Ted Plank Redux III; Ted turns 40

I sat next to Ted at a Thai restaurant. He was drinking Franziskaners and I was drinking Thai iced teas, one of us going down, the other going up, giggling the whole fucking time. Ted is always such a fun ride, substances or no. We had just gone to see Julien's new musical, The Beastly Bombing, a tremendously clever operetta about two Islamic terrorists and two white supremacists who show up at the Brooklyn bridge at the same time to bomb it, fail, get hauled off to jail with the president's twin drug-addicted daughters, drop extasy, fall in love with each other and are married by a Catholic priest who's been brought in for pederasty. We were now at a sort of makeshift cast party enjoying spicy salads and Ted's poop humor.

"So that was purty funny..." [he's doing that head tilt/elbow thing] "...how the president slammed your head into his crotch while he was singing about loving really hot gay porn."

"Yeah, that was cool, eh? How many people can say the president fucked their face?"

"Lots!"

There is a Christian sitting next to us. It's freaking me out. I mean, she is a lovely girl and a good sport, a Rockette or something who is dating a friend of one of my friends, and I didn't know she was a Christian when I sat down next to her, offered my hand like a right bulldyke and said, "Wow, you're gorgeous," followed by "I loved that scene when the president and Jesus did that homoerotic pas de deux. Wasn't that great?...[no answer]...heh heh...[still no answer]...Um, yeah. So wasn't it super funny when the president tweaked Jesus' nipples and Jesus licked his hand?"

Later, when she went to the bathroom, her boyfriend leaned in and said, "Don't mind her, she's Christian," like it was a handicap. I turned to Ted, elbowed him in the ribs and whispered, "She's a Christian," in a more zoo-like way, like, holy shit there's a bonafide, exotic beast sitting at our table.

"Ewww, get her away!"

"Ha ha ha! Ted, aren't you glad you've nabbed yourself a nice secular girl?"

"I suh-ppose," Ted says, feigning annoyance and forking glass noodles into his maw.

Ted's 40th birthday party had taken place a few weeks earlier. I was excited to go, for I hadn't seen Ted in ages. Too much time had passed since I got to hear his off-beat brand of humor, and I was really beginning to wonder what he was up to. Did he ship the Nazi car over here, and if so, did he put swastikas on the side of it? Did he outfit the motor so that he could strain and use Kentucky Fried Chicken oil as fuel? Did he then go pick up black girls?

I kept asking around, "Where's Ted, and what's he up to?" Some people didn't know because they hadn't seem him either, but TheProducer and Julien informed me that Ted had sort of been laying low and doing romantic stuff with his girlfriend, Sue, lovely maker of fetishwear and most patient woman alive. It wasn't nearly as fun as my image of what Ted had been doing, ducking bullets in his KFC Nazi car, but it was cute and plucky and sweet, so I said, "Awwww."

The party was at Sue's apartment in Los Feliz. It was a pasta party, carbs are back baby, with three different kinds of homemade sauce and all sorts of other delicacies. Sue had been cooking for days to prepare, and while the food was delicious and comforting, the décor went in a different direction. It wasn't "comfort décor" at all. More like, "You like this yummy, warm food...this tasty food your momma used to make you? Huh? Huh? Die you Zionist pig!" That's right. The decorations were all Axis power related. There were fascist flags, and Hinomaru flags, guns, and artifacts placed here and there, but the most important decoration hung proudly over the fireplace: a big, fat Nazi flag. My Jewish friend took twenty pictures of me making faces in front of it because I have "the baby face" and then had me take a picture of her smooching her husband with the swastika between them. It will make such a nice Hanukah card.

When it came time to present Ted with his cake, Sue put 40 candles into the frosting, lit them and had everyone sing. Ted looked pretty nervous as he blew them out. I had never really seen Ted nervous before, so at the time I noticed it, I assume he had to take a shit, that it was a poop related ailment. We clapped the blowing of the candles, and watched as Ted took a deep breath, crooked his arms like a little cowboy, and said, "I'd like to thank all my friends for coming to this birthday party my woooonderful girlfriend threw for me. I'm glad you're all here, because I wanted you to see me ask Sue if she'll marry me."

Ted held an arm out inviting Sue over to him. She put her hands to her face, which was as red as the Nazi flag behind the two of them, and nestled into his chest. If you didn't look at the swastika behind them, it was so totally romantic. That is, until Ted talked some more.

"You know, I'm gettin' old. And I could probably experiment for a few more years, maybe finally get a black girl or two, or some of these sexy chicks at my party, but I think what I've got is a good thing. I should probably just give up and ask her to marry me. So whadduya say, hon? Will you marry me? What if I got you a better, forty dollar ring tomorrow?"

"You're such an ass."

Flash bulbs ignited. There wasn't a dry eye in the room--due to laughter more than abstract romance--and when Ted and Sue posed for their engagement pictures in front of the Nazi flag, The Producer and I agreed it was the best proposal ever. They took a few pics with their tongues hanging out, and then some with their faces scrunched up in sadistic grins. Ted said, "Okay, now let's take a serious one," and had the photographer shoot a pic of him choking Sue.

Hordes of people came up to congratulate them. When it was my turn, I hugged Sue, and turned to Ted who held me and informed me I was on his fuck to-do list.

"Why Ted, I'm honored. Maybe in another lifetime."

And with the arms up and the head tilt, and all the innocence he said, "Ohhh-kay. But if I have to wait a lifetime I get to put it in your butt."

I left the party not long after, and as I walked up the street to my car I clearly heard Ted say through the open windows of Sue's second floor bungalo, "Everybody feels sorry for Sue. Sue, your life is over. Poor Sue." It was all in jest of course, as everything is with Mr. Plank, but I happen to think Sue is a lucky lady, because she gets to laugh so hard and so often for the rest of her days.

Pray I make the wedding invite list. I'll snap a pic of them riding off to the honeymoon, waving to their friends and family while they whip away in a flurry of crepe paper, swastikas and Kentucky Fried Chicken oil.

Comments

Post a comment