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1:00am The hummmm of the air conditioner was the only sound that could be heard. Plook quitely made his way from door to door down the heavily carpeted hallway, he struck a pose, deftly swiped his key card and quickly let himself into the hotel room, spinning around and checking the peephole as he silently closed the door, all clear Plook was elated, all the way to the ice machine in the lobby and back completely unseen. It was one of the little games he liked to play when he was on tour. To fight off the loneliness, Plook would slip into his Spiderman suit, raid the mini bar, sometimes not in that order, and creep around the hotel in the middle of the night, either stealing cleaning products from the janitors closet or playing hide and seek with Gary, if he was along on tour with him.
Very few people new that when Plook was away on tour he was visiting what he always thought of as a secret America, an America very few of her citizens ever saw or were even aware existed. An America that over the years had developed its own language, a language that was not taught in the schools of the USA. An America consisting of a myriad of anonymous offices conversely huge and bright or tiny and dim or vise versa, coincidentally much like the occupants of the offices themselves. An America of air travel, hire cars, expense accounts and comped hotel rooms. There was a scratching at the door, Plook checked the peephole, it was Gary, ha ha last again, with a grunt a fart and clouds of fur Gary barged into the room the instant that Plook cracked the door, Gary charged at speed straight across the room headbutting a large paper sack with such force he caused a mini eruption of dog biscuits, which he gobbled up noislely. Plook entered the bathroom and with a loud sigh and ignoring his doctors orders sat down to pee. As Plook relieved himself he let his mind drift, he shivered and an involuntary smile crossed his face as his bladder emptied and he thought of tomorrows appointments. The legendary Plook, on the outside the solid buttoned down profesional, but beneath his exquisitely taylored clothes, obviously chosen by Mrs Plook, he was wearing a Spiderman suit. In the other room Gary began to cough and gurgle as he regurgitated the half chewed dog biscuits into a neat pile by the trouser press. After his body stopped heaving and looking left and right for possible attack Gary immediately began to re eat the moist mound of Purena. Sometime later Plook fired up his laptop, sent a e mail home, whipped off a few posts on Zappa.com then googled bed side manners, and went to sleep watching you tube clips on the subject.
At 8:00am The Legendary Plook with a suitcase and Gary in tow made his way across the hotel lobby, with a salute, James (Jimi to his mates) a member of the night hotel security detail held the door open for Plook, and as he walked through Jimi said "have a nice day Spiderman, Sir".
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Thanks for the music Frank.
Well I'm about to get sick from watching my TV
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