So, I’m sitting at the bar the other night and I noticed that the guy sitting next to me was Tommy Vercetti from Grand Theft Auto: Vice City. I knew that just about anything could set him off on a rampage, so I kept my mouth shut and started to ease off the barstool and out the door. Just when I thought I might get away unnoticed, the drunken blonde on the other side of me says “Tommmmyyyy! I love you!” and when he looked over at her, he saw me.

 “YOU! Zappa! I know you! You’re the SOB who got me killed 47 times in a row storming the military base trying to steal the assault helicopter! Unnecessary! You’re the one who kept me running all over the map shooting old ladies with a bazooka! Disgusting!” growled the angry avatar. “Of all the antisocial jerks who ever took over the game controls and played me, you’re the worst, Zappa! Jesus, man! You must have lived in your parents’ basement all your life!”

 I knew Vercetti had at least a half dozen guns on him, plus a chainsaw, hand grenades and flamethrower, and if he got really pissed, he would get his tank. This was going to be the toughest fight I ever had. I looked over at the bartender to see if he had my back, and I saw that he was the barkeeper from The Shining. “Hello, Zoid, I’m Lloyd.“ he sez,  “Your old lady, Stormy is a real bitch, you know.”

 The drunken blonde on my right whispered angrily “I am never going anywhere with you again when you are frying. You always get like this.” I thought she looked a lot like Mary, and then I realized that it was Mary, and that the hallucinogens were wearing off. “I’m leaving.” she sniffed, “Going back to the office” She huffed out the door, and I realized I had totally stopped paying attention to anything she said about ten minutes ago. Having thusly solved my problems with communication with the world, I tried to regain my former buzz, but alas, it was not to be. When it’s gone, it’s gone. So, I started to write this song about it:

The Buzz is Gone (Sung to the tune of “The Thrill is Gone”)

Oh, my buzz is gone,

Baby, gone, gone, gone

You left me here on my own,

Oh baby, but my buzz is gone,

Gone, gone, gone.

Oh, woe, woe, woe,

Baby, gone, gone, gone.

 I had at least a dozen or more great verses like this one in mind, but I ran out out of space on the cocktail napkin I was writing on, and Tommy Vercetti turned back into Jason wearing a Hawaiian shirt and spilled his beer on it. “Dude!” he said. “I went to Alpha Centauri and sold them some pot, and they gave me, like, 50 billion dollars for it because there was none on their planet. Anyway, now I can’t figure out how to get the money back here. They gave it to me in five dollar bills, so it’s way more than I can carry. Becky is really mad at me, and maybe if I buy her a car she will like me again. Fifty billion dollars is a lot of money, right? I should be able to get a cool car with that. But how do I get the money back here?”

 I left him at the bar in conversation with himself. Personally, I don’t talk to myself anymore, I am far too much of a smartass to listen. There were lots of both tourists and locals outside on Haight Street, and it looked wonderfully familiar, like an old friend or your smelly faded jacket. I walked until I left the neon behind and got back to our offices. Mary was there, reviewing a game and painting her toenails. She glanced up at me as I passed her doorway. “Hi, Rocket Man,” she said. “I just got Captain Galaxy killed.”

 My logic was a little fuzzy at this point, so I didn’t ask her who the Captain was. Some things are better left as a mystery. I went back to my office and found Stormy asleep on my couch. I grunted at her to scoot over and Her Evilness arose hissing. “Did you get us an air mattress like you said you’d do? I don’t see one. If you had sold your truck, the house wouldn’t have gotten foreclosed, and we wouldn’t have to sleep here in your office.” She paused to inhale. ”Mary is online playing some kind of game in the next office with the sound way up and it keeps making this screeching noise like Lady Gaga in pain! These walls are thin, and I can hear it! Can you hear it? Because it’s making my head hurt. Tell her to go home. What? Her, too? Oh, God. Did she lose her furniture, too? Damn. Pack a bowl. Hey, Maryyyyy!”

 I knew that Lloyd was wrong...I have a prize with my old lady.

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