This won’t make any sense if you haven’t read the comments on yesterday’s post. So do that first. I’m just going to break character here for a minute before we get back to the Busy Little Hen, who has no business signing my checks.
When fictional characters start arriving at the Pigsty and making themselves comfortable and getting their muddy paws all over my nice clean floor – well, I feel like we have turned the corner into a new and higher reality.
It’s like when I was a little kid. I was seriously ill for a long time and had to stay in bed. This was when radio was declining but not fallen yet. Sunday afternoons were my favorites. I could turn on the Jack Benny show and laugh for half an hour straight. Laughter was great! I felt so much better!
The show always took place at Jack’s house in Beverly Hills where he lived with Rochester, his chauffeur, and a lady he wasn’t married to. I was never quite sure about their relationship except they were friends. Anyway, the day’s story would be moving along – like maybe Jack had to get his car fixed and he takes it to the cheapest repair shop in town and Rochester says “He’ll fix your car for a dollar ninety-eight? Uh-oh”, when suddenly there’s a knock at the door and Jack says, “Hmmm, who’s this now” and opens the door and with an astonished exclamation he cries out “OZZIE AND HARRIET???!!!” Audience erupts into wild applause. Then Ozzie gets into some comic banter with Jack about his little scamp son Ricky and Harriet sings a number, and pretty soon the door knocks and Jack opens it and, amazingly, it’s “BARBARA STANWYCK???!!!!” and the Queen, who was just walking down to the corner store for some smokes, stops in to trade snappy repartee with Jack and Rochester and Ozzie and Harriet. Like that.
Well, that’s how I felt last night when I was checking the comments on yesterday’s post. Hmmm, Kirstie doesn’t believe I’m a chicken… Belladonna was a fruit tramp once (must remember that for future jokes) and (knock knock knock) hmmm, who’s that? (SFX: opens door) “JINX THE CAAAT???!!!”
The studio audience breaks into wild applause as a genuine fictional character breaks through the bounds of time and space to enter my Beverly Hills pigsty and make some authentically rude Jinx-type remarks and put his muddy paws up on my nice clean furniture.
Who will be next? LONG JOHN SILVER??? John, tell our readers about that time your parrot got trapped in the apple barrel. (SFX: parrot squawking “Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!”)
This is pretty exciting stuff. For those of you who led a deprived childhood, Jinx the Cat assisted the great Freddy the Pig on adventures through twenty-six of the funniest children’s books ever written.
At least that was my opinion as a boy connoisseur. The trouble with that bed I had to stay in was I kept falling off it from helpless laughter as Freddy and Jinx and Mrs. Wiggins the Cow fought bank robbers and started a newspaper and joined the circus and decided to walk to Florida and foiled Simon The Rat’s gang yet one more time.
I still love to laugh. And to make other people laugh. And I hate and despise mean-spirited humor based on cruelty, putting people down, making somebody else the butt of the joke. So I became a talking pig. Like the paragon of porkers, my noble ancestor, Freddy The Pig.
Thanks, Jinx, for dropping by. You made my day! Give a big hand everybody to that most ferocious of felines, that prince of prowlers, that toughest of tabbys…the great JINX THE CAT!!!
Now can I get back up in my tree?