Pure Slush

flash ... without the wank

Marc Summers Instigated the Bloods and Crips War so He Deserves Everything He Gets

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by David S. Atkinson


I’ve got Marc Summers imprisoned in the toilet of my upstairs bathroom. You remember, the host from Double Dare? Got a metal colander locked down over the bowl with a Krypton bicycle lock run through holes I drilled into the porcelain. It isn’t exactly a posh accommodation, but it’s not like he’s on a level with the Kardashians or anything.

He’s only Marc.

Sometimes I go and dump quicklime powder in there after flushing a bunch of times, burn terrible holes in his flesh while I pelt him with lima beans and pureed Hostess Twinkies. You might not think those would get through the holes in the colander real well, but I manage all right given the intensity of my motivation. His screams make me pretty resourceful. “Physical challenge, motherfucker!” I often yell.

The phrase isn’t exactly apropos, given that he isn’t supposed to be doing anything at the time other than suffering. Not even escaping, particularly after we sawed off his legs with a cheese grater during the competitive tackle bridge tournament I held for Sally Struthers and Ted Nugent.

No idea what’s wrong with those two.

I mean, for me it goes back to the show. I watched and watched, planning for the day I’d get on myself. I figured out all the traps, how to best get the flag on each section. There were always tricks if you could only see them, not get scrambled by the pressure of the show and the fact you were standing in a gigantic lemon meringue pie. Hell, I trained for that show. What did they think would happen when it went off the air?

Sure, it came back in other incarnations…but it wasn’t the same. Also, I was too old, and too porous.

He might not have been thinking of that twenty years later when he tried to pick me up with that lame “got any Irish in you” line while the Jets game was playing at that corner sweet tea bar, but maybe he should have. Matthew Broderick knew enough to be wary, even if Marc didn’t. Thus, into the toilet he went.

It’s cool though. I’ve got four bathrooms in my house and only two non-captive people. Sometimes I go a little in each just to make sure none go to waste, and you can even use Marc’s bathroom if you only need to wash your hands. He’s cool with it as long as you don’t gawk at the way the quicklime scarred up his face.

Like any of the Hollywood people, Marc can be a little vain.


published 23 March 2016