can go to my website and get the info. Also, I'll be at the Pemberton Music Festival in British Columbia on July 19th. This is a big outdoor giant music fest. And then that next coming weekend, July 23rd to the 25th, I'll be in Montreal, Quebec, at the Just For Laugh's Comedy Festival, the biggest comedy festival on planet Earth. If you're up that way, it is well worth your while.

Later in August, I have one date in Irvine, California. That will be August. through 23rd in Orange County. They built out a brand new comedy club down there, a brand new improv. They moved the old one just down the way in the same mall, and it's got like double the seating, and it's really state of the art.

So great place to catch the kid busting a move. So there you go. Don't forget to jump on my Periscope feed. That's the app on your, cell phone where you can watch me being a moron live in the moment wherever you are in the world that's periscope also uh join my twitter at harlan williams periscope is at harlan williams uh join my youtube channel on my uh on my web page you can subscribe to that and you will get um you will get uh you will get all my little wacky videos that i do coming to you firsthand

um what else can i tell you check out our store we have all kinds of fun merchandise for sale in the web store at harlom williams.com and you can also check on all those uh stand-up comedy dates you can also uh write me there at harlem williams dot com on the uh contact page and you can always call me and leave a voicemail 323 739 4330 that's 323739 4330 hearing from you guys so that's it um have a great summer we are in the thick of it here and uh thank you for being here and until next time chicken show me baby