A children’s book author was thrown off a flight when he began swearing about a delay, using the f-word.
“Uh-oh–Mr. Writer Man said a swear!”
You know, people think being the best-selling author of the Pokey Little Bunny™ series of children’s books is nothing but cream-filled cupcakes, but they’re wrong. There’s a lot of stress–I fly all over the country going to “story hours” in library basements where I have to somehow sit on a chair made for a five-year-old’s butt and read to all the little snot-nosed brats with their adorable upturned faces. You can hardly blame me if I order two gin ‘n tonics as soon as I plop down in my f**kin’ coach class seat that my CHEAPSKATE PUBLISHER won’t let me upgrade on a twenty-four hour turnaround to the coast.
“. . . and then the [bleepin’] bunny hopped over to Kitzi Witzi’s house for a quick one.”
[BLEEP] him! And [BLEEP] my [BLEEPIN’] agent too, for getting me to sign a five-book contract right before Pokey Little Bunny hit it big, making The New York Times Top Ten Treacly Kids Book List–with no royalties! Yes I was advised by counsel, my brother-in-law the unemployed lawyer–[BLEEP] him too!
“You kick my seat again, I’m going to stuff Pokey Little Bunny™ down your [BLEEPIN’] throat!”
At least I’ve got my groupie–little 12-year-old Amanda Cynthia Henderson, who’s been a fan of mine since she mastered “See Spot run!” I mean, there’s nothing wrong with that, is there? Salman Rushdie didn’t attract any babes until they pronounced a fatwa on him. Me–I went about it totally legal–adopted Amanda and everything, just like rock star Steven Tyler did when he wanted to date a toddler–I mean a teen. She’s so precious!
Worth a fatwa. Or two.
I help her put her tray down so she can snort a couple lines of Lik-m-Aid before take-off. It helps calm her down–that and the Pokey Little Bunny™ of course!
Goddamn it to hell, Amanda! What did you [BLEEPIN’] have to sneeze for! Now I’ve got pink and purple snot all over the Brooks Brothers cable knit cardigan sweater I so deliberately picked out in order to look informal and casual–it helps give me that Mr. Rogers vibe that drives kids wild.
What the well-dressed young children’s book author is wearing.
Where’s the stewardess. Where is the [BLEEPIN’] STEWARDESS? Oh, right, Amanda–ring the little bell and she’ll come. Okay–here we go.
Excuse me–excuse me? EXCUSE ME–HEY! Who do I have to screw to get my [BLEEPIN’] gin and tonics like I asked for? You heard me–I said who do I have to . . .
Hey–no fair! You Transportation Security Guards are supposed to wear uniforms or something, aren’t you? Let go of me! You’re not . . . you wouldn’t . . . you’re not gonna–
Please–NOT an atomic wedgie!