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06-28-03, for DrSpin
If I'd Known You Were Coming...
Stop if you've heard this one...
A Birthday Troll and a Birthday Satyr walked into a bar...
Okay, so it wasn't just any bar. It was La Taverna. And the Troll was wearing one of those fake sets of glasses with the big plastic nose and mustache. He had to - his picture was posted behind the bar with the notation, “Do Not Serve - Notify Management.”
B.S. got a pitcher of whatever was on tap and a couple glasses. They took it to a booth, to continue the conversation they were having on the street.
“...an injunction?” the Satyr was saying, incredulous. “He actually got an injunction to keep the Nymph or the Sprite from announcing it?”
“That's the word from the home office,” the Troll confirmed, nodding redundantly. “Damned Aussie scribbler doesn't want 'is bleedin' birth date bandied about. All anyone knows is his birth sign, and even that might be misdirection.”
“That's... that's... that's un-American!” Birthday Satyr exclaimed.
Troll just stared at him with an expression that said “Well, DUH!”
“Oh. I suppose that makes sense. So what is it you expect me to do?”
“Well, you ain't in the business anymore, at least not officially,” the Troll explained. “There's no budget, no dancing girls, no special effects, no music, no nothing. But you can at least say it, and nobody can fire you.”
“What do I do for this zodiacal sign? Wish him happy crab cakes?”
“Nah. Can't even say 'happy birthday,' since you don't know the exact date. But ya gotta say something to mark the event. Be creative.” The Troll left.
The Birthday Satyr sat thinking. It could already have passed, unremarked, in the last week. Or it might still loom three or four weeks in the future. It might even be today. What are the appropriate words for that? He shrugged, then shouted out.
“Happy sometime in the vicinity of your birthday, DrSpin!”
