In between thinking of ways to kill myself at work . . .

I started to wonder what a whole meal of food would be like in the company of the following: Michael Jackson, Henry Winkler, and Dennis Haysbert (that guy with the big hands (not positive that he has big hands, but I imagine that they are) from the Allstate Commercials). Now, I'm not particularly fond of any of these men. It's just that all three have become unavoidable in my life these days. Michael Jackson is absolutely insane and can't stay out of popular media. Allstate commercials are on all the time (I had a dream the other night where a dog mouthed to me "That's Allstate's stand!"), so Haysbert is getting ridiculous amounts of air-time. Finally, one of my friends (will call him GW) recently decided he wanted to start dressing like the Fonz and move a block away from my apartment. As a result, all three have collided in my head for one cosmic meal and some conversation. Here's how I think it would go:

One large man dressed in a fuscia robe would approach me as I casually sit at our table alone. He would of course be carrying Michael in his arms as Mr. Jackson (dressed in a one-piece playsuit) pets a child's plush toy and twirls a satin umbrella over his head. Once seated at the table his large/robed man would then begin to massage his cheeks (for the entirety of the meal). As a result, Mr. Jackson would offer nothing more than his presence (and the creepy greeting he gave me where he insisted on first smelling my hands and then watching me eat a shittake mushroom). Truly disappointing indeed.

Next, Mr. Winkler enters the room decked out in full Fonzie gear (leather jacket, gelled hair, black shoes, jeans, and a government ID card notifying the public that he is a registered sex offender). Throwing out his catch-phrase "EHHHHH," Winkler gets excited by Michael's outfit and begins to rub Jackson's forearms telling him what a strange little alien he is. As Michael begins to weep uncontrollably (he's used to his partners being younger and wearing more leather), the fuscia large robe guy picks up Winkler by his ear lobe and escorts him out of the room. In the end, Michael calms down, I find a stray dog under the table to be an adequate replacement, and everyone once again realizes how culturally insignificant/irrelevant the Fonz is at the present time (everyone except for GW of course who still attempts to emulate his hero through his odd fashion choices).

Finally, the guest of honor, Dennis Haysbert walks in. He takes one look at Michael, calls him a freaking goblin, and slaps Mr. Jackson across the mouth with both of his over-sized hands (the King of Pop wasn't in good hands with Mr. Haysbert). Michael's fuscia friend takes one step forward but gets blown out of the room when Dennis suddenly turns around and farts the Allstate jingle at perfect pitch from his rectum. With both problems set aside, he sits down at the table, orders a bottle of Disaronno and demands that I not make any eye contact with him whatsoever. In an even more bizarre move, he makes me sit in the booth next to him in case someone else shows up and needs a seat (which really doesn't make sense to me because we were the only people populating this random dream I was having and that stray dog I mentioned earlier was about as far of a stretch as I could make (unless Haysbert was actually the one controlling the dream (he could be God (does anyone know anything about religion (nonsense, what am I talking about))))). Strange, but I go along with it anyway. Haysbert then goes into a 15 minute rant about how much respect he had for the '86 Mets, and I start to feel more and more uncomfortable (though it had something to do with the fact that he was forching me to eat soft-boiled eggs out of his mega-hands). At one point in the meal, a basket of bread appears out of nowhere containing 8-10 rolls. Trying to pick up a piece of bread from the basket, Dennis accidentally grabs hold of the entire table, knocking all the food to the floor. Clearly embarrassed, he starts muttering under his breath about something called accident forgiveness while I try to make a run for the door. In the end, Haysbert doesn't notice as he begins to wrestle with the stray dog that suddenly reappears, and I make my escape from the dinner table.

In the end, I would have avoided inviting Moonwalker and the Fonz. Similarly, I would have probably not spent so much alone time with Mega-hands as he had a propensity for making feel insanely uncomfortable (and insecure about small my small hands) Given the chance to do it over again though, I would have invited Danny Bonaduce to neutralize Haysbert with his gravelly voice and unbridled insanity. Oh, and I would bring back that stray dog too (though it would be way more interesting if somehow the dog and Bonaduce combined into one mythical beast . . . like a Roc but with less grabbing of elephants)