My buddies and I were having a chat in the middle of a three way intersection one night, and I was introduced to the game "Truth or Truth," a get-to-know-you sort of activity. We exchanged numerous revealing questions until, finally, I was pegged with this gem: "What is your Randy Newman sexual fantasy?" Thanks Ben.
My Randy Newman Sexual Fantasy
The field is open, lush, and green. In the distance, one can see the faint imprint of mountains silhouetted against a damp grey sky. In the field there is a sleak black piano and one apple tree, which is unfortunately infected with Canker. The sunken, discoloured patches on the brittle, flaking bark ominously reminds one of the inedible fruit. Randy Newman plays "Short People" across the plain. Here is where I listen and lean on the black piano, glowing in the grey light. Before the end of this musical adventure Newman slams his fists onto the keys and proclaims, "Whale meat is for school children!" He leaves his seat as the sun peeks out from behind grey clouds. I am wisked from the piano and thrown upon the soft ground. A giant purple squid rises from the dirt and begins to tear Randy Newman's piano apart in shrills of happiness, galavanting in euphoria. The apple tree's decrepit bark peels away to reveal a portal to an alternate dimension, the entrance by which a massive army of giant pink dildos marches across our universe on their swollen ballsacks like some twisted scene from Disney's Fantasia. A mechanical seahorse drills a hole into the clouded sky on a perilous journey to destroy the sun. Randy Newman and I make love under the gentle rain of the pieces of his destroyed piano. Then the sun explodes and everyone dies except me and Randy Newman, and we play Quelf until the Bible magic wears off and our offspring can no longer mate with eachother without consequence.
So what's yours?