Larry Bird Episode 4 – Meet Bill from Alma Park!

The Unofficial Death of Larry Bird
Episode 4. The Art of Comedy – written by Noel Anderson
RECAP: END OF EPISODE THREE
Larry didn’t know it then, but he was not going to dream again for a very long time. The next time he did Little George would be waiting for him, with a scroll, words written in pigeon blood.
LARRY BIRD CONTINUES…
Alma Park was quiet when Bill arrived with his companion. They’d been coming there for sometime now, Bill usually stretched a bit then went for a run. Bill had stumbled upon Felicity on that day, the day he did three laps of the oval, the day he’d stopped to leak under a gum tree near the railway tracks.
Bill liked pissing out open for people to see. It made him feel rebellious and almost human. He remembered Felicity pretended not to notice him urinating and he decided, when they connected later that day, not to mention it either. Bill had never really had a girlfriend before….before he met Felicity. His companion, Frank (a mean old codger) never let him out of sight long enough to find one, even in Alma Park. It was damn annoying, Bill thought, to always be at someone’s beck and call… But that day, months ago, the day that old Frank had dozed off for the first time ever, Bill was able to strike up his third eye and connect.  At first Felicity didn’t want to fuse and blocked Bill’s vibrations but with a little mental probing from Bill, she eventually gave way…and they merged, weak but united.
“Let me in.” Bill whispered shaking his tail.
“No. Stay where you are” Felicity had said.
“Let me in E…Eli…Elicity.” Bill continued, almost begging, his nose wet.
The connection was bad, but clearing…
“How did you know my name Frank?” Felicity asked.
“How do you know…my….mine” Bill growled back.
“I don’t know…I just do. A woman never questions these things”
“I see. Well, how do I say this… ?”
“Say what?” she beckoned without once moving her lips.
Okay. I’ll give it to her straight, Bill thought…
He’s goanna give it to me straight I bet, what a bloody wanker, felicity thought…
“By the way…for your information” he corrected sharply. “I’m not Frank. Just letting you know. That’s not my name.”
“Well, B.T.W for your info…my name is actually Felicity, not Elicity. Your connection is weak. In fact it’s fucked. Goodbye Bill. Don’t ring me again okay.” Felicity quipped and immediately blanked him out. A bell rang out in Bill’s inner ear when Felicity blocked him…ding-a-ling it went…then Bill heard…”have a good day!” The connection went stone-dead. The connection was only brief but Bill had grown to trust his inner eye and felt he could also trust Felicity. The connection was deeper than Bill thought possible with a human too. He had barked when they connected and vibrated, while Felicity shook uncontrollably and blushed bright pink! An image had appeared in both their inner minds. What was it they saw? Something odd? Something about dead birds. And, there was a note too!  It was no use trying to bring it back, Bill thought, and rolled onto his back…once the connection goes, it’s gone…until the next time.
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‘The park was empty today’…that thought came from somewhere at the back of Frank’s skull.
‘Where was Felicity’…Bill wondered?
Frank pulled a small checkered blanket out of his backpack and placed it on top of the dry summer grass, feeling around the edges, he flattened the corners with his fingers. Next, Frank took a silver flask of black sweetened green tea from the pack and sat squarely on the blanket. He sipped the tea seeing nothing but hearing every little sound in the surrounding parkland. Frank had exceptional hearing for an old fella. Frank unleashed Bill and let him run free. Alma Park was more often than not full of couples walking their beasts (as Bill liked to refer to any animal walking with their master)… today however was different. Today there was next to no beasts frolicking in the park. There were also hardly any people. And, there was certainly no Felicity.
Frank put aside his cane and took out some sunscreen lotion. He sat rubbing the lotion deep into his burnt skin.
“Bill! Listen up boy” Frank shouted as the lotion melted into the cracks on Frank’s face.
“Bill don’t you stray too far from me, you hear boy?” Bill heard Frank alright as clear as a bell, but decided to ignore him.
“Shut the fuck up Frank, you silly old fart!” Bill barked back wagging his tail, running off towards the playground.
Bill knew there wasn’t much Frank could do without him anyway. Frank was as blind as a bat!
“I wish you’d start behaving like a bloody Labrador Retriever” Frank shouted at Bill, “And stop thinking your some fancy Spotted Dalmatian?
“Never Frank, you silly old bastard…I’ll never be happy as a Retriever, your servant, never!” Bill barked back.
Now where, in God’s name was Felicity?
ACROSS MELBOURNE THAT NIGHT…
Miriam sat stuffing handfulls of popcorn into her mouth, fidgeting and watching a repeats of Jail Birds on TV. She thoughts a lot that night, dirty thoughts, rooting thoughts, about Larry Bird…And, two of the other waiters at Ms Jackson’s that she fancied like hell. Miriam thought so hard, she finished all the popcorn in 10 seconds flat and sat masturbating on the lounge and feeling hungry.
In Carlton, Rodger was kneeling on his bed, ear to the wall, listening to his ex-partner, Abigail, moaning through a three-way in the next room. Rodger said the Lord’s Prayer softly to himself and prayed Abigail didn’t take too long to cum…he knew from experience she could take hours. Besides, he had footy training first thing in he morning and wanted to wake up feeling fresh!
In her South Melbourne flat, Cherrie Bomb had a bright idea! “Maybe I’ll make Donald a nice roast, and dress up as a Party Hostess like I use too when we first met.” Why hadn’t she thought of it earlier? She’d wear her brand new Miley Cyrus pink lipstick she picked up at Big W…and, after the pork roast, do a bit of twerking, maybe twerk to Susie Quatro’s Devil Gate Drive. Cherrie loved that song. And, Donald will love it too! Probably wet his pants…she hoped!
So, Cherri Bomb said goodbye to Jail Birds, switching off the TV and dashed to the shower.
Rule number 1 of twerking: Always have a clean vagina…just in case there was some action!
Jackie stepped defiantly out of the bottle shop on the corner of Sydney Road and William Street, holding a bottle of Moet wrapped tightly in a brown paper bag. She was in the mood for celebration…she got the job at Vampires Theatre Restaurant and could finally give the Edinburgh the flick. She sat on the edge of the gutter, popped the cork and took a long swig. Moet had never tasted soooo…good!
Back in Carlton, Rodger had given up waiting for Abigail to cum…if she couldn’t then he could, and did…
“Wow that was smooth” he thought. Now, with that out of the way, Rodger drifted off into a deep sleep.
Alone in his flat in St Kilda, Larry slipped on his glasses, fired up his Samsung laptop and opened the file marked…
THE ART OF COMEDY by Larry Bird.
Jesus, Larry you haven’t looked at this file in over…I don’t know… ten years, or was it longer…he thought. Larry couldn’t remember, too many parties in the 90’s…or was it the 80’s. He flicked through his writing, man what a lot of shit…he thought, but was any of it good?
Larry hadn’t given comedy a thought since…well, since that day, the day in the park. But, something inside him was saying that Melbourne was ready for his return to stage and the comedy circuit.
Larry still had the dream, buried under all the booze and drugs of his youth, to be Australia’s King of Fuckin’ Comedy… and kick Graham Kennedy off the fuckin’ throne.
“Fark” Larry said to himself, no one heard him…the dreams still bloody there! After all this fuckin’ time!
Larry knew the time was right, the moment was now…this time Larry, he corrected himself in his mind, Larry J Bird…don’t fuck everything up!
EPISODE 5. PREVIEW LINE
“Someone left a dead pigeon in the fuckin’ flat, and some comedian just died…literally. And, I’m not being funny.”
LIKE LARRY BIRD ON FACEBOOK
https://www.facebook.com/larrybird123

Andy Warhol’s Fifteen Minutes ofFrame: In the Raw 
Written & Directed by Noel Anderson
Jewish Museum of Australia
“An artist is somebody who produces things that people don’t need to have” – Andy Warhol
Continues on 9th, 16th May 2015
Bookings: http://www.trybooking.com/129490

Albert Einstein in a box?

Albert Einstein in a box?

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