Once Upon A Friday

Friday laughed. It wasn't a giggle or a chortle, it was a loud boisterous laugh, and we all know that someone's laughter is about as self-identifying as fingerprints. People can "fake" a laugh, like when they're called upon to emote about something that is supposed to be funny, but it really isn't. Yet, no impersonator on the planet takes the time to fake another person's laugh, and actually use it as their own, because they already have their own. Funny stuff usually takes place in an instant, and in that instant, if it really is funny, their own personal vocal reaction to the stimuli known as "funny," occurs.

But when you hear Friday's laugh, it makes you want to laugh too. You don't even think about being clued into the joke, it's just that infectious! Besides, it's a booming laugh that carries right through anything nearby. Hell, it's Friday, and if he's laughing, the fjucking rocks want to laugh with him!

"As if!" Was what the partygoers heard from Friday exclaim beyond the range of the conversation, and between massive laughs.

*The camera zooms in towards a small group gathered around the King of All Weekdays, and catches a smaller mortal looking up to Friday, with amusement of telling the tale that is more successful than he believed it would be.*

"No seriously!" The small man said, seizing his chance..."Then I passed the go-cart that was in the lead with a sneaky pass on the inside, and I was in the clear! Just one final lap, holding off the pack, and I would win the race!"

"Unbelievable!" Said Friday, grabbing a cocktail off a passing waiter's tray, still lost in the amusement of whatever had come before.

"Quite!" Said the small man, "Yet, even the unsportsmanlike tossing of a live lobster onto the go-cart track is not what cost me the race!" The speaker was well aware of the power of his last statement, and decided at that moment to take a long, thirst quenching pull off his beverage, that drained the rest of the glass. He looked around, and snaked his arm though the gathered crowd and placed it on a small end-table holding a Tiffany lamp. He made the motion of miming a steering wheel, and spoke with expressive agitation!

"For in striking the crustacean with my right wheel, I was literally thrown - nay - launched into the air! And I'm sure you're all aware of the slowing of time that occurs in such instances, and I can tell you now, from what I felt of the physics of what had transpired, I assure you after two revolutions in the air, I was actually about to land on four wheels and still be in control of first place!" He made a motion of moving the steering wheel to recover from such an event. "I agree, I may not have been able to control the vehicle after such a landing, but I will never know."

"What do you mean!" Expressed Friday, "You will never know! How does this preposterous story end?!?"

The small man took his hands down from the driving a fast go-cart mime he was creating, and straightened his tie. He looked up at Friday with a wry look and said moving his right index finger in a spinning motion,

"Well, as my vehicle was about to make it's second revolution, bringing me down to the track, a brown pelican, blundered straight into the roll-cage of my flying conveyance, and struck my helmet! Knocking me unconscious in an explosion of feathers!"

"A Pelican!" Laughed Friday. "A Pelican!? My god man, what did you do next!"

The small man had somehow acquired another cocktail, and he lifted a pinkie as he coolly had a sip.

"What did I do next? I woke to find myself completely addled, and upside down in the roll-cage of a go-cart, covered in pelican blood and feathers! Men were busy trying to free me from the seatbelts, and a few moments later I was being examined and questioned by a most lovely woman who was a nurse at the local hospital, who was there to watch her husband in the next race!"

Friday laughed again, showing off his moviestar teeth.
"Well, at least there was a happy ending!"

"Happy!" The small man exclaimed decisively to the negative. "I was too confused from the crash to drive myself home, and my clothes were covered in blood and feathers!"

"So how did you get home?" Asked Friday.

"I walked! Have you ever tried hailing a cab in a bloody chicken suit?" He had another drink of his cocktail, and spoke clearly and slowly. "It. Doesn't. Work."


Happy Friday!