Ave Caesar, morituri te salutant …
“Do I look like a field of alfafa …”
“Did you see where they dug up an old gladiator’s graveyard?”
“What? Pads and all? Whatever happened to letting dead football players rest in peace?”
“Not those gladiators, dude. Roman gladiators. You know, duels to the death. Lions, tigers, and bears. Russell Crowe. From the looks of ’em, I’d say they mostly rested in pieces.”
“Dude, that’s old.”
“So’s the graveyard, dude.”
“Right. So here are these guys. Some fatcat who’s cornered the olive oil market owns them. They probably get traded at the farmer’s market in the Forum. They spend all day getting hacked at, clawed, and bitten. What the hell did they have to be glad about?”
“But, dude! Fame and fortune. Well, OK, maybe not fortune. But certainly fame. It was Roman Idol!”
“Uh huh. And when the audience voted you off, it was for keeps.”
– O Ceallaigh
Copyright © 2010 Felloffatruck Publications. All wrongs deplored.
All opinions are mine as a private citizen.
I’m not seizing hail for anybody. I’m getting out of the storm!