things and people and ideas

Skinny Boy was hooked up.
The previously-viewed DVD copy of the "Boomstick Edition" of Sam Raimi's chiller killer Army of Darkness was in the right place.
He would watch it when the mood struck.
For now, what struck him most profoundly were the primitive impulses.
The basics.
"Sooner or later," he progressed. "A skinny boy has to put down the aluminum beer can, polish off the Critter Fritters, and face reality. The reality is that there is more than one way to get off the couch. You can hop, skip, or jump/heed the words of Forrest Gump/China Light on Green Street used to serve the drinks./Times of woe descend at random/Little Joe was played by Landon/Better drop the gun if you need time to think."
Wendy pulled up on her Huffy bicycle vehicle, licked her lips suggestively, and showed Skinny Boy her extremely large smile.
Skinny Boy blushed.
Wendy said, "Don't be bashful, Skinny. There are no formalities here. Unless, of course, you're going to sue me or something."
Skinny remarked, "Legal proceedings notwithstanding, the 'Boomstick' can wait. You should join me for Breakfast Spankies and a John Hughes double feature, Wendy."
"Are you serious?" groaned Wendy. "Beyond Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, those movies don't really hold any water for an adult anymore. Not that I mean to take a cheap shot at the departed or anything."
"Ohh, I get it," frowned Skinny. "You don't LIKE the 'retarded,' is that it?"
Wendy said, "DEPARTED, silly."
"OK. No offense, Wendy. I guess the religious films I've been studying have me a little edgy. Did you know that, in some areas, zealots are praying for nothing less than the end of the world?"
"Skinny, can we stick to one subject? Try a little patience, and maybe some manners? Good grief."
Skinny yawned, "Are you in for the movie or NOT, Wendy?"
Wendy was in no mood for some imaginary ass-grab, and she didn't feel like budging an inch.
Skinny frowned, "This grab-ass is beneath both of us. Harry Dean Stanton put Molly Ringwald through SCHOOL. He couldn't even get off the couch, and HE PUT HER THROUGH SCHOOL."
"Yeah, Skinny, it's still just a movie. It's a long, unrealistic, maudlin movie. Count me out."
Skinny shrugged in a vaguely deferential fashion, as though his shoulders were flapping in the cool spring breeze.
Wendy sighed, "Attitude problems are unbecoming, Skinny. When was the last time you tried to put a smile on my face, with no thought of reimbursement?"
"Last night," leered Skinny.
Wendy rolled here eyes.
"I don't even REMEMBER last night, and I didn't drink alcohol," she laughed. "What does that thell you about our relationship, Skinny Boy?"
"It's a work in progress?"
Wendy said, "More like, it's WORK. Sitting there all smug and whatnot, you are. As usual, I'll be putting in time at the animal shelter tonight while you pretend you have something better to do than be nice."
Skinny protested, "I'm PLENTY of nice. GOOD and plenty, as they say."
"Skinny? The only person allowed to say 'as they say' in this area is FAT GUY. You aren't fat. Not on the inside."
Screwing up his eyes, Skinny countered, "Well, I'll BE. Now you're slandering Fat Guy's character and assailing his reputation. I ought to write your name down on a clipboard or something."
Wendy mused, "Pop the cork, you raving dork."
"I'll toss your cookies, bleach blonde Wookie."
"Rhymes, Skinny. But alas, it doesn't make sense. Try again or you can kiss your 'cookies' good-bye!"
Skinny stammered, "I'll take you to the beach/wish upon a falling star/steal a moment by the river/leave your jacket in the car/time goes by as grows the grass/hunger pangs cut to the bone/Pack animals stick together/or they come unglued alone."
Wendy opined, "The part about predators in the wild kind of loses me. Are you patrolling for raw meat or something?"
Skinny shook his head.
A foreigner, somewhat of a dyed-in-the-wool malcontent, cruised past in an ancient Oldsmobile, rolled down his window, and turned up the stereo radio, treating Wendy and Skinny to a few notes of Jermaine Stewart's block-rocking 1986 concupiscence classic, "We Don't Have To Take Our Clothes Off."
"He's right, you know," observed Wendy.
Skinny queried, "You mean the part about keeping our clothes on, Wendy?"
Wendy frowned, "No. I mean the part about stimulating my brain, as I am not some kind of vicious animal. Or some kind of nut to your drooling squirrel. Natch?"