Tonight starts the last weekend of performances for the dinky little cabaret I’m doing. I will dress up in my finest and in a couple hours I’ll be strutting across the stage belting out (to the extent that I belt, which is minimal; my technique might more accurately be described as Sans-A-Belt) lyrics like this:
I’ve got a tiny little pot
A little pot with tiny bells
A magic nose who sniffs and tells
And all of this we made ourselves
To entertain the princess
Ah! Ooh! It sings and dances too!
A veritable hit parade
To which your guests can promenade
While they sip their lemonade
And eat their blintzes
Seriously. Go ahead and get that cocktail you’re suddenly craving. I’ll wait. Yes, I’ll be right here, humming the ineradicable goddamn song about dancing cookware that will never, ever leave my head.
In fact, bring me a cocktail too. Make mine a double.