After the Galaxy's loss to Vancouver last weekend, I decided it was time to quench the con-flagrant passion that has left my heart ashen with grief and give my love to something or someone else. So with the money I made from a fare - my community service involves driving the coroners van on Wednesdays - I bought a couch.
It was amazingly spacious and came with a free can of scotch-guard. I took it home, drank several bottles of sour mash and unfolded the bed inside to catch up on some much needed sleep.
A few hours later I stirred at the peal of rain against the window shutters, then opened my eyes beneath a pillow. What my eyes saw filled me with more dread than the time I solicited a police officer in a kitschy dress outside a fish market in Seattle. Wait a minute--rain, prostitutes and fish? That could only mean one thing. The Seattle Sounders are coming.
Now this is a match I expect us to win, if even at the moment the only thing that seems to favor the Galaxy is the home pitch advantage. Clint Dempsey is the only American player I believed got short changed in Europe. On his day he is just as prolific as any other world class. And on Sunday the partnership between him and Obafemi Martins is likely to present the Galaxy with their greatest challenge thus far.
Expect Todd Dunivant to be better prepared for this match-up since returning last week from a surd list of ailments, and my faith in Gyasi Zardes to finally reveal its integrity. Stefan Ishizaki would have easily been my favorite player this season had I not sworn off the Galaxy altogether. His form should be in sync with the cantillating chorus eructing from the Angel City Brigade. The L.A Galaxy's loveable hooligans return to their first home game since sanctions were lifted against them by MLS several weeks ago. Then there is Landon Donovan.
As I watched the goose pimples swell on the bridge of my nose from the oncoming dread, there was a wrap at my door. Disgust turned to fear that rendered me paralyzed and catatonic. My head which usually weighs in at about 13 pounds was pressing into the mattress with the force of a hammer striking an anvil.
Bed bugs as big as rats and throbbing were moving towards my eyes. I bought this couch because it was bigger than the cot it replaced. I had planned on sleep being the substitute for times spent thinking about Bruce Arena and his resemblance to Charles Bronson, or how much Bradford Jamieson IV tips his barber. It is nearly impossible for me to be awake and not think about these things.
The wrapping at the door continued, louder this time, as if someone's foot had replaced their knuckles. Then, with a smash, the door broke from its hinges and sailed across the room. I was still frozen in place, but through the mirror across the room I saw the bright beams of the sun stretching from the figures head like a crown. A sign that the world was no longer rotating on its axis.
"Oh Lord Jesus" I thought, "couldn't you have waited until after I had shared this sofa-bed with an obliging member of the fairer sex?"
The blood in my veins started moving again and relief sighed from me as it was Landon Donovan who stepped forward, and not the resurrected. He carried a beaker and tongs in surgically gloved hands
"This sofa-bed use to be mine" he said. "It's where Twizzle the old mascot crashed after he was fired and replaced by Cosmo. Now help me collect these little bastards."
I did as I was told and we collected hundreds of bed bugs from between the cushions and inside the frame. We then hopped a bus and made our way to the hotel the Sounders reserved for their stay in Carson. When I returned home I went to the garage sale where I bought the couch. "No refund" I was told. I got a sleeping bag and a used bottle of viagra instead. How can I use these to the Galaxy's advantage?
Hmm I wonder?
Tune in next week as Landon and I lead a cackle of hyenas through the cemetery.