The Adventures of Coolie Coolstein: Episode 92
April 30, 2017
Coolstein is making a rare public appearance. I’m sure you have all been wondering where the cool one was – lo these many rotations of the sun. His fame (due in no small part to the incredible word of mouth that you, dear readers, have created) became first a giggle, then a source of pride, then quickly turned into a weighty burden. The simple lad had to retreat. He was so advised by the ever-trustworthy and wise Brownstein. When that wizard speaks, Coolie listens.
Where has he been? Hither and Yon. Those are – for the uninitiated and geographically challenged – twin cities in the wilds of New Jersey, which is now a planetoid that occupies the once-Plutonian lane around the sun (sad, so sad about Pluto). Okay. Enough background.
Our boy is back in the known universe. He stopped in to see Sylvia and Morris, his human parental units. They were having one of their world class fights; when they get going, no crockery is safe nor are any breakable human parts such as heads or knees. Brownstein, who was running interference in a sub-visible format, tackled Coolie with a wave of one of her beautiful paws, and he was instantly surrounded by a protective energy field.
“Thanks, B,” Coolie said, giving one of his world-class grins. “That was a close one.”
Before the next thing could happen, Mr. C heard the unmistakable sound of silliness: “Eee – yowsa! The jellyfish are running and I’m hot to trot.” It was Coolie’s best friend, whathisname, whose name had slipped off one of the steep edges of Coolstein’s mind. “Is that you?” he cleverly sidestepped.
“Wait!” came the reply. “Am I ‘you’? I don’t think so. I used to be ‘me’ but you know how fast things can change, so maybe I’ve been re-named. Oh, my smart friend, double C – tell me who I am.”
…an aside: Nothing is ever simple and seldom becomes clear when Mickey Mental (that’s his name) is involved. It’s classic enmurkment, which is just hunky-dory with the two amigos.
“Let’s go to the beach – I need a sandwich (is there),” yukked Coolie.
“Yes, indeedy,” said Mickey. “You can have your sand, but my brain cells are craving those jellyfish.”
It has been famously said that “if you build it they will come.” What has not been said until now is “if you think real hard, you will apparate to the site of your hearts desire.”
And so, a little more quickly than likety-split, the boys were at the shore. It looked suspiciously like Fire Island, but it was actually a doppelganger on Yon. Interstellar travel was no big thing for Coolie, whose parents – you might recall – were Mothership, the truly awesome entity who composed Coolie out of random bits of matter, and DaddythebigDaddywhoseyourDaddy, a being who occupied so much time and space, we just can’t conceive of it with our earthly minds. The “creation” (we don’t really know what word to use, but this human concept will have to do) of the known universe was just a fun project he took on about 7 heptzillion eons ago. Everthing (in its literal sense) was his oyster and occasionally a bagel with a shmear.
The beach was rife with jellies and the Mickster ate his fill. As usual, this caused a veritable transubstantiation: His eyes shone with his newly imbibed brilliance. His powers were (at this precise moment in time) on a par with many renowned geniuses: the human Einstein; the martian Oilventinae; the pupkenik Squimendrafoop (from a small planet circling a star in a galaxy far, far away); and – never to be omitted from the list of all-time great minds – Regis Philbin, that pretender to the throne of the boring and the listless, but who is/was/can be, in reality (or what we could possibly think of as the innards of something that would one day achieve a smidgen of life as we know it), the great gadfly of Tintinitus 3 – home of the ancient ones who slapped some clay together one day and decided to make a couple of peepuls (the spelling has evolved over the eons).
“I blaze with clarity,” said Mickey. “No,” said Coolie – who was never that impressed with the grandiosity of the jellyfish-filled Mr. Mental – “I think you’re actually on fire.”
Sure enough, the energy that the jellyfish had deposited into Mickey’s formerly empty brain had crackled into flammability. His hair was burning brightly with turquoise and purple flames.
“I disavow and denounce this inflammatory state of being,” Mickey declared, more than a bit pompously. “You will cease and desist forthwith.” His powers were such and his command of the forces (both weak and strong) of the universe, that the fire dared not continue to burn.
Watching his friend consume all those jellyfish had made Coolie a bit peckish. “Can you rustle up some gefiltefish, oh pal o’mine?”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” answered Mickey, while simultaneously plucking some well- formed gefiltes from the ocean. They were replete with horseradish, and Coolie wolfed them down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he had been taught by Morris.
“Now that my belly is full, my thoughts are turning to the lovely Blue. It seems like ages since I seen her.”
The effects of the jellyfish were wearing off a bit (they were not the long lasting, extra-strength kind), so Mickey looked blank for a moment. Then, his now-slowing synapses made the necessary connections and the light of realization once again shone in his eyes. “I just saw her at the sock hop on Saturn last Saturday. She was looking stellar and stunning and stupendous.”
Now Coolie started to stutter and perspire a little: “Dddddd-did she mention me? Did she wonder where I was?” Coolie was in such a vulnerable state that only a true friend would refrain from torturing him at that moment. Mickey was such a one.
“Well, as I recall she said, ‘Hey and hiya Mick. Where’s the coolest boy in the room?’ To which I answered, ‘I dunno. But if I see him I’ll say hey for ya.’”
“Thanks, my bestie.” Now, the boys were basically talked out. Their conversation took a lot out of them and they needed a bit of recovery time. So……TBC
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