Dude, I think Warren Zevon is exerting his ghostly influence to rub me out. I have no idea what Mr. Zevon has against me, yo. First there was the whole accidental-suicide attempt with the garage. Then, while recounting that particular story to a coworker (complete with song lyrics), my foot gets caught in an extension cord, and I nearly pull a broken fax machine down onto my noggin’. The next day, I almost took a header down the stairs while humming along with “My Dirty Life in Times” on the radio. Eeeire, yes…but I still hadn’t made the connection.

So the other day, I’m driving home from work, traffic is pretty light, I flip the radio to KGSR and good ol’ Zevon in on the radio again. And it’s a good tune, so I turn up the volume, hit the gas and head down the homestretch. Just as I’m bop-bop-bopping along to an angry chorus about the CIA…or marijuana…whatever, Asswipe swerves out onto the road at breakneck speed, careening right toward my car. So I scream and hit the breaks. Asswipe decides to right the situation and proceeds to sideswipe Mr. Volvo. Mr. Volvo screams (assumingly anyway) and hits the breaks, both Asswipe and Mr. Volvo try to get the hell away from each other by ingeniously swerving into the same goddamn lane, thus creating one giant road block in front of my screeching-to-a-halt car. I’m screaming obscenities, wishing my tires were in better shape so that I could avoid impact, when Asswipe and Mr. Volvo execute a beautiful break away into opposite lanes, just before I rear-end the mother fuckers. Of course, it happened a lot faster than that:

“I’m down on my luck-”

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

“The shit has hit the fan-”

*Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeech* *Sweeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerve*

“Send Lawyers, Guns and Money-”

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKIIIIIIIIING

“Send Lawyers, Guns and Money-”

SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Send Lawyers, Guns and Money-”

ASSHOLE!

“And get me out of this.”

I think I’m gonna puke.

Is Mr. Zevon trying to tell me something? Is there a ghostly message involved, like “Errrrin…you siiiiiing all my soooooongs…why do you not buy my albuuuuuuuum? I need renuuuuuuuuumeraaaaaaation. Ooooooooooo.”

Sheesh, talk about pushy sales tactics. I’m sort of afraid to buy any of his albums now…but then again, I’m kind of afraid not to.

But maybe it’s something else entirely, like that movie where the guy hears the John Denver song and then someone kicks the proverbial bucket in the most gruesome manner possible. If I recall, the guy actually survives, but all his friends get bumped off. You frogs better watch yo’ backs.

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Comments

Julie

2004-04-14T16:02:59.000Z

I’d recommend not listening to Mr. Zevon anymore.  Anytime he comes on the radio, just change the channel.  Because he has it out for you and he is apparently not going to give up.  And I remember Final Destination.  And that movie was very scary.  And you don’t want to die like that, no way Jose!

Brett

2004-04-15T18:29:31.000Z

I think I will buy you every Warren Zevon album he made so that you can ceremonially smash them in an attempt to rid yourself of this haunting.

Tarv

2004-04-15T18:58:08.000Z

Sounds like we’ve got our horror play right there…the curse of Warren Zevon.  Imagine if you woke up in the middle of the night to see your toy clown standing in the window sill singing “Werewolves of London.”