THE UNIVERSAL PREMIERE OF ZACKKOUNZ JAILTIME PARTY LINE (March 2017)
by Zack Kouns, Pony Payroll Bones, and Bryan Martin
ZK: I am in space jail where I belong.
PPB: I am your space. Space Jam. Yam Yam.
ZK: Please don’t become outer space to me ever again. I’m begging you on my hands and knees.
PPB: I am your knees. Yu are my hands.
ZK: I am finally being hailed off to kosmic jail where my hands are someone else’s and I finally got new knees: someone else’s. Kosmic jail is a lot better than time traveling Anfernee Hardaway of the Orlando Magic in 1994 who came back from safe future said it was gonna be.
BM: THE UNIVERSAL PREMIERE OF ZACKKOUNZ JAILTIME PARTY LINE
ZK: I dare anyone to televise my kosmic prison sentence. I am a private. End of story. I hear the mousse on Jupiter is grand and I will eat it solitary on Jupiter’s dust wings and I’d love to see you try and stop me to televise it.
BM: Matthew knows how to break into the International Space Station—thas about the best I got.
ZK: I belong in space jail with thousands of caves so I can eat stalactite undisturbed
BM: You sound like the New Breed, where’d you put the TV closet
PPB: I am the Space Children.
ZK: Jenny Moon Tucker stole my space socks and tried to cut both my feet off when I was in the bathtub and I said “Hey I need those” and I was talking about my space socks.
PPB: I am the money in your bank. Please buy Kouns UFO. I am the UFO. I ate the big red rooster who ate tha sun. I learned to sing squawking behind the cloud. Wanna flight. I am the goose who ganders.
ZK: Space jail isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I have lamped a Ludwig and pumped a putting groan all the live long Lipitor. Somebody CRAWL for me, I have been hunched in a space age caper for the ages, trying to smuggle sea water from the Baltic into the slippery tongues of Jupiter’s thirsty rungs and gee am I logjam clumsy and HogRam hologram frenzy. Rungs, lungs, tongues: we got it all here in space jail, you freaks need to “pony” up some space bail so I can be a free range, top of the line, Grade A piece of cradle of civilization.
PPB: Just talk to David Bowie he will straighten you out. I’m grade V and proud.
ZK: Always passing the buck, wish you would pass the hay, pass diddle do, pass the creature
comforts, pass the rock pass the boom box and pop on a little Space Age Fred and the Pissy Pants Astronauts because the only thing I’ve heard in a dog’s age is Love me or Leave me or Let me be lonely and that’s not doing the trick anymore, even if Ethel is a Mer Man.
PPB: Let’s be lonely together, Space Mancini
ZK: You are my space spaghetti with no meat balls or meat sauce or noodles or space.
PPB: Do you have enuff toilets? Where can we send a postcard? Huck’s prolly thinking the same thing altho we’re both gonna lie to your face about Thanksgiving this Flag Day: and pls don’t blame us, for it is in our lowland genes, it’s in that flash of the blade in the shallow rain, a derriere with no compare and do they still even bleach assholes beyond the “Outer Rim”??!?
ZK: Yeah, send it to Chicken Ass Lover and send it to your home address and I’ll be sure to check the wreckage.
PPB: Remember the band Space Hog?
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