CHAPTER ONE

One day Gtoota found herself madly jackhammering the neighborhood sidewalks with i.e. They were working off parking tickets. As the extraneously expended, ridiculously extended rivers of salty sweat coursed down their heartbreakingly broken backs i.e. screamed, "Oh my fucking god! I've left my child on the train! Oh... wait... no, I don't have a child... something else must be wrong. Hmmm..."

Gtoota abruptly dropped her jackhammer. "Did you forget to brush your teeth?" she queried querulously.

"Umm... no," responded i.e., "I don't think that's it, they don't feel fuzzy."

"What about watering your plants so that they don't die?"

"No, it's way too late for that. Don't you remember? I haven't had plants for a couple of years now. They all perished in the great drought of '92, while I was snacking and napping. I think it's something much more insidious than that, but I can't seem to put my fuzzy bunny batting bonnet on it."

"Perhaps we should have a snack and it will come to us," suggested Gtoota.

So they laid down their jackhammers, pulled out a box of Triskets, and snacking ensued. As they relished the delicate bouquet of Trisket, a diabolical, hideous, and downright creepy thought boldly sauntered into their minds and began to meander into the realm of consciousness.

"By Jove," they gasped simultaneously, "we've lost our leisure time!"

CHAPTER TWO

Several minutes of breathless silence followed which, in better circumstances, might have been construed as a breath-holding contest. Finally, revived by the memory of chocolate chip cookies fresh from the oven, i.e. managed to ask, in a small and withered voice, "What will we do now?"

"Well," responded Gtoota, "we need sagely advice, let us ask The Great Hoary Marmot."

"Hey, isn't he in town for that big Village-Elders-Who-Dispense-Age-Old-Wisdom-Anonymous meeting?"

"Why, I believe so, let's see if we can drag him off the wagon."

So they hopped on their super souped-up, spifficatedly spiffy, sopwith camel-like galactic bicycles and rode downtown.

The Great Hoary Marmot was about to enter an intensive afternoon workshop in mouth-zipping when he heard a low rumbling, not entirely unlike the sound of a small herd of pink elephants stampeding through Brooklyn, radiating from the hotel lobby. Flabbergasted at the realization he had somehow been transported from the North Pole to New York, he frantically donned his portable anti-elephant armor, and, as there was really nothing else to be done, poured himself a glass of sherry to calm his nerves.


CHAPTER THREE

Gtoota and i.e. abruptly burst in from the lobby. A great hush fell upon the room, as all eyes turned to our heroes and their unmatched socks.

"Young ladies," said The Great Hoary Marmot, who was sporting socks of a matching nature, "have unmatched socks replaced the hula-hoop?!"

"Why, yes, in fact they have... but that's not why we're here," responded i.e., breathlessly.

"Rats! I must rush right out and get some directly," said The Great Hoary Marmot. "I feel it's very important to stay in touch with today's youth."

"Never mind about socks!" declared Gtoota. "We've got a delirious dilemma, a hideously work-intensive one, at that. Your Sageliness, it seems we have somehow misplaced our leisure time."

"Oh my," responded the Great Hoary Marmot. "Yes I see, and of course that simply won't do, especially here in The North Pole! You know if I was still in the business of punditness I could tell you exactly what to do about it. But unfortunately, and as I'm sure you are well aware, I am trying to quit. It does take away from one's time for snacking and napping..."

"We've already written a song for you," interrupted our two heroes, "If you like it, will you reconsider?"

"Hmm, well...rampant creativity... ativlycre rampantly...rampcreatlypantly," mused his Sageliness. "Oh, all right. Let's hear it and then I'll see."


The Leisure Song
When you've got blood-sucking, sand-mucking, orange and purple critters down your socks -gnawing on your toes,

When you've got icky-sticky ,wet and drippy, semi-corrugated cardboard, solar-powered, electric eels squirming up your nose,

When you've got scary, hairy, monetarily obsessed, brain-abscessed, groin-driven, non-livin', snorting, courting, orangutan football players on your tail,

Than it's not quite as bad as you might think-if you used your imagination to think what it might be like- (maybe middling at best) if you were thinking, or imagining thinking about imagining, thinking what it might POSSIBLY be like-in a most horrible, wretched, despicable, misery-inducing alternative reality (if you can imagine thinking that)- in which you had lost your - OH GOD, DON'T SAY IT, IT'S JUST TOO DARN AWFUL! ....
Leisure Time.

"Criminy!" exclaimed the Great Hoary Marmot. "I'm such a sucker for sad songs. If you so fervently desire to reclaim your leisure time, here is what you must do..."