Herman Writes a Song

Herman, determined to run for the President of the United States, found brain cells to replace himself as well as Sherman in their host’s brain. The two of them took up residency in their former host’s apartment just inside the PlayStation 3. Herman loves games, so he wanted to be around whenever one came on. Meanwhile Sherman kept himself busy making sure Herman stayed out of trouble. Well, as best as he could.

Sherman: You’ve been awfully quiet in there.

Herman: I’m busy.

S: I know. That’s what worries me. What are you doing?

H: I’m writing my theme song.

S: Theme song?

H: For my campaign. All the cool people have theme songs. Superman, Batman, Wonder Woman, The Six Million Dollar Man, who, I might add, got totally taken. The dude didn’t even get a bionic nostril. Seriously. I only paid two bucks and I got one. Oh yeah, note to self: need sound effects.

S: Sound effects? What are you going to do, carry an iPod around with you and whenever you move, use the sound effects?

H: Oh! Good idea! I’m glad you’re on my team. Just don’t tell Newt. Don’t want to give him an edge. So do you want to hear my song so far?

S: Might as well.

H: Okay, can you turn on the music. It’s the big button that looks like an arrow. Maybe it’s a triangle. I don’t know but it lights up. It’s shiny.

S: It’s on.

H: Oh. Okay, wait, stop it, I’m not ready!

S: Stopped. What is that noise?

H: Clearing my throat. All of us rock stars need to do that before we sing.

S: Sounds like a herd of buffalo running through here.

H: Okay, I’m ready, Mr. Smarty Pants.

S: The buffalo gone?

H: SHERMAN!

S: Sorry, here you go.

H: I made it through the wilderness
Somehow I made it through
Didn’t know how to fix the chair
Until I found glue

It was beat, incomplete
I had sat, but the seat fell through
And it made me mad
Yeah, it made me mad
Stupid bamboo

Like a Herman
Smart dude out of his mind
Like a Herman
Doesn’t have a heart beat
Sherman’s unkind

S: Wait, Herman, you can’t do that.

H: Well you are rather rude.

S: Not that. I mean you can’t steal a song.

H: I WROTE THIS!

S: The lyrics, undoubtedly. I’m talking about the music. You’re plagiarizing it. I don’t think Madonna and the writers would be too happy with you going around singing about bamboo chairs with their song.

H: I changed the words. And it won’t be using the same music. I’ve hired my own band. Totally different sound.

S: It doesn’t matter.

H: Kazoos and bells and one guy on a triangle. They’re awesome. None of that digital garbage. I’m only using the real deal.

S: I couldn’t imagine a digital kazoo. In any case, you still can’t do it.

H: What if I got a harpist?

S: No.

H: But I just bought an entire shipment of bamboo chairs for the concert tour! What am I going to do with all of those chairs?

S: You’ll just have to send them back.

H: I can’t. I threw the box out.

S: Get another one.

H: I painted the chairs.

S: Herman, why do you do these things?

H: I didn’t like the color. Made sense to paint them.

S: No, I mean why did you buy the chairs?

H: I told you! They’re for the concert! Except for one that I’m going to use in the video. Oh, and his stunt double.

S: A stunt double… for a chair?

H: They have to be specially trained. I paid for kung fu lessons and everything. Teacher said it passed with flying colors.

S: Herman, a chair can’t do kung fu.

H: The teacher gave him a black belt.

S: Herman, chairs are inanimate objects. They can’t move on their own. They can’t learn kung fu. They aren’t alive!

H: It dances too.

S: Have you seen it dance?

H: Well, it spins on one leg. That’s sort of like dancing.

S: Does it just up and spin on its own?

H: Of course not, Sherman, you’re so stupid. The rug has to run away first, and when the rug runs away, the chair spins.

S: And how exactly does the rug run away?

H: Well, that’s the tricky part.

S: I suspected as much. How?

H: Well… you know those bungee cords that have been lying in that closet for years?

S: Yes.

H: Did you know if you link them altogether, they’ll reach out to the parking lot. Those little hooks work pretty well with bumpers. Ripped that rug right out of the room. Made that chair spin until the television stopped it.

S: The television? Do I want to know?

H: It just sort of fell on the chair… after the chair landed on the stand and tipped it over. Stopped all of that dancing. Stupid heathen chair. You’re right. I need a new theme song. Bamboo chairs are too stupid.

S: Apparently.

H: Well, back to writing. If you break apart the rest of the chairs, you could make that yacht you’ve always wanted. I’m sure there will be plenty of wood.

S: Just how many chairs are there?

H: After the crushing defeat of the stunt chair, who’s probably in no shape to be made into a yacht, there should be 24,999 left for you to play with. Oh, and you’ll need to throw out all the Sharpies that I used to paint them. Several crates of those floating around the place. They dry up too fast. Now stop bothering me, I’m trying to work!