The Harland Highway - 805 - DEBATES between Cap' Lames T. Kirk and Cinamon Boy. Harland reads his new short story.

Episode Date: September 29, 2016

Presidential style debates between Cap'n James T. Kirk and Cinnamon Boy. Harland reads 1st segment of his water hose short story. 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

Wakey, waky, eggs and bakey. Hello, everybody. Welcome to the Highland Highway podcast. What's up, my players? What a show we have today. As you know, tonight is the very first presidential debate between Hillary Clinton and Donald J. Trump. And it turns out my boss who loves the political arena is demand. that I do a debate on the podcast today with some familiar voices from the Harlan Highway

podcast. I'm expecting a nightmare. Wait to you hear this debate happening here. Yikes! Also, as I've been talking about, I wrote a short story, which turned out to be a long story, 70 pages long, based on a podcast they did on episodes. 500 drinking from a water hose going back in time and so I'm going to read you the first 10 minutes of that story today on the back end of the podcast see if you like it see if it intrigues you

see if it's anything good or if it's just a giant waste of time and I should have drowned myself with that water hose but it's a fun experiment why do we do it we do it for you because this is ladies and gentlemen the harland highway Where am I? What is this? Some kind of a joke or something? Welcome to the Harland Highway. What you're talking about Williams?

Son, you got a panty on your head. Shut up and sit down, you big ball fuck. Oh, God, what's happening here? What's happened? Hey, Harland, it's Shelby. You just made a wrong turn. On to the Harland Highway. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other thing.

Not because they are easy, but because they are hard. That is fantastic. What's wrong with everybody in this crazy place? The Harland Highway. What is it? The opening. To what? To another dimension.

This is Harland Williams. You're a bad man. You're a very bad man. That is fantastic. All right, all right, all right. Welcome to the podcast, ladies and gurgleblaggans. So, listen, as you know, tonight is this. is the first presidential debate between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump.

Our presidential nominees, one of them will become president of the United States. We don't know who, but, you know, you certainly can't stress enough the importance of the debate, having a good debate performance, and I guess my boss, Mr. Featherstone, is quite the political junkie. He watches the news all the time. He follows the political stories. He loves the debates. Apparently he watched all 11 debates for the Republicans and all two debates for the Democrats during the run-up to the primaries here. And he kind of sent down the word from upstairs because he runs the show.

and I just I don't know that I agree with this, but he feels like to keep in tune with our listeners that it's important that is this for real, Roger? He wants us to have a debate here at the Harland Highway between two of our frequent guests. Oh boy, this already smells bad. So I'm reading the memo here.

He wants to have a debate. between cinnamon boy and Captain James T. Kirk. Are you kidding? A political debate between these two? Later in the show. Okay. Well, later in the show. He wants to do it now? They're in the lot. Oh, my God. All right. Send them in. I've got to prepare the studio for this. If we got extra microphones? Okay. So it sounds like we're going to have a political. debate about the important issues facing America in this election. In the spirit of the presidential debate, my boss wants cinnamon boy of all people and Captain James T. Kirk to have a debate. Let me prep the studio. And when we come back from

this commercial, we will have a full-on debate between these two. Oh, boy. has time for a yeast infection, there's monostat. I don't know how to get around a yeast infection, but I do know how to get over it. Quay. Monostat 7. Nothing you can buy without a prescription cures faster. Maybe that's why more doctors recommend it. Now I can sail on to something more important. Someone figured out there are things I'd rather be thinking about. Monastat, because no woman I know has time for yeast infection. Welcome to the 2016 presidential debates here at the Harland Highway. Good evening. I am your host and moderator of these very important debates.

My name is Harland Williams, host of the Harland Highway podcast. We are assembled here today with our two candidates, our two debates, our two debaters, and we will be discussing some very hot topics today, some social issues, some global issues, some economic issues, the issues that people are concerned about, the issues that people want to see direction and hope to get answers on, the issues that make up our daily lives. And so this is a very, very important debate, and we are proud to be holding this debate and we would like to welcome our two distinguished debaters here today to tackle these very serious issues.

Please welcome our first debater from New York, Manhattan Island. Please welcome the distinguished, the decorated Captain James. T. Kirk. Captain, welcome to the Harland Highway podcast debates. I'm most grateful to be here. I can't wait to get started. Okay, well, you might have to talk a little faster. I hear what you say, and I will comply. Okay, and our other debater here, of course, I believe. He comes from Baltimore or Tennessee or someplace. I'm not sure I really want to know.

Please, hello, welcome Cinnamon Boy. Hi, I'm Cinnamon Boy, and I love cinnamon. Okay, now you know you're going to have to talk about a myriad of various topics here today. You mean like cinnamon? Well, we're going to be dipping in. Well, I won't give away the topics. Why don't we just get right into the debate? here's our first question.

The first question will go to you, Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise. Captain Kirk, how do you intend to disable, disarm, and ultimately defeat ISIS? Well, I feel like I am the candidate who can best be equipped to do this type of thing. As you know, I am the captain of the U.S. Enterprise, and we are fully loaded with a battalion of different weapons. Okay, that being said, sir, different weapons, but is that enough to stop ISIS? I do believe that ISIS can be defeated with a full-on, full-on torpedo. I'm sorry, sir A

Torpon torpedo Sir A full on torpedo Sir, are you having difficulty I'm trying to say A full on torpedo You're talking about a torpedo From the deck of the USS Enterprise

I think I made my position very clear I would be willing to put up the force shields and fire upon ISIS from deep space from the fourth millennium and take them out with a torpon torpedo. Okay, so you wouldn't send in troops? I may be tempted to beam down a couple, maybe Mr. Spock and a landing party.

You're going to beam down. your science officer and a landing party. I don't see why I wouldn't. I've done it on many other occasions on many other planets. Okay, cinnamon boy, how would you tackle the problem of ISIS? They're mounting dominance, they're mounting terror, they're mounting everything. Cinnamon! Okay, see, this is where I would cover them with cinnamon.

And then I'd get a great big cinnamon. a great big cinnamon stick, and I'd bash them in the head with cinnamon! Because I'm cinnamon, boy, and I love cinnamon! Stop it! Stop! Every answer better not be cinnamon. Well, I don't know why it wouldn't, Shirley, Shirley. Because we are looking for real solutions here, Cinnamon Boy. And I think I have them.

You know what? If I may add to my ISIS situation and resolution. Yes, Captain Kirk, please go ahead. I would also be willing to use phasers on ISIS. You'd be willing to use phasers on it. You know your phasers aren't real. They're just props. I would be willing to put my phasers on stun if I needed to.

but I would also be willing to take the phasers off stun if things escalated. Okay, and would you like a lightsaber too, Kirk? I don't know what that is. Is that some kind of weapon you're referring to? Yeah, you know what? What about a cinnamon stick? I could walk right up to Isis, smack him in the head with a cinnamon stick, and say, I'm cinnamon boy.

I love cinnamon. smack! Stop yelling, kid! Well, you asked for an answer, and I gave you one. Cinnamon, cinnamon, cinnamon! Stop it! If I could add what... No, we're moving on, Captain James T. Kirk. I could also...

No, no, no. Let's talk about the economy. Everybody's hurting, everybody is suffering. The economy has still not been. revived yet. It's still faltering. It's still kind of wavering in that kind of no man's land. Let's start with you, cinnamon boy. How would you help revive today's economy? Cinnamon! Okay, you know what? What I would do is I'd give everyone free cinnamon so they can sniff it and feel better because I'm cinnamon boy and I love cinnamon. Stop it!

Kirk, do you have a much better answer than cinnamon? I believe I do. Okay, and what is it? I would beam down Lieutenant O'Hura to every community so that they could pimp her out as a prostitute to make money off her. Excuse me? I do believe you understand why her name is O'Hura, because she's a whore.

And I would let each community make money off her naked body. Okay, you know what? Cinnamon boy, as much as I think I already know the answer, how would you help stimulate the economy? Cinnamon! I would give everybody cinnamon! Because when there's cinnamon, there's happy faces, and people don't care about money. Because I'm cinnamon boy, and I love cinnamon! Stop it! Holy shit! This is going exactly the way I thought it would. Let's speed along. Black Lives Matter. Can I just ask you if I could interject? Yes, Captain Kirk.

I would also like to say that Klingon lives matter. Klingons aren't real, Captain Kirk. I would also like to say cinnamon lives matter. There's no such thing as a cinnamon life. And I would also like to add that Romulan lives matter. Romulans don't exist. They were made up in your TV show, Kirk. And cinnamon lives are real, because I should know I'm cinnamon boy, and I love cinnamon.

Stop it! Can I also add that Vulcan Lives Matter? I must, in defense of my first officer of science, Mr. Spock, add that Vulcan Lives Matter. There is no such thing as Vulcans. Holy shit. This is the stupidest debate I've ever... Can I say something? Let me guess, cinnamon?

No, Cinnamon. I'm cinnamon boy, and I love cinnamon, and cinnamon lives matter! Stop it! Last question! Hey everybody, who wants to have better sex? No, yes? Yes, the answer is yes. You always want to have better sex. That's what, you want it to be better, not worse, trust me.

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Harland to check out. That's Harland, H-A-R-L-A-N-D at Adam and Eve.com. This is an exclusive offer specific to this podcast. So be sure to use this code Harland so you get your discount and 100% free shipping. Code Harland. Have fun. Don't throw your back out. Gun control! How do you feel about the Second Amendment, Captain James T. Kirk? I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with the Second Amendment. Could we dial it back a bit and maybe you could give me the First Amendment, so I know what that is and maybe we can work our way up to the Second Amendment? You don't know what the Second Amendment is.

Should I? You're the captain of a decorated starship. roaming the galaxy and you don't know what the second amendment is. I also don't know the recipe for French toast. Is that a problem? You know what? As much as I hate to go to this guy, Cinnamon Boy, how do you feel about guns and guns in the hands of American citizens?

I say take the guns out of their hands and give them a nice, long, slender cinnamon stick. Because cinnamon sticks are hard, and I've hit. Hit lots of things with a cinnamon stick. I've smashed pinaas. I've smashed bullfrogs in the head. And I smash fat ladies in the ass and old ladies in the throne. Because I'm cinnamon boy. And I love cinnamon.

Stop it. Shut up. It's over. It's over. I can't take it anymore. Could you tell me what the 12th Amendment is, at least? I'm not telling you anything. Debate over.

Nobody won. I won. My podcast law. And cinnamon! Shut up! It's done, it's over. May I please make another comment? No, you can't make a comment about anything.

We're done. Cinnamon's never done. Just ask me, because I'm cinnamon boy, and I love cinnamon! Shut up! Go to a commercial debate over, everybody fucking lost, idiots! Cinnamon! That might be the dumbest thing we've ever done on this podcast.

Good Lord. Never again. I don't care if it came from upstairs from Featherstone. A debate is an intellectual conversation between two intelligent human beings who have a knowledge of the facts. of the topics of the world in general. We ended up with a delusional space captain from a fake TV show and an idiot kid

whose whole existence revolves around cinnamon. And you actually thought we were going to... Can we get to something real? You know, here's what I want to do. I promised you guys on the last podcast that I was going to start If anyone's even listening at this point now, you know what I mean? I was going to read like 10 pages from my short story, the Garden Hose Time Machine.

And so in keeping with that promise, I think we'll start it today. We'll get back to something a little more normal here. and for those of you that don't know or haven't been listening, I did a podcast a long time ago, episode 500. You can go back and hear it if you want, if you're a premium member. And I did a bit about drinking from a water hose as an adult and how when I did it, it took me back in time to when I was a kid. I had all these flashbacks of when I was in my youth.

Because let's face it, most of us as adults never drink from a garden hose. But we did all the time. time as a kid and it just kind of triggered all these memories and I got a bunch of phone calls and emails from people saying, hey, I had a similar experience and it kind of prompted me to want to write a short story about the topic. So I just kind of sat down and what I thought was going to be maybe a 20 page story turned out to be 70 pages long and too long to read to all you guys in one sitting. So what I'm going to do is I'm going to kind of every show I'll read like 10 pages or 10 minutes, whatever comes first.

And so here we go. This is the first installment of a short story I wrote inspired by drinking from a garden hose. The Garden Hose Time Machine, Part 1. The lawnmower rumbled like an agitated dog being woken from its sleep. Brett pushed it lazily over the tall green grass sprouting on the front lawn. The sun was punishing, beating down on him relentlessly. No cover, no place to hide, not one cloud in the whole sky. The summer had been brutal, record temperatures for the last three weeks. Everyone was on edge, agitated, flustered, unable to get comfortable. Sherry had been on Brett's ass for five days to cut the lawn.

He won't a know part of it until today. Yeah, today was the final straw where she didn't ask him this time. She just gave him that look where her left eyebrow goes up a fraction of an inch, followed by a dead stare. From his vantage point sprawled out on the couch, Brett knew exactly what it meant. Cut the grass or weren't another fight for the next ten days. But grudgingly, Brett pulled his overweight, 43-year-old body up off the couch, adjusted his tattered green shorts, and slipped his unkempt feet into his dirty-looking flip-flops.

Brent was a slob, and he knew it. That's why he didn't want to cut the grass. It was too much for him. Life was easier lying on the couch, watching football, eating chips, napping. Yes, cutting the grass was just too much effort at his age. Brett hadn't always been like this. Underneath the roll under his chin, there used to be quite a chiseled jaw line. Young, healthy skin, white teeth, an all-American smile that caused little creases in his cheeks.

He was a good-looking kid, athletic too. Brett was a wide receiver on the high school football team. In fact, it was being on the football team that ended up leading him to Sherry. It was during a practice one day. Brett had busted a cleat on his left shoe. As he hopped back towards the dressing room, he saw a cute blonde girl sitting in the bleachers with two of her friends. They watched Brett struggle past them,

and as hard as they tried, they could not help but burst into laughter. Brett stopped and stared at them, thinking they were total geeks. He shook his head and kept walking his crooked walk to the dressing room. He was never sure why, but for some reason he took a quick, looked back over his shoulder, and his eyes somehow locked with Shelly's, just for a second, maybe even two or three, but that's all. It was inconsequential, or so Brett had thought, but later that night, and for the next two weeks, all he could think about were her eyes, those beautiful, round, blue eyes. The lawnmour engine vibrated, more than it should have, probably.

was too lazy to ever change the oil or even top it off for that matter this made the engine work twice as hard and make twice as much noise brett didn't care he was numb to it in fact at this stage in his life he had become numb to just about everything his wife his job his kids everything as brett came to the perimeter of the lawn he took a wide turn and spun the lawn more around, pointing it back to where he had just come. There were long, even lines swathed across the lawn. It actually looked rather manicured. He sighed, realizing he wasn't even halfway done. Already his whole body was dripping with sweat. His forehead had large beads of perspiration dripping from it, falling to the grass like salty raindrops. His ungroomed armpits released streams of

perspiration that slid down his fleshy sides and careened over his fat-filled love handles. His skin was pale and pasty. Brett hadn't really spent much time in the outdoor world when he didn't have to. His wheelhouse was soft, cushiony chairs, couches, restaurants with the All You Can Eat buffets. Brett wasn't obese, but he could certainly stand to lose at least 50 pounds. As he pushed the mower back across the center of the lawn, his two children ran through the gate, followed by Sherry. Nathan and Kelly were just two years apart in age. Nathan ate and Kelly six.

They were at that age where their father meant everything to them. They were like little puppies at his feet. They just wanted to please them. Unfortunately, Brett's playtime days had long gone past, and guiltily he often dreaded his own kids, knowing that they yearn for his energy, hoping he would play with them. In this moment, Brett was almost grateful for the lawnmower. As his adoring kids charged toward him, he was able to sternly wave them off,

warning them of the impending danger in the form of a lawnmour and its spinning blades. He had an out. The lawnmour he had moments before despised was now his ally and friend, conspiring to keep his own children at bay. As Brett waved his arms and the look of excitement instantly faded from his children's faces, they knew their daddy was off limits as long as he was shielded by the lawnmower. Sadly, they knew this drill and did not pursue it. Like trained animals, they changed course and headed straight towards the house.

Shelly walked hastily, barely looking up at Brett. Her arms were filled with several grocery bags. and she looked hot and flustered. Brett felt insulted that she wasn't recognizing the colossal effort he had made to get up off the couch and cut the grass. All this cutting and not even a hello from his own wife? In protest, Brett reached down and shut the lawnmower off before Shelley could reach the door.

The lawnmower took its sweet time going silent. Almost as if letting out a long, exhausted breath, the lawnmower motor whined to a stop, sputtering just before falling silent. How'd the shopping go? Brett asked without really caring. Hot. Nathan kept pulling cans off the shelf. He drives me nuts. Shelley kept walking, clearly not interested in striking up a conversation. Hey, do you think he can grab me a drink, babe? Hot as horse shit out here.

Shelley stopped just for a second and exhaled a little puff of air. Brett, do you not see I'm overloaded? here. How about it'll help with these bags? Babe, I'm cutting the grass here. I'm boiling. Oh, and I'm not? Come on, Brett. Shelly gave him a little stare of exhaustedness and kept walking toward the door. Okay, fine, whatever, thanks. Shelly rolled her eyes at his poor little old me inflection and then hustled on into the house.

Brett really was thirsty. This heat was zapping the moisture from his body, but he didn't want to go on the house and have the kids swarmed him, and he didn't want Shelly to think that she had won the get-me-and-drink stand-off. He could always use it as leverage for later. Brett licked his lips. They were dry, chapped, craving something in a liquid form. It was in that moment that Brett noticed the water hose sticking out from behind the shrubs. He could see the nozzle perched on a flat stone, a few drips of water leaking from the spout. Brett just became thirstier. Now he began imagining the water from the hose

pouring down his parched throat. Why not? He half-whispered to himself. Brett lumbered over to the garden hose and picked it up. The spout hung in his right hand while his other hand fumbled behind the bush and turned on the water. Instantly Brett felt the vibration in the hose.

He could feel water coursing through it, coiling around through the twisted chambers of its innards. Within seconds the clear flowing water erupted out of the end of the hose and soaked the surrounding grass. Brett stood there and watched it for a second, slightly confused, mesmerized even. He couldn't remember the last time he had held a hose like this, perhaps when he was a little boy. The sound of the gurgling water splashing all over the ground made Brett smile. It was a familiar sound, a sound he knew from his childhood. Without another moment's hesitation, Brett leaned over and brought the water hose up to his thirsty mouth.

Almost the instant the water hit Brett's lips, he felt relief and satisfaction. The water was slightly warm, but grew colder as the water that had been heated up, lying dormant in the hose, was pushed out. The cooler water came in behind, and Brayette. cherished it. He closed his eyes as the clear, cool liquid filled his mouth. He gulped it down like a ravenous dog lapping sloppily from its water bowl. This was just the relief Brett was looking for. Not only was his thirst being satiated, but the drinking from the hose seemed to be calming his mind. It was relaxing him, taking his thoughts off all the things that seemed to stress him out. His jobs, the fights with his wife, the kids. As Brett continued to ravage the water,

a smile crept onto his face. He actually started giggling slightly. There was something about the sheer innocence and joy of drinking from the hose that seemed to be taking him back, a place in his mind that was long ago. When he was just a boy, yes, that's it, a boy. In his mind, he was transported to the house where he grew up, the backyard where he used to play catch with his father. Brett was having vivid memories how he and his dad would throw the football back and forth for hours, both of them breaking every so often to drink from the garden hose, the one that hung on the wall right beside his mother's rose garden.

Brett was now drinking more than he probably needed to. His thirst had been quenched, but yet he continued to let the flowing water cascade across his lips. The sensation was just too pleasurable. Brett didn't want to let go of the nostalgic feelings that seemed to come from drinking from the hose. He just held it, submerged in those glorious memories. Hey kiddo! Suddenly Brett heard a voice calling. It came from across the yard behind him. Somehow the voice seemed familiar, but he wasn't sure. Brett's eyes popped open, the tap water gurgling out of the hose and landing on the ground, splashing in all directions. You're going to drink all day or work on your long ball? Brett's heart froze. Suddenly he knew the

voice. It was a voice he hadn't heard in over 25 years. It was his father. Dad? Brett whispered to himself nervously. Trepidatiously, he slowly turned his head towards the voice. What he saw was almost enough to make him collapse. There, at the far end of the yard, not his yard, but now the yard from his house where he grew up as a boy, stood his father, Norm Coleman, car salesman Norm Coleman, in his brown slacks, his yellow golf shirt, and his big Crosby-style straw hat. Brett couldn't move. He blinked his eyes together quickly three times. tiny drops of water falling off his drenched lips. He was in complete shock.

Well, you're going to throw the ball and up, Brettie? Brett dropped the hose and ran for the door of the house. The hose spun around on the ground, writhing uncontrollably like a snake with its head chopped off, water spurting everywhere. Brett ran through the house, charging up the stairs, slamming the bedroom door behind him. Sherry, who was still unpacking the groceries, whirled around just in time to catch him speeding past um you left the door wide open brett there was no disguising her agitation as she yelled after him do you want to let all the bugs in look mummy the hose is dancing

ha ha Kelly giggled as the unattended hose continued to spray water indiscriminately all over the yard including the windows that sherry had just washed a few weeks earlier rolling her eyes sherry motioned and Nathan to run outside. And you left the hose running full blast. Have you seen our water bills lately? Come on, Brett. It's dancing, Mommy. Kelly continued to chime.

Nathan, would you please go out there and turn that thing off? I'm going to go and talk to your father. God damn it. Nathan ran out through the open door and dashed towards the garden hose. Kelly continued to laugh from her perch on the kitchen stool as Nathan chased the hose around aimlessly, trying to bring it under control Sherry burst into the bedroom

with the words of an argument already forming in her head this was all too familiar ground the fights have been many lately and she had memorized her monologue of disappointments as the door opened she let it all come out

Brett do you even give a fuck anymore about this family about anything all I ask is that you cut the grass once a week try not to drink too much beer and maybe, just maybe, give your kids a hug now and then? Is that asking too much, huh? Is it? Brent didn't look up.

He was sitting on the side of the bed with his hands covering his face. Sherry wasn't finished. You leave the hose running, the lawn isn't even half cut, and would it have killed you to help me bring up the groceries? Brett didn't move, his eyes still covered by his fingers. Oh, so now you won't even look at me. Emotion started to seep into Sherry's voice. She swallowed the extra saliva that had built up in her mouth from her impassioned rant.

She waited for Brett to reply. Uncomfortable silence hung in the air. A silence filled with all the unsaid things that two struggling people probably should have said a long time ago. Sherry waited. So, this is where we're at? After 19 years of marriage, we don't even talk? Sherry crossed her arms and shifted her weight to her other leg. Brett! Hello!

Anyone in there? Suddenly, Brett's body heaved and a muffled snort escaped from behind his cuffed hands. Brett! Sherry looked slightly confused, if not concerned. Slowly, Brett pulled his hands down from his face, his head turning to face Sherry. Brett's eyes were swollen, his cheeks red. tears smeared all over his face now sherry was most definitely concerned her body language softened

she lowered her arms and cocked her head her voice softened as well baby are you okay i'm sorry share he couldn't finish what the hell is going on baby sherry now walked toward him uh I think I saw him. I saw who? Sherry demanded. You're going to think I'm insane. Brett, was there someone in our yard? I didn't see anyone. Sherry sat gently on the bed beside Brett. Brett looked at her and searched her face, almost as if hoping she would have the answers. His eyelashes were soaked with tears. The whites of his eyes ran around the edges. Who, Brett? Who did you see? What is this all about?

I saw my dad. There was uncertainty in his voice, but he continued. He was standing over by the fence. He was holding my football, the one that I had when I was a kid. Sherry stared at him. Clearly, I'm prepared for his answer. What is all she could muster? I know, I know it's crazy.

I thought maybe I was hallucinating or something, but he was there. As plain as day, I saw him. He called me Breddy. He's the only one that ever called me Breddy. Another lone tear slid down Brett's cheek. Well, at the same time, Sherry stood up and took a step back from the bed. She turned and glared at him. Your dad? Norm?

Are you shitting me? I'm telling you. I'm telling you he was there, Cher. you know what brett i'm right at the edge here i'm right at the very edge i don't know if i can do this it's just it's just been going on for too long sherry's voice was mixed with anger and pain her voice had softened but it was because she was hurting not because she was less angry do you even want to be a family anymore brett what what does that mean you're barely here anymore brett it It feels like you checked out years ago.

Look at you. You don't talk to me anymore. You don't laugh with me anymore. You don't. Sherry began to cry. Maybe on purpose. She couldn't bear to say what she was thinking. I don't what.

Go on finish. I don't what. You barely talk to your kids, Brett. You think they don't notice? You think they don't feel that? It's like you're just putting in time. Sherry, no, Brett pleaded. I'm telling you, it was my dad.

He wanted to play catch. He wanted to shut the fuck up, Brett, Sherry screamed. Her anger finally coming out. Your father, really? Are you sure wasn't the nine beers you drank? Well, I was out shopping with the kids. Did you see some pink elephants, too? Sherry charged toward the bedroom door.

Baby, no, this is for real. I swear he was in the yard. Sherry stopped abruptly and turned. The stare in her eyes could have stopped a train. What's real, Brett, is that you are losing this family. Now Sherry's tears started to come. You don't want to be here anymore. It's painfully obvious.

And you have the balls to blame your inability to even finish cutting the goddamn grass on your father? Are you delusional? Baby, it's true. Brett interrupted meekly. your father died from a stroke when you were 18 Brett 25 fucking years ago so do you want to try a different excuse

because you probably have about two left to your name and then Sherry turned and slammed the bedroom door Brett stood there alone broken confused and possibly a little scared okay there you go the first part of the time machine water hose or the water hose time machine, however you want to call it.

I don't know. What do you think? I have no idea what to think. I wrote it, so I'm kind of like standing here in the dark thinking, is it compelling? Is it interesting? Is it a good start? A bad start? I don't know.

I'll leave it up to you guys. And like I said, I'll read another 10 pages on the next podcast. And if you're a premium member, you can hear the whole damn thing. If you can't wait to hear the whole story over the next seven or six podcasts, you can hear it all right away if you become a premium member today. So there you go. Hope you enjoyed that gang. Always open to hearing your feedback.

You can write me at harlomwilms.com. There's a contact link on the, website or you can phone me 323739 4330 3230 323739 4330 that phone number is on the website too in case you can't remember it the phone rings about four or five times before the answering machine picks up so don't be intimidated leave a message if you want um also while you're at harland williams.com check out our store uh check out our app or podcast page, and you can figure out through that how to become a premium member. Only $20 a year.

You get you all these extra perks. My extra podcast, The Harlan Highway, Let's Have a Fight podcast, stand-up comedy clips, special interviews, all that stuff. Plus, the whole back catalog of every single episode of over 800 episodes of the Harlan Highway. Can you believe it? 800. Woo! Also, what else, check out my stand-up comedy schedule while you're there. I will be this weekend in Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh PA, ladies and gentlemen, at the improv in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, at September 30th through to October the 2nd, yes.

And then the following weekend I'll be in Minnesota. at the Mall of America, October 6 to the 9th, at Rick Bronson's House of Comedy. So some good stuff. Later in October, October 20th through the 23rd, I'll be at the improv in San Jose, California. Unbelievable club. I love it up there. I love it. I love it.

So yeah, let me know what you thought of the story. Or if you don't want to say a word, just keep on listening. And if you don't like it, you can always. you know, just bail out of it. And yes, I realized that I was a podcast late with my political debate. I got my podcast a little mixed up. Sometimes I put the wrong material in the wrong podcast. So today's debate should have happened on the last podcast.

But nonetheless, it was still a horrible debate. Anyhow. So there you go. I'm going to leave it there. Thanks for being here, everybody. Tell your friends to get on the... the Harland Highway so they can enjoy all this lunacy. And until next time, chicken chowmaine, baby.