Last evening I received what is, by my count, the last of the homing
pigeons I supplied to Flash Mildew when he departed on his world tour
last November. Although the missive does not mention his current
location, I judge by the condition of the bird that he has returned
to North America.
Instead of the usual unusual trick, which I would aggregate
into the may-be-released-someday volume currently titled "202 Ways to
Force an Audience to Walk Out on Your Act", the good Mr. Mildew has
collected a list of phrases spoken to him on his tour that transcend
language barriers to let the magi know exactly the level of wonder
that his act has instilled within the audience. Some performers would
take these as insults. Flash takes whatever he can get.
Are you doing "Bill in Lemon", or is your nose jaundiced?
Nice tuxedo -- dollar days at K-Mart?
Can you go back to the part where I count down to the sum of the
digits of my social security number and then spell my mother's
maiden name?
That used to be my favorite trick, until I saw you do it.
I know Mark Wilson... and you, sir, are no Mark Wilson.
You're Flash Mildew, aren't you?
If you had any more wood in your act, you'd need a termite
inspection.
Did Marshall Brodien show that one to you?
No really, you are Flash Mildew -- admit it.
Your French Drop looks like a starfish molesting a bagel.
