Wang Chung: Absinth
the original, circa 2003: Wang Chung: Lord of the Monkeys
She was only two years older then me, but somehow she was able to gain attention better than anyone I had ever known. Maybe it was her long, straight hair which was as dark as the tar pits that the construction workers brew basketball courts from. Maybe it was her silky smooth skin, which was finer then any silk in the Middle East. Most sensible people would contribute it to her ability to shoot antique cans off of a fence from five dozen paces away however.
“Crackle, get outta the way,” she yelled in a commanding, but angelic, voice.
“Sorry Pop,” my younger brother replied as he hurried over towards me.
We watched, along with the rest of the boys and men in the vicinity, as Pop shot off another round at the cans, nailing them one by one. After she was finished, she ignored the gawking males and joined Crackle and I as we began to head home to the townhouse, lighting up a cigarette in the process.
“Ya know, that’ll kill ya.”
“Oh Snap, live life for all it’s worth,” she replied to me.
Minutes later, Pop carefully unlocked the door to the townhouse and we walked in as we often did that time of day. Unlike other days, there was something different about this one. Something small, but different, and very very green.
“What the hell is that?!?” Crackle was pointing into the kitchen, where a small, green man was sitting on the edge of the countertop.
“Looks like a midget,” I answered, proceeding to step closer. “Looks like it’s sleeping.”
“What’s that smell?” my brother asked.
“Liquor,” Pop quickly replied as she took in a whiff or two of the atmosphere. “More specifically, Absinth.”
Suddenly, the small man awoke and looked at us in a stupor. “Did someone say my name?”
“I said Absinth,” Pop responded.
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” the small man said.
“What are you?” Crackle chimed in again.
“I’m a frickin fairy, what do you think? I don’t appreciate being woken up when I’m trying to recover.” He was suddenly angry.
“Recover from what?” Crackle asked.
“You ask too many dumb questions kid. My name is Absinth and I’m a fairy. What do you think I’m recovering from? I’m drunk off my ass!”
“That explains the stench,” Pop mumbled under her breath.
“That’s enough outta you kids,” the green, self-proclaimed fairy said as he stood his 16-inch stature up on the countertop. “You guys are all getting sent to Djibouti for disturbing my hangover.”
With the wave of his empty martini glass, the three of us were surrounded by a lush canvas of green. Leaves, brush, vines and plants that were taller than most men stood all around us. Suddenly, the silkiness of Pop’s skin was nothing compared to the large leaves nearby.
“Are we really in Africa?” Crackle asked.
“Shut up. Look what your questions got us into now,” Pop turned and chirped at him. The frustration and fear were showing on her face. “How are we going to get back from Africa?!?”
“You aren’t in Africa,” said a stern and calm voice from behind us. We turned to see a man who’s hair was as wild as fire, and was just as bright. His long mustache nearly intertwined with his large bush of hair. We had not seen him before because his vest was as green as the plants around him. “You’re in Butte, Montana.”
“Who are you and how can we get out of here?” Pop asked, still obviously frustrated.
“I am Wang Chung, lord of the monkeys,” the wild man stated with pride. “Who are you?”
“I am Pop, and these are my brothers Snap and Crackle.”
“Snap, Crackle and Pop?” he repeated to himself. “I feel like I should be eating breakfast now. Your hair is blacker than my morning coffee.”
Taking the latter as a compliment, my sister smiled a row of pearl white teeth and asked the strange man again, “How can we get out of here?”
“I know how you got here, and there is only one group that can help you now,” Wang Chung stated. “We want everyone to live life to the fullest, so that is our mission.”
“Who is we?” Crackle questioned the strange man. Crackle’s eyes never left the fiery hair that whipped around in the wind about Wang Chung’s head.
“The Alcoholics Rehabilitation Corporation of course.”
“ARC?” I asked. “Isn’t that a little cliché for a rehabilitation group?”
“Being named after the mascots for Rice Krispies, you have no room to talk,” Wang Chung answered with a grin on his face.
“So what do we have to do?” Pop asked.
“Well, the little green man who sent you here had to come with you, so you need to find him first,” Wang Chung instructed. “Then call for me.”
“Where should we look?” asked Crackle.
“I know,” Pop replied.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
As Pop walked into the one and only bar in Butte, Montana, she saw the small green man at a stool in the corner. As before, he appeared in a drunken stupor, but this time he was awake, but dozing off. She walked over in a gentle glide that went undetected by the fairy Absinth and snatched his empty martini glass as he was fully awoken.
“Hey, what gives? That’s mine,” he bellowed in his own small voice.
“You’re taking us back home right now,” Pop stated as she turned and walked out of the bar with his glass. He followed.
As soon as they both passed through the doorway, Crackle and I pounced on him with a double-duty plastic bag from Meijer and restrained him.
“Let me out! I’ll do whatever you want,” cried the evil fairy.
“You’ve got that right,” came the familiar voice of Wang Chung from around the corner. He stepped forth to reveal himself. “Are you ready to join ARC?”
“Nooo, not that. I’ll lose my powers and my namesake,” Absinth cried out.
“Oh boo,” said Wang Chung as he snatched the bag and disappeared in the blink of an eye. In another blink, Crackle, Pop and I were back in our townhouse’s kitchen.
“What just happened?” Crackle asked.
“Beats me, but what’s this on the counter?” Pop responded as she walked over towards her small discovery. There lie small piece of paper, weighed down by a bottle of Absinth liquor.
The note read, “As you are now home, the fairy Absinth is now a rehabilitated alcoholic. In this bottle the remainder of his alcohol-inhabited blood. -Wang Chung.”
The three of us looked at the bottle.
“Blood? It looks as if it was just store bought from the Quik-E-Mart,” I stated.
“There’s only one way to find out,” smiled Pop as she popped the cork.
Leave your name and
1. I'll respond with something random about you.
2. I'll tell you what song/movie reminds me of you.
3. I'll pick a flavor of jello to wrestle with you in.
4. I'll say something that only makes sense to you and me.
5. I'll tell you my first/clearest memory of you.
6. I'll tell you what animal you remind me of.
7. I'll ask you something that I've always wondered about you.