Purple Spaghetti
Or how to tell the most absurd joke I know:
Purple spaghetti.
(For those of you who just rolled your eyes, please don't leave. I've only included the actual joke at the end for those who have never heard it.)
It's a joke that inherently ties into my sense of the absurd: miles of anticipation and a zag instead of a zig. But it isn't just the absurdism of the joke, or how it plays into my love of writing structure. Like any joke, it also benefits from the way it is told. So if once you've scrolled to the bottom (or if you already know the joke,) here are some pieces of advice, when telling the tale of purple spaghetti.
The Keys to Telling Purple Spaghetti (Or how to make an intolerable joke work:)
1. Speed:
I think the longest time it ever took me to tell purple spaghetti was probably around ten minutes. I think if you are going to tell a ten minute joke, it should probably result it a lot of laughter.
Purple spaghetti is not that joke.
However, if you cut too much, the absurdity is lost, and the point of the joke is how long it takes to tell, so you can't just cut the marine neighbor because people's eyes are glazing over.
So the best option is to make sure to tell it at about five minutes: enough time to get people involved, but not so long that they will hunt you down with a baseball bat after.
2. Devilish details:
This ties in with speed: long jokes have a lot of detail. They also have a lot of repetition. So when you do decide to tell purple spaghetti, you can certainly go with the plain chicken breast version. I prefer a little of salt and pepper on mine, with a twist of lemon. (I switch to the dad at the beginning, my neighbor marine is just a grizzled old guy.) It's whatever makes you comfortable within the joke. It's also a bit like the knock knock joke that ends in 'orange you glad I didn't say banana?'--you have to invest yourself in it, have to make yourself believe before you can engage others.
3. Keep a straight face:
Like any absurd joke, the fun in telling it is fooling those who have never heard it. However, if you are like me, then you have to school yourself into not letting people know what you are about to do to them.
Do not giggle, or smirk, or start to squirm in anticipation. It's okay to let people know that you love the joke. It's not okay t. let them realize you've led them on a snipe hunt. Much like the joke itself, you must be serious until the very end. And then you can hasten your words, because hopefully right before the punchline, people have caught up with you, and they may see what's coming. But don't crack yet!
Say those last words, let them hang, mic drop.
4. Small groups are best:
This is not a comedy club joke. You do not want to alienate an audience, so just don't. No. Not even the small smoky club in the middle of nowhere.
This is a joke you tell your friends. Acquaintances. (Aside: to my future husband, I know we belong together when you adopt this joke as your own. Love you.)
It works best in small groups because of the intimacy. It's far easier to draw four people into the spell than to wow a crowded room. It is a face to face joke.
Forewarning: if people do abandon you, don't let it get to you like it does Trevor. And if you do, don't forget to do what he did not.
Of course I'm going to break the rules, and give a rather lengthy detailed joke that works best face to face in writing to a large group of people and hope they actually keep me around another week despite it.
It is LJIdol after all.
There is a young man named Trevor. He's about six when his parents start arguing every night. One night, he hears his mother say something to his father:
"Purple spaghetti"
The next morning, there is a note on the table. Trevor's dad has left, and is asking for a divorce. His mother tries to comfort him with the usual lies, but his grades slip, and it gets to the point that even his best friend can't stand the moping anymore.
So Brian (Trevor's best friend) comes up to Timmy on the playground and asks him what's wrong.
Trevor responds "Well you know how my mom and dad are getting a divorce? I think it's something my mom said, but I don't know what it means."
Brian says, "Well what was it?"
Trevor looks around nervously, and says, "Purple spaghetti"
Brian immediately leaps on him and starts punching him in the face. Mrs. Crabtree, their teacher, takes Trevor to the nurse, and then back to the classroom, while Brian stays with the principal. As they walk down the hallway, Brian purposely turns his head away from Timmy.
They never speak again.
When they get back to the classroom, Mrs. Crabtree asks timmy what's going on. He's never been in a fight, and before the divorce his grades had been stellar.
"Tell me what's wrong," she says.
He shrugs.
"I was telling Brian about my mom and dad, and how my mom said something to him, and he just left. But when I told Brian what she said he just started beating on me and now I don't think he wants to be my friend anymore."
Trevor starts weeping, and Mrs. Crabtree pulls him close.
"You can tell me."
Trevor shakes his head.
"Hey, you're talking to someone who deals with glue eaters. Tell me."
Trevor sobs into her arms. "Purple spaghetti"
Mrs. Crabtree leaps up.
"Trevor James Smith, I cannot believe you would use such words in my classroom. I'm taking you back to the office and you are going to tell the principal exactly what you told me."
"But-"
"Don't you but me young man. I have never heard anything so reprehensible in my whole life."
Trevor glumly shuffles off to the principal's office, just missing Brian and his dad. His nose has started to bleed again, and he just can't figure out what's wrong.
Principal Wood looks at Timmy, and says, "You look terrible. I know you've had a rough few months, and I know you didn't start the fight. But those words you told Mrs. Crabtree: why?"
Trevor looks at Principal Wood and hopes she can see how confused and tired he is.
"But I don't understand, Principal Wood. It's just Purple spaghetti."
Principal Wood's eyes widen, "And to use them again, right here. That's it. You're suspended for a week. Let that simmer in your mind young man."
Trevor runs out of the office before the principal can call his mother. He runs all the way home, only slowing at the corner, because his neighbor will yell at him for being reckless otherwise, and tell him all the advice he should ever know.
"You are skipping school," his neighbor croaks from his porch.
Trevor looks up at the old man. Rumor says he's a war veteran, and that the age spots on his arm are actually faded tattoos, and that the limp is from a bullet wound. Mr. Jones's eyes are sharp enough, even if his clothes are wrinkly and his voice is almost gone.
"Got suspended," Trevor mumbles.
"Fighting?"
Trevor shakes his head, but doesn't elaborate. He just wants to go home and forget that any of this has happened.
"Tell me."
Trevor shakes his head again.
"I was a Marine, you know. Spent years over there. Almost lost my leg and heard more things in the hospital than you could ever think of. I don't bite you know."
Trevor looks at his neighbor, and remembers his shuffling gait.
"Well, you know how my mom and dad were fighting a lot, and got a divorce? I think it's cause my mom called my dad something one night and he just couldn't take it. But I told my best friend today and he beat me up on the playground. I told my teacher and she sent me to the principal. I told the principal and she suspended me for a week. It's pretty serious, this "purple spaghetti" thing."
Trevor never ran faster than that day. The day that 'old man Jones ran again' is how the neighborhood put it. Trevor never told anyone why. He was done telling people the story. He had to forget he ever knew the words "Purple spaghetti".
He got married, had a couple kids, and the whole incident had almost faded in his mind, when he saw Brian's picture in the paper. He had gotten some job at some high tech firm. It showed Brian with his first grade science fair prize. Trevor put his hand to his nose in reflex, and remembered.
Remembered to the point that he couldn't sleep.
One night, his wife asked him what was bothering him.
"I can't," Trevor says.
"You can. Two children and almost fifteen years of marriage? You can."
"Well, years ago, my mom and dad were fighting a lot, and one night, my mom said something to my dad. He left the next morning. I didn't know what the word meant, but I knew that it wasn't good. So one day I told my best friend and he beat me up and never spoke to me again. I told my teacher and she sent me to the principal and requested I switch classrooms. I told my principal and she suspended me for a week. I told my crippled old neighbor and he chased me across the yard with his cane threatening to whip me. I put it way for so long, but it's just been bothering me again."
"Well what was it?"
Trevor shook his head. His wife grinned, leaned in and whispered, "What was it?"
Trevor shook his head again, and his wife tickled him until he blurted it out: "Purple spaghetti".
His wife shrugged. "See now, that wasn't so bad."
The next morning he found a note on his bedside table:
"Trevor. I took the children to my mother's. Don't call me. Don't come here. I don't want to hear your voice ever again."
Understandably, Trevor took it hard. He finally decided to see a hypnotist to see if they could make him forget.
"So you just want to forget a phrase?" The hypnotist asks.
Trevor nods. "Unless you can tell me what it means so I can find out why it's so bad.
"Why don't you tell me a little? I have to know if I am going to make you forget."
Trevor licks his lips "Can I pay you first so you don't back out?"
"Sure."
Trevor hands over the money, and has the hypnotist sign an agreement to treat him no matter what.
Trevor sits down in the chair.
"Well, years ago, my mom and dad were fighting a lot, and one night, my mom said something to my dad. He left the next morning. I didn't know what the word meant, but I knew that it wasn't good. So one day I told my best friend and he beat me up and never spoke to me again. I told my teacher and she sent me to the principal and requested I switch classrooms. I told my principal and she suspended me for a week. I told my crippled old neighbor and he chased me across the yard with his cane threatening to whip me. I told my wife, and she took the kids to her mother's house, and I haven't heard a word in three months. I just don't know what to do anymore."
"I see," said the hypnotist. "And the words?"
"Purple spaghetti," Trevor whispers.
"Oh yeah, purple spaghetti," the hypnotist says. "My sister uses that all the time, but she's never told me what it means."
"Are you serious?"
"Sure, she's just across the street. Her name is Lily, and tell her her stinking brother sent you. She tends bar, so don't mind the language.
Trevor takes the address, feeling for the first time, relief.
He sees the bar across the street, and knows his answer is finally there. As he crosses, a truck runs him over and he dies.
Moral of the story? Look both ways before you cross the street.
Purple spaghetti.
(For those of you who just rolled your eyes, please don't leave. I've only included the actual joke at the end for those who have never heard it.)
It's a joke that inherently ties into my sense of the absurd: miles of anticipation and a zag instead of a zig. But it isn't just the absurdism of the joke, or how it plays into my love of writing structure. Like any joke, it also benefits from the way it is told. So if once you've scrolled to the bottom (or if you already know the joke,) here are some pieces of advice, when telling the tale of purple spaghetti.
The Keys to Telling Purple Spaghetti (Or how to make an intolerable joke work:)
1. Speed:
I think the longest time it ever took me to tell purple spaghetti was probably around ten minutes. I think if you are going to tell a ten minute joke, it should probably result it a lot of laughter.
Purple spaghetti is not that joke.
However, if you cut too much, the absurdity is lost, and the point of the joke is how long it takes to tell, so you can't just cut the marine neighbor because people's eyes are glazing over.
So the best option is to make sure to tell it at about five minutes: enough time to get people involved, but not so long that they will hunt you down with a baseball bat after.
2. Devilish details:
This ties in with speed: long jokes have a lot of detail. They also have a lot of repetition. So when you do decide to tell purple spaghetti, you can certainly go with the plain chicken breast version. I prefer a little of salt and pepper on mine, with a twist of lemon. (I switch to the dad at the beginning, my neighbor marine is just a grizzled old guy.) It's whatever makes you comfortable within the joke. It's also a bit like the knock knock joke that ends in 'orange you glad I didn't say banana?'--you have to invest yourself in it, have to make yourself believe before you can engage others.
3. Keep a straight face:
Like any absurd joke, the fun in telling it is fooling those who have never heard it. However, if you are like me, then you have to school yourself into not letting people know what you are about to do to them.
Do not giggle, or smirk, or start to squirm in anticipation. It's okay to let people know that you love the joke. It's not okay t. let them realize you've led them on a snipe hunt. Much like the joke itself, you must be serious until the very end. And then you can hasten your words, because hopefully right before the punchline, people have caught up with you, and they may see what's coming. But don't crack yet!
Say those last words, let them hang, mic drop.
4. Small groups are best:
This is not a comedy club joke. You do not want to alienate an audience, so just don't. No. Not even the small smoky club in the middle of nowhere.
This is a joke you tell your friends. Acquaintances. (Aside: to my future husband, I know we belong together when you adopt this joke as your own. Love you.)
It works best in small groups because of the intimacy. It's far easier to draw four people into the spell than to wow a crowded room. It is a face to face joke.
Forewarning: if people do abandon you, don't let it get to you like it does Trevor. And if you do, don't forget to do what he did not.
Of course I'm going to break the rules, and give a rather lengthy detailed joke that works best face to face in writing to a large group of people and hope they actually keep me around another week despite it.
It is LJIdol after all.
There is a young man named Trevor. He's about six when his parents start arguing every night. One night, he hears his mother say something to his father:
"Purple spaghetti"
The next morning, there is a note on the table. Trevor's dad has left, and is asking for a divorce. His mother tries to comfort him with the usual lies, but his grades slip, and it gets to the point that even his best friend can't stand the moping anymore.
So Brian (Trevor's best friend) comes up to Timmy on the playground and asks him what's wrong.
Trevor responds "Well you know how my mom and dad are getting a divorce? I think it's something my mom said, but I don't know what it means."
Brian says, "Well what was it?"
Trevor looks around nervously, and says, "Purple spaghetti"
Brian immediately leaps on him and starts punching him in the face. Mrs. Crabtree, their teacher, takes Trevor to the nurse, and then back to the classroom, while Brian stays with the principal. As they walk down the hallway, Brian purposely turns his head away from Timmy.
They never speak again.
When they get back to the classroom, Mrs. Crabtree asks timmy what's going on. He's never been in a fight, and before the divorce his grades had been stellar.
"Tell me what's wrong," she says.
He shrugs.
"I was telling Brian about my mom and dad, and how my mom said something to him, and he just left. But when I told Brian what she said he just started beating on me and now I don't think he wants to be my friend anymore."
Trevor starts weeping, and Mrs. Crabtree pulls him close.
"You can tell me."
Trevor shakes his head.
"Hey, you're talking to someone who deals with glue eaters. Tell me."
Trevor sobs into her arms. "Purple spaghetti"
Mrs. Crabtree leaps up.
"Trevor James Smith, I cannot believe you would use such words in my classroom. I'm taking you back to the office and you are going to tell the principal exactly what you told me."
"But-"
"Don't you but me young man. I have never heard anything so reprehensible in my whole life."
Trevor glumly shuffles off to the principal's office, just missing Brian and his dad. His nose has started to bleed again, and he just can't figure out what's wrong.
Principal Wood looks at Timmy, and says, "You look terrible. I know you've had a rough few months, and I know you didn't start the fight. But those words you told Mrs. Crabtree: why?"
Trevor looks at Principal Wood and hopes she can see how confused and tired he is.
"But I don't understand, Principal Wood. It's just Purple spaghetti."
Principal Wood's eyes widen, "And to use them again, right here. That's it. You're suspended for a week. Let that simmer in your mind young man."
Trevor runs out of the office before the principal can call his mother. He runs all the way home, only slowing at the corner, because his neighbor will yell at him for being reckless otherwise, and tell him all the advice he should ever know.
"You are skipping school," his neighbor croaks from his porch.
Trevor looks up at the old man. Rumor says he's a war veteran, and that the age spots on his arm are actually faded tattoos, and that the limp is from a bullet wound. Mr. Jones's eyes are sharp enough, even if his clothes are wrinkly and his voice is almost gone.
"Got suspended," Trevor mumbles.
"Fighting?"
Trevor shakes his head, but doesn't elaborate. He just wants to go home and forget that any of this has happened.
"Tell me."
Trevor shakes his head again.
"I was a Marine, you know. Spent years over there. Almost lost my leg and heard more things in the hospital than you could ever think of. I don't bite you know."
Trevor looks at his neighbor, and remembers his shuffling gait.
"Well, you know how my mom and dad were fighting a lot, and got a divorce? I think it's cause my mom called my dad something one night and he just couldn't take it. But I told my best friend today and he beat me up on the playground. I told my teacher and she sent me to the principal. I told the principal and she suspended me for a week. It's pretty serious, this "purple spaghetti" thing."
Trevor never ran faster than that day. The day that 'old man Jones ran again' is how the neighborhood put it. Trevor never told anyone why. He was done telling people the story. He had to forget he ever knew the words "Purple spaghetti".
He got married, had a couple kids, and the whole incident had almost faded in his mind, when he saw Brian's picture in the paper. He had gotten some job at some high tech firm. It showed Brian with his first grade science fair prize. Trevor put his hand to his nose in reflex, and remembered.
Remembered to the point that he couldn't sleep.
One night, his wife asked him what was bothering him.
"I can't," Trevor says.
"You can. Two children and almost fifteen years of marriage? You can."
"Well, years ago, my mom and dad were fighting a lot, and one night, my mom said something to my dad. He left the next morning. I didn't know what the word meant, but I knew that it wasn't good. So one day I told my best friend and he beat me up and never spoke to me again. I told my teacher and she sent me to the principal and requested I switch classrooms. I told my principal and she suspended me for a week. I told my crippled old neighbor and he chased me across the yard with his cane threatening to whip me. I put it way for so long, but it's just been bothering me again."
"Well what was it?"
Trevor shook his head. His wife grinned, leaned in and whispered, "What was it?"
Trevor shook his head again, and his wife tickled him until he blurted it out: "Purple spaghetti".
His wife shrugged. "See now, that wasn't so bad."
The next morning he found a note on his bedside table:
"Trevor. I took the children to my mother's. Don't call me. Don't come here. I don't want to hear your voice ever again."
Understandably, Trevor took it hard. He finally decided to see a hypnotist to see if they could make him forget.
"So you just want to forget a phrase?" The hypnotist asks.
Trevor nods. "Unless you can tell me what it means so I can find out why it's so bad.
"Why don't you tell me a little? I have to know if I am going to make you forget."
Trevor licks his lips "Can I pay you first so you don't back out?"
"Sure."
Trevor hands over the money, and has the hypnotist sign an agreement to treat him no matter what.
Trevor sits down in the chair.
"Well, years ago, my mom and dad were fighting a lot, and one night, my mom said something to my dad. He left the next morning. I didn't know what the word meant, but I knew that it wasn't good. So one day I told my best friend and he beat me up and never spoke to me again. I told my teacher and she sent me to the principal and requested I switch classrooms. I told my principal and she suspended me for a week. I told my crippled old neighbor and he chased me across the yard with his cane threatening to whip me. I told my wife, and she took the kids to her mother's house, and I haven't heard a word in three months. I just don't know what to do anymore."
"I see," said the hypnotist. "And the words?"
"Purple spaghetti," Trevor whispers.
"Oh yeah, purple spaghetti," the hypnotist says. "My sister uses that all the time, but she's never told me what it means."
"Are you serious?"
"Sure, she's just across the street. Her name is Lily, and tell her her stinking brother sent you. She tends bar, so don't mind the language.
Trevor takes the address, feeling for the first time, relief.
He sees the bar across the street, and knows his answer is finally there. As he crosses, a truck runs him over and he dies.
Moral of the story? Look both ways before you cross the street.