He was just a lonely skullopus, looking for love in the vast wilderness of American suburbia. Through trashcans and flower-gardens he slithered, dreaming of the day he might caress the slimy, loving tentacles of another of his kind.
One day while making his way through a patch of gardenias, he happened across a colorful poster which had blown out of a nearby dumpster. It smelled like coffee-grounds, beer-bottles, sardines, and vomit. Not only was it a wonderful aroma, but the artwork depicted another creature very much like himself! Surely this was a sign, he thought. Having studied English as a younger skullopus, he was able to make out the words. It was some sort of an advertisement. For a concert, perhaps? Bands named “Dachshund” and “The Big O Show.” Friday March 1. At a place called “Hunt Club.”
Well, he’d never heard of the bands, but he knew about The Hunt Club, of course. Being a native Tulsan, this skullopus prided himself on being in-the-know about all the happening local nightspots.
So he went to the Hunt Club that Friday night. He was disappointed, at first, to find no other skullopi (skullopusses?) there. But then the bands started playing, and the music was good. He met a few human friends. He drank a good drink. He laughed a good laugh. He danced a squirmy dance.
In the end, he didn’t find love that night. But he found a good time, and he made some new friends. And for awhile, that made everything okay.