Last he checked in, it seemed that he was tending to the real-life challenges that might befall any responsible adult who has family and friends and career ambitions.
My hope is that someday he will have the time to come back and entertain us with his myriad of wit and obscure pop culture knowledge.
When he returns, let’s give him a gift. Let’s give him a thread of jokes and puns and the usual silly stuff that he likes to crack wise about.
Here’s the set-up…
The old grizzled barkeep, seeing as no other was in hearing distance, leans toward you and asked:
"I heard you are in the know. So, what really did happen to Donald Petersen?"
Have you ever seen Jumanji? Well, you know how the good Donald loved to immerse himself in game play, right? He got all caught up in a new, untested game at BB and next thing you know – poof! – he was gone. All we can do now is sit and wait for the story line to come back 'round to one of the recent threads. Maybe something to do with bananas? We should just look at them.
The door appeared and opened itself to Mr. Petersen.
“Where does it lead?” he asked.
“Someplace far from here. Someplace strange,” the door said.
"Must I leave now?
“Yes.”
“Can I come back?”
“Few choose to.”
Mr. Petersen took a step forward. He peered into the emptiness. A wry smile came over his face as he realized that he could only do as he must. He stepped through the open door. The door closed behind him and unincorporated itself.
Mr. Petersen picked it up, and checked out the label. It was a reasonable thing to do. After all, what good’s a jar unless you know the contents?
“GET STUFF’D!” shouted the label in an unfriendly bold comic sans.
“That’s not a nice way to treat fellow,” said Mr. Peterson, to no one in particular.
“You’re quite right. Terribly rude - my apologies,” came the reply, from nowhere in particular.
The label began to swirl, and change.
“Tuck in.” now appeared on the carefully scripted label.
Below that, in smaller script was one word - “Chocolate.”
“Well then,” said Mr. Peterson, “That’s better. Don’t mind if I do.”
He popped off the lid, and a cocoa dust devil swirled right up out of the jar! The force of it tugged at him, and folded him flat into a man-kite made of origami! He couldn’t resist it the force of it, and eventually allowed himself to be tucked right in to the jar itself - the jar that somehow was a door!
“Well, this might be problematic” he thought, while finally having the opportunity to smell the back of his kneecaps. “I should wash back here more consistently.”
The ground thundered.
A giant scaled hand picked up the jar.
Low rumblings were heard, with what sounded like a pleased tone. A giant lizard-esque eye peered in, distorted further through the curved glass jar.
The eye blinked once, twice, and Mr. Petersen found himself weightless, dropping through the air and into darkness. A rhythmic swaying indicated he had been placed into a satchel or pocket and was now being carried to another location.
While many men in such a predicament would have fallen to pieces, Mr. Petersen did not panic. There was simply no space to do so.
Waking one blue dawn in a foggy daze, Petersen glanced at the new creature enjoying the luxuries of his garage. Rare, beautiful, powerful; a shiver of 150 mph lust crept up his spine.
Just … one more time sweetheart … before the CHiPs come out this morning.
