F*/Marry/Kill Starring: The Conners

RoseanneThe only rule is that you have to pick one of the immediate Conners women living in the house.   Saying “I’d F* Jackie” is out.  Every guy wants to tag Laurie Metcalf; that’s like saying I wanna bang Megan Fox.  Uh duh.  (F* Jackie… Baba booey).

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F*:

This might surprise you, but I’m going with Darlene.

Thanks for Keeping My Seat Warm, Old Man

So we’re hanging out, watching a Bulls game.  She’s draped in the crochet-throw from the back of the couch.  I get wood.  She then mentions that Derrick Rose can push the ball, but he’s got no jumper from the right of the key.  I lose wood.

“Do you want some,” she says, holding up the throw.  “Oh, I want some.  But I ain’t talking about a blanket…if you know what I mean,”  I say, then growl like a wild cat.  She rolls her eyes and stands up.  “Easy, Casanova. I was gonna give you some anyway.”

We tiptoe upstairs when another door opens.  Becky!  “Darlene, you have a boy here?  Oh my God, I’m telling mom.”  “Go ahead and tell mom,” Darlene barks back. Becky rolls her eyes.  “You shoulda stuck with David,” she says under her breath.

Minus a lecture on how my brand of Jimmyz aren’t bio-degradable, the sex is actually amazing.  She won’t do it with the lights on, but she’s real into trying whatever.  After we finish, she sparks up a j and asks if I want to “take a toke off of this refer.”

Turns out that wasn’t just bad writing; they actually talk like that in Lanford.

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Marry:

After taking the pot with Darlene, Roseanne makes me the best grilled cheese sandwich I’ve ever had.  I’m smitten.

Looks and Personality... Double Threat

The reception is down at the Elk’s Lodge.  The party only set me back 600 bucks since Roseanne got the Lanford Luncheonette to cater the whole thing.

The highlight of the night is me dancing with the bride’s sister (you haven’t lived until you’ve whispered into Laurie Metcalf’s ear, “God, you smell amazing”).

The first few months are filled with trips to Wal Mart and TJ Maxx; Always about making two ends meet.  Even with my high-paying blog writing job, there never seems to be enough.  But every day is still a Loggins-and-Messina-Danny’s-Song moment. Our love makes me the richest man in the world.

Then, the mistake of a lifetime.

I’m three hours in to an epic Conners poker game.  It’s me, Leon, Arnie and Mark.  I’m down big, six bucks, but I’m holding a straight. Arnie calls.  “I’ll see your 2.75, and I’ll raise you a buck.”  He knows I don’t have that kind of money.  “Then put up a night with Rosie…” A night with my wife?  The most indecent proposal… but I’m holding a straight.  Done.  I throw down.  So does he.  Full house, deuces over kings.

Roseanne doesn’t take the news well.  I get the boot.  Once in a while I bump into her at the Firehouse on Bingo Night, or at the dollar store on Rt. 7.  She has a look of scorn like you could never imagine.  On Valentines Day I sent her a mix CD.  16 tracks, all the same song… Danny’s Song.

I miss you, Big’ums.

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Kill:

Becky thought I forgot the little “you shoulda stuck with David” comment.  Now she’s gonna die.

lecyI know that she picks her loser husband up at work every night at seven.  So I hang out in the shadows of the garage, waiting for her pull up.   At five till, low and behold…

I lie in wait.  I can hear “Another Day in Paradise” blaring from her car before she shuts it off.  This bitch is going down.

Suddenly, I hear the garage door rolling down for the night. It’s Mark.  I jump from the shadows and tackle Becky.  “Shoulda stuck with David, huh?”

Then I feel a kick in the back that must’ve come from Thor himself. I look up; it’s Dan Conner. Damn, I forgot he worked here too. “This is for banging my daughter,” he says, then punches me so hard in my chest that my shoulders touch.

When I come to, I’m on a gurney, flooded in the lights of an ambulance.  I look around at what looks like the entire town of Lanford sans George Clooney.  Bonnie, Crystal and Nancy are consoling Becky.  Dan is giving his account of the story to Officer Harris (God, Jackie looks so hot in that uniform).

Look For Laurie in Next Month's Issue of Maxim

As they lift me into the ambulance I suddenly see Roseanne.  We lock eyes for a moment and I yell out, “Even though we ain’t got money, I’m so in love with you honey…”

The ambulance doors shut between us and the siren wails in the night.

F*/Marry/Kill Starring the Golden Girls

in-the-kitchen

The only rule is that Dorothy and Ma come as a packaged deal; f*, marry or kill, doesn’t matter.  Them Petrillos are inseparable.

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F*:
The safe bet here seems like Blanche, right?   I’m going with Rose.

It’s a late night.  Rose and I finish Bringing Up Baby on AMC (she likes romantic comedies; I’m trying to get in her pants).   She asks me if I’d like to go into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.  I tell her I’d rather go back to her room.  “Oh,” she says, and smiles coyly.

She says she’s going to freshen up and… slip into something a little more comfortable.  I get chub.

"You look amazing," Earl said

"You look amazing," Earl said

Suddenly she appears in the doorway wearing a nightgown that somehow reveals less than the jogging suit she changed out of.

craftmatic-bed

The sex is okay.  At one point, I accidentally roll on the remote for the  Craftmatic Bed.  The foot of the bed raises and messes up my rhythm.  She takes a long time, and I’m kind of chafed by the end of it.

We spend the rest of the night spooning.  As soon as she’s asleep, I roll out.  Let a butcher butch, y’all.

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MARRY:
So I go with Blanche for this one rather than the f*.

The first three months go well… a lot of trips to AC Moore filled with laughter and a lot of early dinners (like a quarter-to-five-early).

But many nights I want to sleep while Blanche wants to “go out.”  My mind races as I lie awake, waiting for her to come home.  Oh, Blanche, don’t take your love to town.

miles

Silver Fox or Home Wrecker?

Then Miles Webster starts coming around again.  He’s Rose’s friend, but I know he nailed my wife.  A man can just sense these things.

One night, in the darkness of our room, I blurt out: “Who’s a better lay, me or Miles?”  She groans and says Big Daddy was right: never marry a Yankee.  That means Miles is.

The next few months are rocky.  Every once in a while it seems like things are getting better, but my insecurities haunt me and I end up saying something snide about my wife, the village bicycle.

The divorce is uneventful.  I didn’t bring anything into the relationship.   At one point I tried to make an argument for the wicker furniture in the living room, but I never got very far.

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KILL:
Damn it, there I go thinking with my small head again, and drafting poorly.

I should’ve took Rose.  Instead I gotta take out two of them.  One of them is practically a man.

roll-into-the-kitchenI hang out in the kitchen with the lights off.  Rose is in St. Olaf at a cow-themed wedding.  Blanche is out, probably with Miles.  Hours pass until I finally hear Dorothy talking to Ma.  Their voices become more audible as they get closer.  And then the kitchen door swings wide.

“Oh my God,” Dorothy exclaims.

We stare at one another before I lunge at her.  Despite her old age and sex, I struggle to wrestle her to the floor.  As we grapple, I realize that I am losing my footing.  She’s winning this thing.  I’m about to go to plan b when all of a sudden… BANG.  Sophia rocks me upside the head with a frying pan.  Rock a bye, baby.  I’m out cold.

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CONCLUSION:
I’m on an ambulance stretcher outside the house.  Neighbors gather in the wee hours of the night to see what’s going on.  My eyes first focus on Dorothy, still visibly shaken and hugging her ex-husband, Stan Zbornak.  Sophia is next to her, quietly whispering, “it’s okay, pussycat.”

Paramedics start asking me questions.  Do you know where you are?  That sort of thing.

Earl the Butcher Was Here

THAT'S MY WIFE YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!

As they lift me into the back of the ambulance, I see a couple walking towards the scene.  Clutching hands, they jog as fast two old people can.

It’s Blanche and Miles.  She gasps when she recognizes me.

With two fingers, I point to my eyes before pointing back at her.

I’m watching you, Blanche.   I’m watching you like a hawk.