Saturday on the Beach with Roscoe
As many of you know, much of my time nowadays is spent writing for a new TV show that will air on SpikeTV this summer. I get to sit in a little cramped office with other comedy writers, alternately hurling insults at one another and reverently dissassembling the masterworks our of comedy forefathers. It's good fun.
Occasionally, they let us out of our dank little cells. Saturday was one of those rare moments. I had written a bit in which we tested the chick-attracting qualities of various animals. The theory was, a dog tends to get a lot of attention from women, what about other creatures? In my bit, some poor sap got to take a variety of creatures out to see what attention he got from the ladies.
What I didn't suspect was that the producers decided that poor sap should be me. That's why, early on a Sunday morning I was fitted with a hidden microphone and introduced to a variety of animals at Balboa beach south of Los Angeles.
Dressed for The Beach
First up was a dog. It was a simple plan. I would let the little weiner dog walk up to women and I would introduce him. His name was Roscoe. He was actually my grandmother's dog, but she died. I was taking care of him. Oh, by the way, could I have your phone number?
Opus and Roscoe The Dog
Unfortunately, with such an early start, there weren't many women on the beach yet. Those that were there were with their families. I did my best. I asked a woman for her phone number, but she politely turned me down and told me about her grandchildren. I wasn't too broken up that I didn't get the digits.
Time to move on. Let's try a duck.
Opus and Roscoe The Duck
This is Roscoe, I explained. He was my grandmother's duck, but she died. Now I'm watching him. Unfortunately, the duck couldn't walk on his own on the beach, so I had to carry him under my arm. This made it difficult to use him as a conversation tool without thrusting him in people's faces. Most adults seemed disinterested. Children, however, couldn't wait to pet Roscoe with their sandy little hands.
Birds don't beget birds. Let's go quadropedal again. Like... a pig.
Opus and Roscoe The Pig
This... is... Roscoe. He was my Grandmothers.... okay, here's the thing. This pig squealed. Not a cute oink or a pleasant tune like Babe might sing. This pig squealed like I was beating it with a mop handle. This pig was not happy to strolling down the beach. I was getting looks like I was a pig-abuser, from people who, no doubt, had earlier that day scarfed down Roscoe's cousin in an Egg McMuffin.
I could barely even hear myself speak when I had the pig with me. People began to glare at me with scorn and disgust. I tried to adopt this into a bad boy attitude, but even that didn't woo the ladies. Lesson learned - ladies don't like fellas who abuse pigs. Particularly jewish ladies.
Of course, the next logical step is.... llama.
Opus and Roscoe the Llama
The llama was a huge hit. When you've got a huge furry animal strolling through the sunbathers and beach umbrellas, you catch a lot of attention. People were really interested in the llama. I was very polite to them. I told them "This is Roscoe. He was my grandmother's llama, but she died, and now I'm taking care of him."
I got a lot of llama related questions. Being that I was playing the part of a llama owner, I tried to answer them with authority, even though I didn't know anything. I said he was a North American Mountain Llama. I don't think such a thing exists. I asked ladies if they could knit, because I had a constant supply of wool. The llama won over a lot of fans, and of all the animals, was the most cooperative.
Next step... The Gimp.
Okay, so I don't have any pictures of the Gimp. You're going to have to tune in to see exactly how that one went down. Walking a man in leather and a ball-gag down the beach was quite an experience. One that will surely haunt me if I ever run for office, pictures or not.
I love my life sometimes. I just got paid to hang out with a duck, a dog, a pig, a llama and a gimp. And to hit on girls in bikinis. Although I didn't get any phone numbers. And here's the worst part - I think The Gimp got some.
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