The Killing Kompany Diaries

Yet again
The Killing Kompany found themselves back in New Jersey
last night

this time
for the benefit of the local YMCA Swim Team
and their coaches

who were hosting a fete
to raise moolah
for their local aquatically enhanced offspring
 
who

according to quelling parents in attendance
 
 
  had been invited
                                                               to something called:
                                                              "The NATIONALS!"
   
 "National what?"
                   was the question that kept popping into my
                  leathery gray matter?
                       

  I proceeded to spent the evening in a restaurant dining room
that had the appearance of a

                                          Mafia Designer's fantasy

                                                Mob joint
  portraying the character of: Purdy Spackler   Minister of The First Church of Leather  

For the pseudo wedding
that
Jon had come up with as a theme
  I began the ceremony written especially for the evening as follows:

"Dearly Bewildered, we are gathered here to hitch this babe to this dude..."
 
             Note: Immediately following the wedding
             an assignation attempt was made upon the life of the groom
             by a delivery person wearing a "UPMS" tee shirt.

 
Though I was dressed in my thug finest
for the entire evening
no one guessed I was one of the assassin / killers?

                                                                Less is more I suppose.

My personal highlight of the evening
was my interesting interpretation
of the dance that accompanies
the song: "Y.M.C.A."

which single handily has now been driven
to a new low in the realm of artistic expression. Unable to follow the frantic arm waving chorus
I proceeded to transform myself
 

into an calesthentically impaired
spastic
for my own amusement ... This in no way altered the flow of the other participants 

as they waved their body parts about attempting to emulate a naval signal officer who had digested eleven hot red peppers.   Note: This particular song was BANNED  at my own wedding!

Unlike my last visit to New Jersey to perform
I successfully:

1 - avoided striking my head on the door jamb
     when I was killed off.

2 - remained aware of the fact that
    a marble floor
        {tuck and roll notwithstanding}
     is a bad place to choose to die.

    Rather
    I spun around gracefully
    having acquired the appropriate number of pistol shots
    from the detective / hero

    and fired one more salvo of my own into the ceiling
    before

    collapsing head first into
    the crotch of the female swim coach.
   

    So the play ends
    with moi
    upon my knees

    one arm draped over the table
        -and my hand in her desert-
    the other arm
    draped over the back of her chair

    upon my knees

    with my head squarely planted in her private parts

    making it impossible for her to remove herself
    from the final tableau

   to the accompanying sounds of laughter and great applauding...
 
      I heard this

    in a muffled manner
    from my own position...

    but understandably

    since my butt was facing the entire crowd
 
      I could not see their faces...

    Good Theatre Training prevails
    again.
 
      END OF PLAY
 

As the cast was introduced at the end of the play
I made a point of having myself credited
as an instructor of Drama at Adelphi University...

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