3/12/2005
Nobody Wants to Meet Kelsey Grammer
She was twenty, twenty-two and had a chest like twin copies of Danson's bald head. She leaned over to me, and said, "What show were you on again?"
"Cheers, baby!" I said. "Nineteen eighty-two to 1993. Widely considered to be one of the greatest sit-coms ever. James Burrows, Glen Charles, Les Charles. 'Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name'. Y'know, Cheers."
"I was eight in 1993," she said.
"And my how you've grown, sweetheart!" I said. "You're making me grow just looking at you."
She backed up a little, to take in every inch of me. "Ah... You said Fraiser used to be on it, this Cheers show?"
"Yeah, baby. Grammer and I are like this!"
"Who's Grammer?" she said.
"Nobody," I said. "Fraiser and I are like this!"
"Can I meet him?" she said.
"Well," I said, and leaned back against the bar. "That really depends on how far down your throat you can get my dick."
"Oh, my God," she said, stumbling backwards. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God." Just over and over again, "Oh, my God." She turned and ran, her hand over her mouth.
Kelsey Grammer's a pompous twit. That's why nobody really wants to meet him.
Posted by George at 9:53 PM
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