The Munsters Marathon

by Mike Rogers[1]

I woke up this morning on my couch with the “Munster’s Marathon” still playing on my television set.[2] After a few moments I was able to remember who I was[3] and why I chose to sleep on the couch last night, with the assistance of the “TV Land” sleep aide.[4] Last night was the highest of gay holy days.[5] Otherwise known as Halloween.[6] I am asking myself, “What happened to my big plans for this grand holiday?"[7]

Retracing my steps,[8] I realize that last night I had an acute attack of agitated depression.[9] I couldn’t decide where to go or what to wear.[10] The more that I obsessed about it, the stronger was my immobilization.[11] So the best that I could do was to lie in front of the TV screen. Unacceptable for the gay church, I am quite sure.[12]

Months ago I imagined myself dressed up as a picnic on Halloween.[13] I have had the idea for years, and I truly thought that this would finally be the year that I fulfill that desire.[14] I bought a plastic, red and white-checkered tablecloth from the dollar store.[15] I had every intention of using it to cover a large piece of cardboard[16] then I would glue to it, paper plates, hot dogs, buns, and all of the necessary condiments.[17] I was well prepared to answer people’s questions of what I was supposed to be. “I’m a picnic!”[18] I would obnoxiously reply.[19] I could hear the imagined laughter of all within earshot.[20] I could also hear their comments. “Wow, look at him! He’s a fucking picnic. How clever.”[21] But I guess sometimes I put too much on my plate.[22] For trying to be a picnic this year, seemed as huge as planning a family reunion for the family of man.[23]

Another aspect of my desire to stay home was the thought of running in to my x-boyfriend, the ACTOR![24] Chicago is a small town for the gay community. The possibility of bumping in to him always exists.[25] He is full of himself,[26] and would love nothing more than to introduce me to his new boyfriend.[27] The thought of his getting off on that experience is enough to keep me home, not just on Halloween, but for the rest of my days.[28] I imagined my x in his competition mode.[29] I could see him laughing hysterically, with his theatre entourage, at something unworthy of a chuckle.[30] This display would only further my agitated depression.[31]

So I guess staying home last night was the right thing for me to do. I may have missed the glitter and glamour of Halloween 2000,[32] but I might have gained something of great value.[33] A good night’s sleep perhaps.[34] Or maybe an hour of saving the daylight.[35] Who knows? Hey, I have an idea![36] Maybe I could be a picnic next year.[37] Now where did I put that tablecloth?

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[1] Author’s Note: This piece originally appeared in the final issue of the Chicago rag “gab.” I wrote it as an experiment while struggling to find a persona to use in my stand-up comedy. Little did I know that the people at “gab” would take it seriously. I must say though, I do laugh my ass off every time I read their sassy remarks. Enjoy!
[2] Fabulous lead in for a personal ad!
[3] We…haven’t.
[4] (Forced titter)
[5] …t’was?
[6] Oh, the circuit party?!
[7] Oh, so are we, so are we!
[8] Haven’t we been over this already?
[9] We’re startin’ to feel it set in, too.
[10] Comfortable casual or the always elegant and seasonless black cocktail dress from the house of coco c.
[11] …w/no panties.
[12] …too bad, ya’da been the life of any party!
[13] Us too!
[14] Try alternate adjective here. One desires sex. One desires sex in a park or desires a sex-picnic in a park, but anyone with a desire to dress as a picnic is fucking nuts!
[15] …we know you did.
[16] …we know you did.
[17] (?) define: “condiments.”
[18] Practice, they say, makes perfect.
[19] “Hisssssss!”
[20] You should hear us over here!

[21] He said…sarcastically (?)
[22] …yet still snort up every last bit.
[23] Try going as a tap-dancing turd from tinsel town…with condiments!
[24] “…lights…camera…bitterness!”
[25] Suggestion: when venturing outside the house, the ‘incognito’ approach (disguised as…say…a picnic, for example) almost always works at avoiding any and all recognition.
[26] See…we’ve always said that opposites do not always attract.
[27] The potluck…?
[28] Promises, promises!
[29] Not another label queen!
[30] “Beg pardon, ACTOR, but pray not pivot thy head, for thee seemingly hath a distraught and possibly very unstable picnic stalking ye from yonder, whilst displaying an unusually rapid approach directly toward thee!”
[31] …oh, and if you’da seen his $4.95 all-you-can-eat Swedish smorgasbord costume, it could’ a pushed you right over!
[32] There’s always next weekend!
[33] Well yes…your first (?) published piece of pretty prose…and in gab!
[34] Well…when compared to your state while awake…
[35] Now that’s odd…we lost an hour over here in 60657land.
[36] No!!! stop!!! Get your head out of that oven! You still have plenty to live for! Think about it! besides, that oven’s electric.
[37] Kinda last-season, don’tcha think?