Written by Ye Olde Scribe
Bill and Hillary Clinton’s good friend Kevin Spacey was getting old. We all are. But Scribe means REALLY old. In Hollywood terms: old hat. Out of style. Scribe would type it’s like having the pox, but since his last movie was sponsored by the makers of Special K, maybe a K-POX? It works because it was the sequel to a Spacey movie where a certain race of aliens die off due to The K-Pax-Pox.
Having collected a giant fortune from his latter life enterprises “Kevin’s Heavenly Dog Treats” and “Spacey’s Edible Lacey Underwear,” he decided to take his earlier, more known, career fortunes too… and spend his last years in space. He bought the latest tech from a confused Native American scientist, Back to the Future fan and dairy owner named Doc. Hownow BROWNCOW: a More Warped than Normal Drive spaceship.
Unfortunately, warping out of the solar system at the speed of stupidity, faster than Mel Brookian Ludicrous speed, he rapidly found himself dangerously close to a disgustingly dishonest black hole named Condi. As everyone knows if you get sucked into a black hole you die, unless of course it’s a Clintonian black hole then you just get a bad STARR report.
Seeing the black hole he put on his space suit and headed for the “ejaculation” lever. The Doc had thought that was a funny label for an ejection-based emergency escape system that might have enough power to blast you off and away from something as treacherous as a black hole.
That’s when Kevin’s ghost showed up, also in a space suit.
“But wait, I’m not dead yet!”
Since they were on the edge of the black hole time was little different and this was future Kevin showing up. In the short term future, Kevin was dead. Hence the all too still living Kevin was face to face: being haunted by his own ghost. But all the ghost would say is, “BOO!!!”
Kevin said, “Hey, asshole, I was an actor for years, certainly you can do better than that.”
Kevin’s ghost smirked and said, “Hey, I’ve seen your attempts at ‘comedy’ in bowling alleys before you were an actor. No, you can’t.”
“Damn,” live Kevin said, “That’s what I get for arguing with myself. Wait. Wait. You’re not telling me something. That’s a Clintonian black hole. I died because I didn’t go into the hole. I ‘ejaculated’ too early.”
Kevin took his hand off the ejaculation switch and his ghost smiled. His final words were, “About time you got your comedic timing riiiiiiiiiiiigggggggghhhhtt. ….” and faded away.
Kevin took his ship into the Clintonian black hole, ignored the stupid bad Starr report, and became known as a super hero in the rest of the known universe due to his newly found comedic super powers, making villains laugh themselves into doing good deeds instead of bad.
Now wasn’t that a nice story?
What, you were expecting something more perverse?
Or maybe more…
Ye Olde Scribe
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[…] meant to be a joke. It's about Keving Spacey and the title with the link embedded in it is… A Rather Spacey Story: Death by Premature Ejaculation Ken's weekly column… […]
I object! I do not have a column called Premature Ejaculation, although some of my former girlfriends… never mind.