Starsky & Hutch discuss The Manure Stand
23 Aug 1999
by
Flamingo

    Starsky entered the VenicePlace apartment in a rush, slamming the door behind him, locking the door with a clatter and tossing the key -- normally kept over the lintel -- on the coffee table. He was holding his nose with two fingers and sounded more nasal than usual when he told his partner, "Hudch, we gotta moob."

    Hutch, busy patching Starsky's threadbare red longjohns looked up in confusion. "Moob? Moob? What is that, code? Do you mean 'boob', as in, we've got a lotta boobs in this building? Boy, that's a loaded statement!" Hutch giggled, nearly stabbing himself with the needle. Well, the garment was red, who'd notice.... "Better not let Flamingo hear you talking sexist like that or you'll have to wear that steel athletic support for a month, like last time. And let go of your nose, mushbrain, I can't understand a word you're saying."

    As though he just realized he was still pinching his nostrils, Starsky took his hand from his face. Wiggling his other impressive organ, he took a deep breath. "Oh, good! You can't smell it from up here! Listen, Hutch, we gotta move!"

    "Now you want to move?" Hutch said disapprovingly. "After you signed us up for a lease that extends into eternity, into the next dimension, never mind the next millennium, a lease with some of the most peculiar small print I have ever seen, a lease that--"

    Starsky pouted, "Hey, at least the rent is free!"

    "You mean it doesn't cost any cash," Hutch clarified. "Considering what we have to do to fulfill the bizarre requirements of our rental agreement, I wouldn't call it exactly 'free.'"

    "Yeah, well they've gone too far this time!" Starsky protested.

    "You didn't think so when you got us involved with The Band rehearsals. First it was 2 kazoos, an accordion, and a 6 foot interpretive dancer in a butterfly costume and one out of tune Partridge Family song. Now it's turned into a 30 piece orchestra with rap artists, beatnik poetry readers, accordions, concertinas, a raft of kazoos, percussion instruments, harps...and who all knows what."

    "Yeah," Starsky said morosely, "and not one of them playing in tune--"

    "To the entire catalog of Partridge Family songs, Barry Manilow--"

    Starsky visibly shuddered.

    "Monkees!" Hutch did stick himself that time. Yelping, he stuck his thumb in his mouth.

    Starsky only stared at the ceiling with an expression of hopelessness much like he wore while holding Hutch during his terrible withdrawal from heroin all those years ago. Yeah, that bad.

    "And," Hutch continued, after removing his thumb, "I've heard a terrifying rumor that they might be trying to learn the Starsky & Hutch theme."

    "Oh God, not that!" Starsky gasped. "Which year?"

    Hutch shrugged. "Who can tell? Of course, it might not've been the SH theme. It could've been the one from Gilligan's Island. With this group the differences would be subtle at best. But, you did sign the lease for us, so we're stuck here. Flamingo says she's raising the price of those special earplugs she got on the internet. $50 bucks sounds steep to me, but--"

    "Listen, forget the band!" Starsky interrupted, "this is more important. We've gotta get outta here. This time they've gone too far, I tell ya! We can't live here anymore! Do you have any idea what CrowRow's doing out front of the building?"

    Hutch went back to his sewing. "Calm down, Starsky. That's a hard-working girl out there, give her a break. She has to drive that cab back and forth from here to the Twilight Zone with all those floating Rambo Jim Heads--"

    "Will you come here a minute?" Starsky said impatiently, grabbing his partner by the shoulder and dragging him over to bedroom window. "Just look at that!!!" He pointed down to a little stand made out of battered cardboard boxes that was perched conspicuously in front of VenicePlace.

    Scrawled in a child-like hand across the cardboard boxes with red crayon were the words, "cHeeP mANooor foR saLE! Help the vp band fix there BUs and BUy neW UNifORms. 5 ceNTs for a HOLe box!"

    Hutch shook his head. "I think that should be spelled 't-h-e-i-r' and 'w-h-o-l-e' and what the hell is 'manooor'?"

    Starsky completely lost it. "IT'S SHIT, HUTCH! SHE'S SELLING SHIT IN FRONT OF OUR--"

    Hutch clamped a hand over his lover's mouth. "Will you pipe down! You know what happens whenever they hear you yelling! The place will be filling up with voyeurs any second now."

    "Oh, sorry. Forgot. Listen, that 'hard-working girl' is trying to sell people boxes of POOP down there, Hutch! Enough is enough. We gotta move!"

    Hutch looked worried. "Oh, man, this is pretty serious." He sighed and went over to his desk and pulled out a huge book at least 10 inches thick.

    "Man, Hutch," Starsky said admiringly, "that book is almost as thick as you are long."

    Hutch flipped open the cover and started looking through the contents.

    "I'm bigger than this book, Starsk."

    Starsky waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, yeah? Let's check--"

    "Not now," Hutch admonished without taking his attention from the book. He started flipping pages. "You're too easily distracted. I've got to finish those damned long-johns before practice tonight. You're wearing them out in the seat."

    "Not my fault they keep petting me back there," Starsky mumbled grumpily.

    "Ah, here it is. Okay." He looked at his partner with a smile. "This here is the complete text of every city ordinance ever written since Bay City was first founded. I knew there was something in here that would help us deal with this situation. Here it is..."

    Hutch ran his finger down the page as he read: "In the beginning was the Plan. And then came the Assumptions."

    "Wasn't that one of those do-wap groups from the fifties?" Starsky asked.

    "Don't interrupt," Hutch warned. "And the Assumptions were without form. And the Plan was without substance. And darkness was upon the face of the Workers. And they spoke among themselves, saying, 'It is a crock of shit, and it stinks.' And the Workers went unto their Supervisors and said, 'It is a pail of dung, and we can't live with the smell.'"

    "You got that right," Starsky agreed.

    Hutch continued. "And the Supervisors went unto their Managers, saying, 'It is a container of excrement, and it is very strong, such that none may abide by it.' And the Managers went unto their Directors, saying, 'It is a vessel of fertilizer, and none may abide its strength.' And the Directors spoke among themselves, saying to one another, 'It contains that which aids plant growth, and it is very strong.' And the Directors went to the Vice Presidents, saying unto them, 'It promotes growth, and it is very powerful.' And the Vice Presidents went to the President, saying unto her, 'This new plan will actively promote the growth and vigor of the city with very powerful effects.' And the President looked upon the Plan and saw that it was good. And the Plan became Policy."

    Hutch shook his head and shut the book. "Gee, Starsk, looks like there's nothing we can do. She's got every legal right!"

    Starsky looked devastated. "You gotta be kidding me!"

    Hutch pointed to the book. "Nope. Says it right here. And now you know the truth -- this is how shit happens."