Shorty & Morty
An Extraordinary Homeless Couple
“I’m not your brotha. I’m black and you’re white, okay? That’s some serious Mandingo juice you been drinking.”
With a futile battle cry – “I want my flapjacks back!!!” Mr. Weldon gave up chasing Razor as he hit the boulevard. Somehow – Razor had immersed himself into the crowd or went underground. Heaving to catch some air as raging thoughts riddled through his mind – snapshots of Razor getting his just desserts for stealing his pancake boxes and especially – his lovely Mrs. Butterworth bottles. Razor’s face exploding as Mr. Weldon tightened vice screws around his temples – Razor crying on the ground and begging as his rubbing alcohol bottle was poured out in front of him – Razor in shock while Weldon pulls out an envelope opener ever so slowly from his gut to reveal blood and a partially digested pancake kabob. Whoosh! Screeching brakes.
Silent Nick rolled along side of Mr. Weldon – “Hey my brotha what’s up?” Weldon looked down agitated by the intrusion. “I’m not your brotha. I’m black and you’re white, okay?” Dismissively he walked faster. Nick kept up. “That’s cold man… that’s f^^ked up. That’s some serious Mandingo juice you been drinking.” Weldon kept walking used to the mental illnesses that pervaded Krazytown. Silent Nick tested – “You looking for a big guy that is pushing an oversized cart with pancakes boxes and syrup?” Weldon froze in place – it was too good to be true. “YES.” As the wheelchair turned – “I think I saw him not too far down the block a few minutes ago. Brotha was in a rush.” “I am not your brother! Which way?! Which way? Come on!” Weldon demanded. “Lemme think some on that.” Silent snaps his fingers. “Oh – I remember now. Even the homeless have a code. So – you’re sh*t outta luck – brotha!”
Silent Nick’s chair swooshed off as he catcalled over-his-shoulder. “It must suck being a social worker with an eating disorder! I think he had your candy bars too! But, I’m just an ivory gimp… right Mr. Wondah?” Weldon’s face swelled with rage. “I’m not blind – you lying chair with legs!” Silent laughed. “Yeah – I’m flying and Razor can see. But – can he see you?” Nick spun his wheelchair on one wheel and ripped off.
Weldon was pissed. Pissed – that Razor faked his blindness to get sympathy. Pissed – that no supervisor at his job took his work as seriously as he did. Pissed – that his goods were gone and pissed – because his stomach rumbled so loud it echoed a car backfiring and people were staring at him. Damn it! He wasn’t some freak on the street. They were the ones. Yessiree – and he was about to tell them – when – Krazy Kate gaily marched up in her cowboy boots . “Hi!!! It’s good to see you… why are you here? Oh… I know…I knoww… cuz Jared… I mean Shorty and Morty… well… my cancer is back and I’m really hungry…but Michael Jackson just moonwalked and gave me some candy!”
“SHUT UP! KATE!” Weldon bellowed. “Don’t you ever know when to shut the hell up?!” Krazy Kate looked down and started humming to herself as she slid her boot in a semi-circle. She pulled out sock puppet and began a soothing conversation with her hand. The social worker looked to the moon – mumbling to himself – “NO ONE understands how hard my job is. If anyone realized how much effort I put into these people – I’d be given a key to the city by the celebrity mayor and a High-Rise apartment of my own… but NOOO… the homeless get Section 8 housing faster than anyone and I’m stuck chasing after Razor the rim rod. I miss you Mrs. Butterworth.”
A salivating Mr. Weldon took a deep breath and sighed – “I’m sorry Kate. I’m just upset. It’s not you. Razor broke into my car and I don’t know where he lives – do you?” Kate’s face lit up like a firecracker. “I do! I do! I do!… do… do… oh… like poo-poo… you gotta be careful of the poo-poo! Mkay?” She inhaled and readied to splatter out a slew of words in no particular direction.
Weldon wanted to wrap his large hands around her neck and snap it but a patrol car passed with lights flashing and a honk. The passenger cop waved to him and he returned the wave accompanied by an enormous welcoming grin. Through gritted teeth he asked – “Do you or do you not know where Razor lives?” Kate’s hand stopped talking – “Well – I could show you. Wanna go for a walk with us? But you have to be quiet – sshhh – bushes don’t make noise just the traffic – just the traffic.” The social worker followed her – he wanted his stash back and he wanted it NOW.
He just hoped Krazy Kate wouldn’t try leading them into the local Target. Two weeks ago she clanked heavily through the exit – tripping the alarm – stealing and concealing whatever she could lay her hands on beneath her clothing. She got a day of three squares and the social worker wasn’t going to lose his job over a nut case – he knew that Kate’s mind meandered and her body followed like a slinky. Mr. Weldon didn’t need a wild goose chase – he had a goose to cook.
Hollywood’s Most Private Club …
The local business owners – non-for-profiteers – wealthy entrepreneurs and select elected officials came together in an enormous conference suite of a new private club. The penthouse was reserved but the floor below was high up enough to separate the haves and the have nots within an old refurbished Hollywood Hotel. The club was so exclusive it bore no name for general public consumption. Some would hit the bowling floor later and get hammered fearless of any DUI penalties due to the officers in attendance. Computers made revenue register or disappear with the tap of a key or conveniently turned top dollars into a parking ticket with the right “name” attached.
The City of Angels was well stocked in her pot of glory but the ever increasing hyper-vigilant worker bees were easily hived into believing that it was up to them to save their city - their homes and their country by being obedient little soldiers. The news with anchors in elegant dresses reported what was what and who was or wasn’t who but save the children and your dogs. Education was more about mutations of old ideas borrowed to serve the deserving few and little was taught in schools – except the usual - cheat to get ahead. That race – had many a hound.
Leah Lexington slithered into the room – as murmurs became an audible buzz. Placing one glittery red stiletto after another – head held high - her cat-like eyes searched for Dr. Olivia Copeland’s fiery red hair. Leah was striking in her almost female body and she knew it. Tonight – she dressed for success – she mirrored one of her finest BLACKMOUTH paintings - combining vintage with the majestic – Lexington no longer needed to impress. Leah swapped her Dresden ‘do to brunette – perfection – she needed to attract some new trophied meat. She commanded attention and relished the thought that most of the males in this room were in her phone – each secured by a password that kept her alive.
Lexington’s ruby reds teased as she walked up to Copeland and they exchanged air – cheek kisses. Bel Air had nothing on Krazytown’s meetings or greeting affairs – this monthly mixer was akin to – Hitler embraces Indira Ghandi. The fun was just beginning for Leah – she wanted her non-for-profit for the boys and girls who would be men and women and she wanted it now. In Lexington’s trannied eyes – her stakes were higher than anyone else’s in the room – she grabbed another glass of red wine off of a passing tray and belted it back. She sidled up and whispered to Dr. Copeland – “Who do I have to know – not blow – to get my non-profit going?” Copeland laughed – “Why so fast – Leah? It’s city official election time – you know that’s going to be a stretch. Lots of pay-offs to be scaled.”
Lexington hissed – “I made their marks and the time is now. All the news is about same sex marriages – even Jesus had two daddies – they can’t fight that or Elton John. I’m just asking for a center to help transgenders who don’t fit into the Gay/Lesbian Movement or the rest of the world – frankly I’m tired of hearing about gay courage. I’m about to lose my d*ck – that’s daring and courageous! Point out any man willing to do that for his woman? I am! This is hot topical sh*t I’m offering some new clown to spout out as theirs when she or he are being throned for a day with the delusion of making a difference.”
Copeland – alarmed at Leah’s intensity – tried quieting her down as the well-heeled but nature-loving – Mattci Waldschmidt waltzed up – with a police captain in tow.
Silent Nick listened with a wide bearded grin until Forearmless Jake and Pikey Pram Pusher passed by. They just copped dope from tattooed and pierced – Candy-girl Lane. Nick coughed and covered his nose like the doormen at the refurbished Hotel as Pikey strolled past.
Jake kept at Pikey about how the cops were – “All about revenue – man. I lost my arms in combat and these ratdogs act like they’re saving babies. They couldn’t find a dead body if it was spread out in front of ‘em like a paperboy. They’d probably think it was one of us homeless passed out and take a leak on us.” Pikey nodded but his super-sonic crank brain had one vision alone in mind – playing his EMF DVD. Jail and helping Celine at the ER and Candy-girl Lane upped his cravings of seeing the only girl he let close to his heart. Jake razzed on – “Hollywood’s a brand and the tongues of foreign are united to take a stand. America is lost.” Pikey hummed… I want my… I want my… I want my EMF...
Shorty & Morty’s Shack somewhere in Hollywood or the hills…
A loud thud woke the extraordinary homeless couple up. Alarmed – Morty pressed his hand against Celine’s mouth as he used his other to whip out his slingshot. BAM! CROINKkkk… The dwarf was up on his feet in seconds trying to locate the sound’s origin. Then what they both realized was so unbelievable – Morty shook Shorty – to see if they were both awake.
To be continued…
I love these characters, their Krazytown nieghorhoods they reside in with the other misfits, tourists and has been or wannabe - "bluebloods." This journeys beyond the films or the in-character interviews. I hope they will bring you as much pleasure as I had creating them!