The following entry is from a most excellent acting contributor who delivered me some fine Coldfx this morning, That Girl. Despite her being as bogged down as I am in words-for-money offline, which is partially why I've got these guest bloggers in the first place, she kindly gave me this entry without complaint.
When people say they can keep secrets they should just say 'I only tell my closest friends'. I tell Schmutzie most everything, not just because she's awesome. But, because in the event of an apocalypse, I'm a firm believer she'll replace the internet. I don't mean we'll strap roller blades to her feet and make her deliver yellow smiley faces and Viagra ads. No. I mean the knowledge of the universe will be kept inside her head.
So here's my plan in the event of a world crippling disaster. I'm going to construct an information booth from whatever remnants I find in the streets; car hoods, melted street signs, charred children, whatever. It'll be like Lucy's therapy booth in the Charlie Brown comics, except we won't have Schmutzie offering psychiatric help for five cents. Oh no. We’re going to make a mint.
The Palinode can handle the money. I'm going to hustle out front.
"Get your monkey facts. Red hot monkey facts. Did you know monkeys never catch colds? That a monkey was once tried and convicted for smoking a cigarette in South Bend, Indiana? Is it true? You'll just have to ask the Great Schmutzie-ni for this and all your other trivia needs. Monkey facts. Get your red hot monkey facts."
You laugh now but when the sky goes black and your eating grubs and goose poop you'll be begging me for a megaphone.