On the Far Side of the World

"Mike," Gutter radioed over from the Mustang. "There's a guy at your ten o'clock."

 

Gutter and the gang, Ron and Laura, circled past the Nugget Springs Casino, engine run low. It was a nice part of Mexicali, consisting of high rises, casinos, and restaurants, all forever owned and indebted to The Ring. The air on the streets still reeked of red hot chili peppers and some sort of burnt beef. A short man, donning a leather jacket, turned the corner, tapping on his ear.

 

"Everyone ready?" asked Gutter, loading a single round into his revolver. "It's either me or that cocky bastard." He looked up. "And, I hope it ain't gonna be me."

 

And I Bid You Goodnight

The Desert Tower. It rose somewhere on the outskirts of Jacumba Springs, off U.S. 50. The ground there was sacred, holding some sort of energy spiral of old beneath the sands. But, it wasn't sacred enough for Gutter not to step there. 

 

He pulled into town, alongside a Pueblo hotel. The palm trees whipped around, thrashing as he jumped out. The concrete felt good underneath his boots. He unlatched the trunk of his teal 1972 Mustang, and hooted. An M249 SAW machine gun stared back. 

 

"That's one of the nicest guns I've seen in a long time."  Gutter racked the ammunition belt, and punched in a few rounds. "Ka-ching!" he hollered. Laura grinned.

 

Spatial Reasoning

"Gutter..." said El Saguaro, leaning against a heavily graffitied wall. "Where's the writer?"

 

A flurry of yellow taxicabs, resale value ruined by thousands of scraped stickers, raced through the slog of Mexicali at the sight of a broken green signal. A pair of stained blue sneakers swayed in the breeze above the bustling junction, a mark of the cartel's bounds. On the other side laid The Ring's territory, a slump of earthquake-ridden high rises.

 

"You know better than messing with The Ring," Gutter replied, sipping on a light margarita. He was clothed in a short cut Hawaiian shirt to match his short, stout, and muscular body. "They'll get to Ron before the CIA realizes."

 

"If we team up," Saguaro flipped out a bulky envelope, "Everyone will get a punch at the Devil."

 

That thing can eat!

 

 

"That thing can eat!!" -Chef Gruel

Stella Blue

Gutter mumbled, "Sidebar," pulling aside Harold and the others. "You didn't tell us he was programmed to speak Portuguese."

 

"Well, I didn't know the specifics, exactly," Harold replied. His gaze shifted, flickering from the group to the troubled Columbus in the corner.

 

"In your face, Harold," Gutter said, turning to face Columbus.

 

From the aforementioned corner, the pioneer yelled, "O que você está fazendo?" He appeared to become increasingly irritated, even wielding a small saber at that point.

 

"Blackpoleon Blackaparte," Gutter eyed the guide, clarifying, "Harold, I need you to outflank the enemy fire."

 

Cannonball Run

"What a long, strange trip it's been," Ron muttered.

 

He looked up at Elmina Castle, the colony's limestone fortress, sat atop an ancient rock at the mouth of the harbor, surrounded by a towering battlement. Afront to them was the castle's main entrance, a large double plank door, seemingly made for giants. It was heavily fortified: iron wrought strap hinges, bars, and ring-shaped handles, were joined together by a sharp grate, rusted from the salty air.

 

A cast iron cannon, wheels half sunken in a puddle of sand, was rocked further into it by the loading of a bronze cannonball, to which Harold smiled. He then lit the thick fuse with the stroke of a dirty match, and off to the races it went. The spark hissed as it went, snaking from the stem, and into the black barrel. As it winded around, Harold attempted to steer the cannon toward the castle, barely able to tame the raging beast.

 

Changes in Latitude

"What coconut tree did we fall out of?" Gutter asked sarcastically. "Certainly not Kamala's."

 

Ron, along with Mike, Laura, and Gutter, stood atop a rounded, grassy bluff on the outskirts of the small settlement of Elmina. It was founded a decade before by the Portuguese to cement the lucrative and up-and-coming gold and ivory trade as their own.

 

There was a certain buzz in the colony: The Santa Maria, owned and captained by Christopher Columbus himself, was docked in the shallow harbor. His flagship, white sails completely unfurled, towered above all the other dinghies, schooners, and caravels anchored along the Benya River.

 

Faster Than the Speed of Love

"How's Kirby doing?" Joe asked, holding up his phone. "The little guy."

 

On his screen was an image of Stewie sleeping, taken through his bedroom window. The shot was partially obscured by the baby's mobile, made up of guns since it was bought in Detroit.

 

"Joe," Peter said slowly. "His name is Stewie."

 

"Huh," Joe muttered in response, "He looks like a Kirby, and I'm never wrong."

 

Ron asked, "Is your baby pregnant again?"

 

One if by Clam, Two if by Sea

4/23/26 - Thursday Night

 

Hey all, writing to you from the sun-drenched Ocean Mist Hotel in Yarmouth. It reminds me of the Oceanview Hotel (and Motel) from Alan Wake and Control. Partly because of the dual lamps right next to me...

 

Wish It, Want It, Do It

Ron, along with Meg, Peter, and Brian, piled into the Griffins' red station wagon. It was coated heavily with liquor and gasoline after the prior night's drunken attempt to set the world on fire. Weeds, both garden and the excitable types, as well as tulips, were found deep set into the rubber windshield wiper hatches, strewn about alongside clumps of dirt.

 

"Meg," Peter said. His eyes darted from his daughter to Cleveland's house, and then back to her. "You need to take a sharp right."

 

"Dad, I'm an adult now," she replied. "You don't need to worry about my driving anymore."

 

Gutfeld! 4/21/26

Gutfeld and Loftus' southern impressions...

 

 

What I Learned on Spooner Street

Special Edition: 4/20/26

 

-

 

Ron, trailed closely by Laura, knocked on the Griffins' red front door. He brought a burnt pan of meatloaf, drizzled with a cheap instant gravy mix from the local Mini-Mart. As Brian Steele opened the door, Laura's periwinkle floral blouse fluttered in the soft, warm breeze alongside her blonde hair.

 

"Hello my baby," Brian said upon seeing Laura, before adding: "Hello, Ron," as he welcomed them in.

 

Naked Unicorn 35

The Airport Bar Password...

 

★★★★★    

 

"Hey, Ron," Jamie said, leaning out of his driver side window. Ron turned around with a hopeful smile on his face. The comedian continued, "You won't know how lucky you are until you lose her," and rolled up his window. 

 

He circled around the lit-up fountain, tacked right in the center of a tiny oval field, and drove down Pennsylvania Avenue. The red taillights reflected off of the windows of the various storefronts lining the road, laying dark and deserted. A handful of spotlights beamed on the Capitol Building's dome, casting a mirror image of it onto the dark clouds.

 

Alaska's Finest

He was a story version of a person with a broken heart...

 

★★★★★   

 

"Jamie," the divorced looking man, quite evident by his pale blue button-down shirt, introduced himself. He stuck out his hand, knocking over a few beer bottles, with a wide grin spread on his face. "Jamie Lizzard. I'm Alaska's most famous comedian."

 

The writer replied, "Ron," as he shook Jamie's hand.

 

"What brings you to The Swamp?" the comedian asked. He mouthed to the bartender for a glass of whiskey on the rocks. Ron stirred around what was left of his Pink Rabbit, contemplating whether he should get another. He took a bite of the strawberry, sliced halfway on the rim of his coupe glass.

 

Party at the End of the World

United States Blues

 

★★★★★  

 

"I'm Uncle Sam," Ron joked to Mike and Laura. He wore a red and white blazer, along with blue suede shoes. "How do you do?"

 

There they were, having cocktails and wine, at a special version of the Congressional Ball, just around a month from the Fourth of July. Laura's silver sequin dress shimmered as the spotlights skimmed over the crowd. She matched with Mike, who wore a metallic gray blue suit, topped with a Stanzo fedora. Tin Man and Tin Woman.

 

Good Morning, U.S.A.!

Taking a dip into the Swamp...

 

★★★★★ 

 

"The President is looking forward to meeting you," an aide, flanked by two Marine Sentries, greeted Ron. 

 

She said it in a rather gloomy tone, since the prospects of nuclear winter seemed to be on the horizon. The writer stood next to Barb and Dr. House, shadowed by the White House against the golden glow of the rising Sun. Patriotic pillar buntings swayed and flapped in the wind, unironically nailed to the white pillars.

 

Life on the Flip Side

Ice cream not available.

 

A thunderous crack marked the arrival of the Mothership, emerging from the white, fluffy clouds above Las Vegas. The ship, metal panels flaming from reentry, banked right above the city, engulfing it in a large shadow. Two tri-finned steel disk-shaped fighter crafts deployed from the Mothership's hangar with a screeching roar, and dove toward the evacuation routes.

 

"Ron, before you go," Jimmy started, but was briefly interrupted. Three A-10 Warthogs, sent to intercept the Zetan attackers, flew down the Strip. Amidst the chaos, he continued, "Send my regards to the President."

 

Greatest Love of All

 

 

From Gutfeld! 2/20/26 

 

Starring Kennedy, Sherrod Small, Emily Compagno, and Jon Taffer! 

Rags to Riches

Starring . . . . . Jimmy Haystack as the most dangerous man in the West . . . Dr. House as the High Roller . . .  Laura as the lady in the million dollar dress . . . Barb as the damsel in distress . . . Mike as the nifty sidekick . . . and Ron as the titular protagonist . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

"Are you the writer?" a Military Police officer asked Ron, opening the door of the writer's golden 1966 Cadillac DeVille. He was practically a walking billboard for recruitment with the blue uniform and armor, armbands, and white helmet, all stamped with a blue "MP." 

 

Ron noted the officer's nameplate, attached hastily to his tactical chestplate: "Benny Benson." Amused, the writer smiled, "Your parents weren't the most creative bunch, I take it," as he stepped out of the car and into the holy city of Las Vegas. He looked around in awe at the desert oasis: fountains, palm trees, and blooming agave plants lined the thoroughfare, spotlights perused the night sky, and the various casinos towered over him. 

 

Right Turn, Clyde!

(Dance Floor Blues!)

 

"I should have sold my 'Olds and bought me a jeep!" Jimmy Haystack chuckled, batting an eye at Ron, Mike, and Laura through the rearview mirror. Steering with his knees, he loaded rounds into the ammunition belt of his M249 SAW machine gun. 

 

"Has anyone checked in on Paul?" Mike asked, still covered in blood from earlier.

 

Dragged out of the lodge by the janitor and Laura, Paul was strapped to the roof of the car with bright orange lashing straps, much akin to a Christmas tree. The occasional thumping of his head on the ceiling, usually whenever Jimmy gunned the throttle, broke the silence. 

 

Life is a Dream

(The Fourth Installment of the Trilogy...)

 

"Give me your paper," Mike demanded, reaching over the pool table. The game room was lit by two dim lamps, hanging from the ceiling. A few red leather armchairs lined the log-cabin-esque walls, along with deer antlers and landscape paintings. 

 

"What? Why?" Ron asked from across the table.

 

"I don't know. What were you doing?"

 

Laura, the writing instructor, interjected, "Why don't we all just calm down." 

 

The self-proclaimed writer looked at her, thinking of an easy excuse, and replied, "I was writing." 

 

"Were you drawing pictures of my wheelbarrow?"

 

The King of Late Night: Taking a Risk

"I remember being on the road, doing live shows with Tom Shillue, and he was interested in checking out the city we happened to be in, by foot. It was rainy and grimy and I had mentioned that I didn't want the hassle. He reframed my anxiety by turning it into curiosity. 'Don't you want to see what's out there? Greg, life is an adventure!' He said this with his eyes almost popping out of his head. He was right. Then we got mugged." -Greg Gutfeld (page 161)

 

For me, Joe, a good friend of mine, pulled me out of the slow lane, the lane where you live a "clean, boring life." And that's how I got in an odd place, putting my writing hand in a sugary, liquid-filled blue Jolly Rancher bag. He said something along the lines of "You could win a free prize" to entice me.

 

What was the liquid? Water? Urine, probably.

 

The bottom of the bag was covered with squishy, sticky, melted candy bits. I hit one, and then tried to maneuver around them like a minesweeper during World War 2. Or like Indiana Jones, dodging the squishy, blown up Aztec temples, also due to World War 2.

 

And that's also how I was pushed off a cliff, by Joe. Turned out he was a crazed German spy whose real name was Lars Einhoff, and was searching for the Ark of the Covenant. He made it pretty far, bushwhacking his way through the Amazon jungle, while I stood triumphantly on the cliff, holding the shiny golden box thing in one hand and a bunch of chips in the other. 

 

Lemonworld

(Sequel to 'Lemonade'!) 

 

"Barb, remind me why we have to have dinner with a park ranger again," Ron commented sarcastically as he straightened his orange tie.

 

"We are doing this because the doctor said that you should be active, especially after your fall," Barb replied. "Besides, when was the last time we dined out?" She smiled. That was her way of saying, "Just go along with it."

 

"No..." Ron paused to think. "Wasn't that guy the local medicine man? The one with a cats and dogs degree, I think," he continued, as he held the large mahogany doors open for Barb. Once inside, Ron looked around the dining room. The likes of divorced insurance salesmen, gray suits stained from pizza, and middle-aged businesswomen seemed to mingle at the bar.

 

It had all the makings of a rustic lodge: wooden trusses held the ceiling up, paired with the log-cabin-esque walls, a few antler chandeliers. At the far side of the room, an out of place stand-up comedian, dressed with a red blazer and a Stanzo fedora, was setting up for his show. Ron and Barb eyed Rocky, the park ranger they had met in Bright Falls, who waved to them excitedly from the table he had reserved.

One More Thing!

 

 

Greg's Birthday Steak Cake...RFK copied him!

Gutfeld! 1/16/25

The Lineup: Kennedy, Walter Kirn, Sherrod Small, and Sean Davis!

 

 

Gutfeld: Sherrod, you sleep on the beach, don't you?

Sherrod: Oh, sometimes. Coney Island. They give out free Nathan's hot dogs over there during the day.