NOSEY BIO: Loud, brass, and tastelessly attired, I.B. Nosey is famed for his exuberant “Greetings, cybernuts! This is I.B. Nosey, your official unofficial reporter!” He seeks answers to the kind of probing questions no accredited journalist would deem intelligent, let alone newsworthy enough, to ask. Fleet of foot, wide of mouth, and fluent of tongue-in-cheek, I.B. Nosey’s unique interviewing style is comparable to none.

Winner of the Pukelitzer Award. Spokesman for Gum Drop Island’s confectionary plantation. Featured in InD’Tale magazine and The Woven Tale Press.


Wednesday, April 18, 2012

ZOOT SUIT SUITS ZOOTS!


(Greetings from Cyberspace!  This is Cyberbug 2, reporting live from the Airspace over Gum Drop Island.  Currently, I’ve plastered myself against the side of Gail’s chopper ‘cause crazy as that woman is, I swear she’s saner than GaGa DeBore and Y. Lee Persimmon!  And I don’t get paid enough for this gig, Bug 1’s gonna have to come up with some big bucks if he wants ME to back him up again!  Now, remember when last we left our collection of oddball heroes, Lionmother had just entered this total debacle and started   shooting rotten eggs and barking out orders for everybody to get their carcasses back to U. R. Honor’s chambers!  And I’m picking up vibes that something BIG’s about to pop, ‘cause Gail seems like she’s just about had enough—WHEREUPON THIS CYBER NARRATIVE IS INTERRUPTED BY GAIL’S SHOUT OF---)

Gail:  OKAY!!  I- HAVE-  HAD - ENOUGH!!!!!!  Time to engage cloaking device, grab Nosey, and get the heck outta Dodge!  MM, DROP THAT SHIELD on One!  I’m comin’ in to get Nosey! 

MM: Now this is the way I like to write scripts! Lights, camera, action! Let’s go!

Gail:  (Reaches under chopper dashboard)  Three, two, ONE!  (Chopper disappears)

Y. Lee Persimmon: (spins around) Where’d she go? How’d she do that. Darn that woman.

GaGa DeBore:  Alright, where’d she get that?!  Where’d she get that?!  I have to have one!  

YLP: Oh be quiet already. You always want what everyone else has. Good grief, lady, can’t you be content with what you’ve got.  (mumbles to herself) I swear. Some people are just never happy.

Felicity Funk: Oh, just great. She’s gone to get Nosey and we’re stuck here with these two kooks. 

Peachy Keen:  Not if I can help it. What we do is not illegal - they told me; What we do is good for all - they said; What is left just doesn't matter - they told me

As long as right wins over all - they said; You don't know what life's about -they told me… latralahlidahdi..

(Whispers from Cyberspace:  Cyberbug 1, this is Cyberbug 2!!  Come in, come in, Bug 1!!!!!  I’m in a vacuum!! Everything’s DISAPPEARED!!!!  We are SERIOUSLY re-negotiating my salary if I ever get out of here!!!!! Wait!!  We’re coming in through a skydome and we’re back here with MM and Nosey!!  And I have motion sickness and I think I’m gonna BARF!!!!)

Gail (throwing open door of chopper and alighting in the secret chopper pad dome of Gum Drop Island):  Okay.  Enough!!!!  (reaches up to hair line and grabs secret zipper, unzipping body suit, shedding it like a snakeskin).  This charade has gone on way too long! I’m tired of parading around in this zoot suit  and cleaning up everybody’s messes!  I am a SIZE SIX!!!! I weigh 125 pounds!!  I have hair like a lion’s mane (shakes out mane of golden brown hair past her shoulders) and it’s stuck up here under this short middle-age lady’s wig!!!  My IQ’s so high Mensa won’t take me and I’m listening to WiteNite here pretend he’s forgotten what he’s been recruited for!!!!  Enough!!!!!!



Tobe A. WiteNite: (reaches up to hairline…and he has a way to reach as his hairline has waaay receded) Where’s my zipper? Don’t I get a youthful physique too? M.M., is this discrimination against brilliant lawyers???

Gail:  Hey!  You hold it right there, Tobe!  You’re the front man, remember?  You’re the token pinhead of this investigation into this international phony chocolate ring trying to take over the candy market and wreck grocery stores everywhere!  What am I saying?!  Wreck 'em up with tasteless, inedible plastic tasting goop they pass off as legitimate GUM DROP ISLAND brand of deliciousness, I mean!  But the key words are – TOKEN! PINHEAD!!!

Nosey: Did you call?

MM: She said ‘pinhead’, which, on second thought… 

Gail:  Nosey, get in this chopper!  And stop staring at me like a hooked fish!  Jeezzzzz, just from my dang black 5 speed Mustang you shoulda known I wasn’t really a middle-aged frump!!!

Nosey: (lays palm to forehead) I think I’m getting a headache. Which part of the script do I read from? Are we on page 5,386, paragraph 113, section ZCT where you slip me into U.R. Honor’s courtroom--?

Gail:  NO, we’re not goin’ to see U. R. Honor!!!  At least, not right now! We’re goin’ to check in with Chocolate Central Bureau of Quality Control.  Now MOVE!!

(Whispers from Cyberspace:  Bug 1, Bug 1!  We’re moving out!  Where, oh, where, is Chocolate Central Bureau of Quality Control?!  Do I wanta know?  NO, I do not!!)

Gail (Climbing back into chopper seat and shaking lion’s mane of hair):  Boy, it feels good to be outta that zoot suit.  Too bad I’ll have to go back in it.  But at least not right now.  

Nosey: (feverishly flipping pages of script) What am I supposed to say next? I’m the hero on this blog! Where are my lines???

TAW: Somewhere over the rainbow, boy. They’re gone with the wind and lost in space.

Nosey: (stares at TAW) Wait a minute. Can we get sued for saying that?
 
TAW: Gail, you answer the question, or have the QC supply the info. By the way, do the top men there have any idea you’re a…well…dish?  

Gail:  Of course Chocolate Central knows what I really look like.  MM, open the dome!  Headed out!  Engaging Warp Drive!  We’ll be there in a flash, boys!  

(Whispers from Cyberspace:  Alright, readers, it’s one flash later and the  chopper’s touching down on an air pad in what looks to be the mid-west.  And I am so seriously air-sick it ain’t even funny.  And I don’t have a barf bag so I’d watch out, if I were you! Who’s that coming out of that hangar?  Is it?  Can it be?  Yes!  It is!  It’s Pat Dale!  Oh, jeezzz, and he’s got the Last Cowboy in Texas with him!)

Pat Dale:  Howdy, ladies. I hope your journey was pleasant. I’m sure it was not an easy thing to extricate yourself from your previous predicament.

Gail:  Thank you, sir.  No, this hasn’t been easy.  But I do think we’re beginning to flush out – what’s that noise?!?!

Pat:  You mean that caterwauling? That just ol’ Troy boy, stretching his vocal chords. He breaks out in song every time he sees a pretty girl. You want me to shut him up? I mean, after all, I do write his scripts.

The Last Cowboy in Texas:  Aw, come on, Pat. You know I’ve got this thing for women. And you know how they can’t resist me when I sing and dance for ‘em. (He turns to see that they’re getting antsy.)



(Whispers from Cyberspace:  Okay, this is getting out of hand.  Troy Boy’s singing’s let Gagga and Persimmy slip in undetected!  Look up there!  And there’s NO WAY Gagga and Persimmy shoulda been able to follow Gail’s chopper!  I mean, obviously, Gail’s chopper ain’t your standard chopper!  And now I know why, I mean, obviously, it’s a prototype of the highest eggbeater whirlybirds!  So how did Gagga and Persimmy get here right behind us unless – oh, dear!  Oh, no!  There must be a backstabber --and thus, not very nice person-- in the Science Development Department!  How else are those tracking us?! Not to mention catching us!)

Gagga (from overhead through a megaphone):  You there on the ground!  Hold it right there! Stop!

PK: How lahahdi can I help it if I think you're funny when you're mad tralhdidoodahding…hey, you talkin’a’ me?

FF: Is that Nosey? Does she have Nosey? Get out of my way. I want to see.

YLP: Quick, we have to get to Nosey. Hurry up, you dimwit. What do I pay you for?

O. G. Whattapayne:  (Covering eyes)  A partnership is not worth all this!!!  (Peeks through fingers)  Ohhh!!  Who’s the dude on the ground there?!  He’s cute!!

FF: He’s there. I know it. Nosey is there someplace. Oh be still my heart. 

PK: You should be so lucky luckluckluckylayhlah…

Pat:  Hi, girls. Glad you like what you see here. (pointing to himself)

Gail:  Hate to disappoint you, big boy, but I think they’re talkin’ about the Cowboy over there. 

Last Cowboy:  Yeah, how you like them apples, writer boy? (slaps his hands on his thighs and turns to Gail) Howdy, ma’am. My gawsh, you’re the purtiest little gal I ever seed, outside o’ Texas.

Gail:  ‘Preciate the compliment, son, but I’m old enough to be your mother.  I just don’t look like it.

Gagga (from up in the chopper):  Well, that explains it!  I don’t know what they did with Gail but they got a new character in the mix down there, looks like. Dang sure ain’t Gail, she’s almost more beautiful than I am!  Besides, there’s no way Gail could fly a chopper like that!

YLP:  What’s happening with this thing? We’re going down. Good grief, don’t tell me we’re out of gas.

OGW:  Out of gas!!!  We can’t be out of gas!!  Get this thing down!!!

PK: All gas and gaiters. All cry and little wool. All in a day’s work. All’s well that begins bad…

FF: (looks out the window and yells) Nosey! Can you hear me? Nosey, are you there?

Gail (Pointing up to the choppers): Those two – uh, four, no, five gals – are seriously gettin’ on my last nerve, Big Boss.  Can we do something ‘bout ‘em, you think?

Pat:  I’ve got an idea. Why don’t I write a script that’ll have Cowboy distract those, uh, ladies, while you and I make tracks for a Gum Drop Island cup of fresh grown hot cocoa?

Last Cowboy:  Not so fast, writer boy. You still haven’t apologized for naming me the last cowboy instead of the best cowboy like you promised. Anyhoo, with your writin’ skill and my ridin’ skill, we can round up them scalawags like corralin’ doggies on the range. I ain’t a cowboy for nothin’!

Gail:  Lord.  I need support troops and I’m gettin’ flattered by a romance writer and his hero!  (Shrugs.)  Well, it’s hard to be humble when you’re gorgeous in every way --and modest to boot too.  (Grabs for chain around her neck, extricates emergency whistle and blows loudly)  WHOOOO-EEEEEEEE, WHOOOOOO-EEEEEEEEE.  There.  If you need reinforcements, you just have to call for ‘em yourself!

(Whispers from Cyberspace:  Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!!  What now?!  Why are two dozen Rambos running out of those hangars? And what’s that red beam coming out of Gagga’s chopper?! Heeelllllpppppppp!!!!!!)

Nosey: (presses button on wristwatch) Found my part in the script. I know exactly what to do!

??????????????????????????????????????????????


To be continued…


Same Nosey Time, Same Nosey Channel!
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Thanks to Pat Dale for guesting with I.B. Nosey! If you'd like your moment of fame in the Maniacal Madness world of that 'official unofficial' reporter, sign up! Instructions are listed on the left hand side of this blog. 

6 comments:

gail roughton branan said...

I think we need to get Peachy Keen and Felicity Funk an appointment with the eye doctor! They're still raving about Nosey with The Last Cowboy in Texas standing there! SERIOUSLY? Something's WRONG with those girls!

Pat Dale said...

Mesmerized by his gorgeous looks, I tell you. Darn hero can't stay on the written page for beans with women hanging around him. Probably wants his own sequel. Well, I have an idea on that. How about I write the 'Dead Cowboy in Texas'? That'll fix him.
Ho Ho, Ha Ha, He He...

I.B. Nosey said...

Of course they're still raving about me! I am, after all (sheesh, how often do I gotta REMIND you), the HERO of this blog!

And no, it's not you Cowboy! Why don't you go riding off into the sunset already???

Roseanne Dowell said...

Pat, that's very unkind. What'd that cowboy ever do to you? Those girls ain't looking for good looking, they're Nosey's fans and fans remain loyal.

gail roughton branan said...

Nosey! You and Cowboy get out of the OK Corral there!

Christopher Hudson said...

Hey, Cyberbug 2 says he doesn't get paid enough for this gig ... he's getting paid??