Feb. 6: I had a pet rock named George
When I was 8, I got a pet rock for Christmas. The rock was grey and
it weighed 2.5 pounds and it was about the size of a 591 mL bottle of
Dr. Pepper. Someone had painted eyes and a mouth on it. The mouth was
smiling, which meant the rock was happy. I called it George.
George was placed on my windowsill between a solved Rubik's Cube and my autographed picture of Roger Whittaker (which I got when the Rog-meister played the Delaware Dome.) There George stayed for two months until I took him to school with me for show and tell.
"This is my rock," I told the class. "His name is George."
"Oh," said the class.
Then Tyler introduced his uncle, who was the children's entertainer Raffi.
And suddenly, no one cared about my stupid ole pet rock anymore.
*
Raffi was halfway through singing Down By the Bay when I asked my teacher if I could go to the bathroom*. She said I could even though the urinals were broken. I said I would use the sink.
I took George into the bathroom and used the sink and then I sat down to cry. I put George in front of me and said: "How come no one likes you, George? They all think you're silly."
"I guess I'm just not as cool as Raffi," George said.
George was right. He wasn't as cool as Raffi. I wasn't as cool as Raffi. No one's as cool as Raffi. Raffi gets all the chicks.
*
When I tried to let myself out of the bathroom, I found that the door was locked. I yelled and screamed and cried and pounded on the door. Nothing. Hours passed. I drank water from the sink. My stomach growled.
"Maybe you can eat the pucks from the urinals," said George.
"No," I said. "They taste like peppermint."
"Ah," said George.
*
At 2 in the morning, Raffi came for me. He was no longer wearing the hat and vest that he is wearing above. Now he was wearing pink spandex pants, a Minnesota North Stars hockey jersey, and a rainbow clown wig. He still had his salt and pepper beard and he was swinging his guitar like a viking swings a battle ax.
"Give me George," Raffi demanded, and I handed the rock over. He had this look on his face that was all "don't eff with the Raff-ster."
The hall outside the bathroom was dark and it smelled of Mr. Clean and barf with Count Chocula in it.
"Okay, let's get one thing straight," said Raffi. "I rescued you for one reason only. I got two tickets to a movie premiere tonight and no one wants to go with me. I figured if I busted you out of the can, you'd be willing to go."
"Can George come too?" I asked.
Raffi sighed. "Yes. As long as he stays in your pocket."
*
Raffi threw me on the back of his Harley and drove to the Studio 82 movie theatre in southwest Calgary**. There were spotlights and limousines and waitresses dressed as French maids. There was also Drew Barrymore, who was like nine, and she was shaking everyone's hand. When she saw Raffi, she went ballistic and told her that Corner Grocery Store was her favourite album of all time. Raffi told her that he had to take a whiz.
While Raffi was relieving himself, George started screaming.
"I can sense I'm in the presence of a movie star and I want to meet her," George said.
So I pulled out George and let Drew hold him.
"Is he ever cute," she said.
"I loved ET," said George. "I also liked Firestarter."
"Thanks," said Drew Barrymore. "The movie premiering tonight is called Cat's Eye and, like Firestarter, it was also written by Stephen King."
Just then, Stephen King entered the room and everyone started applauding and telling him how great he was. George said he loved IT, even the 400 pages that weren't necessary.
Stephen King was very happy to be in Calgary because everyone is happy when they're in Calgary. They do cartwheels and grande jaté entourrands (I don't know how to spell it but it's a dance move where you jump in the air and land on the other foot.) Stephen King was eating an Oreo cookie.
Stephen King was just about to embrace Drew and tell her that she was his favourite actress in the world (next to Kathy Bates) when suddenly, Raffi emerged from the bathroom. Stephen King looked at him and saw red. Raffi didn't look too thrilled either.
"Oh oh," said George. "I think we're going to see a bad case of beard envy."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Beard envy sometimes happens when two successful bearded men occupy the same space together," said Drew. "They get really upset that the other person has a beard. Sometimes it gets bloody."
"I should point out that this only happens when the bearded men are in competing fields - in this case horror literature and children's music," said George. "Otherwise, the guys in ZZ Top would have killed each other years ago."
I was about to ask what we should do when Raffi suddenly charged Stephen King and hit him in the side of the head with his guitar. Stephen King stumbled and then he opened his mouth and out game a swarm of bees that were the size of golf balls. They buzzed and made click-clack sounds and then they swarmed Raffi and they ate his guitar and his beard and his eyelashes and drove nails into his cheeks until he looked like this:
Raffi was not at all happy about being debearded. He ran behind the snack counter and started hurling popcorn and red nibs and Fanta at Stephen King, who had stopped exhaling bees (which were all dead.) Stephen King deflected them all with the mad ninja moves he learned in his Tae Kwon Do classes in Hawkesbury and Vankleek Hill, two villages in eastern Ontario.
"This has gone on long enough," said George. "Put me down."
I put George the rock on the floor and he instantly grew to 50 times his original size. He picked up Raffi, squished him so he was only one inch tall, and deposited him in a thimble, which he gave to Drew Barrymore.
"Yay," said Drew. "Now the movie premiere can start."
I looked at Stephen King, who appeared to be mortified.
"So that's how this ends?" he asked. "Come on, Shteevie, you can come up with a better ending than this."
I said: "Well, now you know how I felt when I finished Needful Things."
-
* Didn't actually happen
** Studio 82 is no longer there. The space is now occupied by a sports bar that serves 30 flavours of chicken wings.
George was placed on my windowsill between a solved Rubik's Cube and my autographed picture of Roger Whittaker (which I got when the Rog-meister played the Delaware Dome.) There George stayed for two months until I took him to school with me for show and tell.
"This is my rock," I told the class. "His name is George."
"Oh," said the class.
Then Tyler introduced his uncle, who was the children's entertainer Raffi.
And suddenly, no one cared about my stupid ole pet rock anymore.
*
Raffi was halfway through singing Down By the Bay when I asked my teacher if I could go to the bathroom*. She said I could even though the urinals were broken. I said I would use the sink.
I took George into the bathroom and used the sink and then I sat down to cry. I put George in front of me and said: "How come no one likes you, George? They all think you're silly."
"I guess I'm just not as cool as Raffi," George said.
George was right. He wasn't as cool as Raffi. I wasn't as cool as Raffi. No one's as cool as Raffi. Raffi gets all the chicks.
The ladies love a man with a banana
*
When I tried to let myself out of the bathroom, I found that the door was locked. I yelled and screamed and cried and pounded on the door. Nothing. Hours passed. I drank water from the sink. My stomach growled.
"Maybe you can eat the pucks from the urinals," said George.
"No," I said. "They taste like peppermint."
"Ah," said George.
*
At 2 in the morning, Raffi came for me. He was no longer wearing the hat and vest that he is wearing above. Now he was wearing pink spandex pants, a Minnesota North Stars hockey jersey, and a rainbow clown wig. He still had his salt and pepper beard and he was swinging his guitar like a viking swings a battle ax.
"Give me George," Raffi demanded, and I handed the rock over. He had this look on his face that was all "don't eff with the Raff-ster."
The hall outside the bathroom was dark and it smelled of Mr. Clean and barf with Count Chocula in it.
"Okay, let's get one thing straight," said Raffi. "I rescued you for one reason only. I got two tickets to a movie premiere tonight and no one wants to go with me. I figured if I busted you out of the can, you'd be willing to go."
"Can George come too?" I asked.
Raffi sighed. "Yes. As long as he stays in your pocket."
*
Raffi threw me on the back of his Harley and drove to the Studio 82 movie theatre in southwest Calgary**. There were spotlights and limousines and waitresses dressed as French maids. There was also Drew Barrymore, who was like nine, and she was shaking everyone's hand. When she saw Raffi, she went ballistic and told her that Corner Grocery Store was her favourite album of all time. Raffi told her that he had to take a whiz.
While Raffi was relieving himself, George started screaming.
"I can sense I'm in the presence of a movie star and I want to meet her," George said.
So I pulled out George and let Drew hold him.
"Is he ever cute," she said.
"I loved ET," said George. "I also liked Firestarter."
"Thanks," said Drew Barrymore. "The movie premiering tonight is called Cat's Eye and, like Firestarter, it was also written by Stephen King."
Just then, Stephen King entered the room and everyone started applauding and telling him how great he was. George said he loved IT, even the 400 pages that weren't necessary.
Read it or use it as a drain plug.
Stephen King was very happy to be in Calgary because everyone is happy when they're in Calgary. They do cartwheels and grande jaté entourrands (I don't know how to spell it but it's a dance move where you jump in the air and land on the other foot.) Stephen King was eating an Oreo cookie.
Stephen King was just about to embrace Drew and tell her that she was his favourite actress in the world (next to Kathy Bates) when suddenly, Raffi emerged from the bathroom. Stephen King looked at him and saw red. Raffi didn't look too thrilled either.
Raffis's beard? Ha! Not scary.
"Oh oh," said George. "I think we're going to see a bad case of beard envy."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Beard envy sometimes happens when two successful bearded men occupy the same space together," said Drew. "They get really upset that the other person has a beard. Sometimes it gets bloody."
"I should point out that this only happens when the bearded men are in competing fields - in this case horror literature and children's music," said George. "Otherwise, the guys in ZZ Top would have killed each other years ago."
I was about to ask what we should do when Raffi suddenly charged Stephen King and hit him in the side of the head with his guitar. Stephen King stumbled and then he opened his mouth and out game a swarm of bees that were the size of golf balls. They buzzed and made click-clack sounds and then they swarmed Raffi and they ate his guitar and his beard and his eyelashes and drove nails into his cheeks until he looked like this:
Raffi was not at all happy about being debearded. He ran behind the snack counter and started hurling popcorn and red nibs and Fanta at Stephen King, who had stopped exhaling bees (which were all dead.) Stephen King deflected them all with the mad ninja moves he learned in his Tae Kwon Do classes in Hawkesbury and Vankleek Hill, two villages in eastern Ontario.
"This has gone on long enough," said George. "Put me down."
I put George the rock on the floor and he instantly grew to 50 times his original size. He picked up Raffi, squished him so he was only one inch tall, and deposited him in a thimble, which he gave to Drew Barrymore.
"Yay," said Drew. "Now the movie premiere can start."
I looked at Stephen King, who appeared to be mortified.
"So that's how this ends?" he asked. "Come on, Shteevie, you can come up with a better ending than this."
I said: "Well, now you know how I felt when I finished Needful Things."
-
* Didn't actually happen
** Studio 82 is no longer there. The space is now occupied by a sports bar that serves 30 flavours of chicken wings.
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