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Monster Media 1994 #1
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MAGAZINE
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A03
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1994-02-01
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2KB
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29 lines
Q> What will you do?
DAVID HOLLOWAY>
There is only one good reason that I would be called before such an
august assembly. They are there for my immortal bird immitations. Scoff
if you must, but among the cognescenti there is something almost
transcendental in a really fine bird immitation.
I stride purposefully to the microphone and give it a gentle tap
with my right forefinger, it cracks like a rifle shot and the house goes
still. I turn my back on the mike and shake out my shoulders and arms
several times at the same time smiling widely then pursing my lips
tightly in rapid succession. Hardly an adequate warm-up for the
grueling performance to come, but it will have to do.
Turning to face the microphone I raise my arms for total silence
and the entire audience of hundreds becomes completely silent- not a
cough or a cranky child to be heard. They are ready and I am too.
My left hand darts into my jacket pocket and arises with a
writhing mass of live nightcrawlers wich I rapidly stuff halfway into my
mouth, ignoring those which drop to my chest or the floor. I point my
elbows directly out from my body and hook my thumbs undet the lapels of
the dark blue jacket. I assume a slight crouch and bend slightly at teh
the waist while hopping rapidly across the stage and saying "Chirrrupp,
Chirrrupp, Chirp, Chirrupp,"
The applause is instant and cataclysmic the curtain slowly
descends and I make my way to the wings totally drained. Another
exhilerating performance- GOD I LOVE SHOW BIZ.