Wonderland Burlesque's You Might Grow Up To Be A Mule Quiz - Part 1

Wonderland Burlesque's 

You Might Grow Up To Be A Mule Quiz

Part 1

Bing Crosby's Swinging On A Star popped into my head the other day and I thought... what a great idea for a quiz!

Just fill in the blank for the topic suggested: If you had to be a ____ what would you be? And why?

You can pick something you would like to be, something that reflects your current state, or something that captures the 'real you.'

We'll be covering a lot of territory - some random, some not so random - so don't worry or get too far ahead of yourself. If you don't see something you think would be a great topic as part of this series of quizzes? Hang on. There's more to come.

So, go on, ask yourself...

If I had to be a ____, what would I be?

1/ A Room In A House?

 

The Coal Room In A Decrepit Victorian

Everybody marvels that I'm still here, though no one can quite picture what purpose I ever served. 

Perhaps they've read about these things, or do have a vague idea of how I once worked, but I certainly have outlived my usefulness. 

Most see me as a nasty, dank room with a  rusted flap in the wall - one they're fearful of and reticent to touch. As such, they will just ignore me and concentrate on renovating the rest of the house.

Well, I'm good for storing useless things or things you'd rather forget.

So, that counts for something!

2/ A Household Appliance?

The Furnace. 

Old, in need of replacement, not energy efficient. 

Barely does the job its intended to do.

Lots of hot air in colder months. 

May blow up if not properly maintained. 

Dormant in summer.

(Hmm. I'm sensing a theme...)

3/ A Piece Of Furniture?

A Ratty Brown And Orange Sleeper Settee From The 1970's.

I reside in the basement now.

From a distance I look alright. My multi-colored weave deceives the eye. In places, my thatch has begun to pull apart and my foam cushion, dried out, is now a horrible orange-yellow and in a state of decomposition. Sit directly on me and you'll come away a weird powder all over your backside. 

Best to simply throw an old sheet over me. That would be the kind thing to do. Anything would be better than what is.

Guests, for the most part, avoid me.

Oh, on occasion, someone is foolish enough to open me up, unfold me, and try to sleep on me. But my mattress has worn thin. I'm all metal bars grinding uncomfortably into your back. You won't get a good night's sleep and will vow never to sleep on me again. 

And... wait... is that a mouse dropping?  

 

4/ A Musical Instrument

A Dented, Tarnished Baritone

My bell looks as if it's been through a car crash, all crinkles and sharp edges. My keys work, but stick on occasion; the mother of pearl which once adorned their tips, worn away long ago, along with most of my brass shine. My spit valves leak constantly leaving an embarrassing puddle on the floor, at your feet. All my tuning adjustments are locked in place, so whoever plays me has to make do with whatever sound I emit.

My mouthpiece has been used by more lips than one can count. Frequent dips in the communal vat of mouth wash and it's as good as new, right? 

But, in the hands of the truly talented, I still make a lovely sound; pure of tone, a song, in parts, both keen and blissful. That tonal quality is the only reason band members bother with me. Once that goes - and it will - I'll be sold to the junkman, who'll have me scrapped and melted down. 

Still, in the memories of a few, my song will live on.

5/ A Vehicle

A Silver 2002 Saturn Ion 

No rust and I start every time. Even my interior passes muster, provided no one looks too closely.

I've been well-maintained. 

Yes, I'm a brand that has wound its way into history, so getting replacement parts has become harder and harder. There's also that matter of my front stabilizer which has rusted and cannot be replaced unless my entire fuel system is removed. But... we don't like to talk about it. 

Still. I run. And I'm not a total embarrassment to be seen driving. I get us where we need to go.

Someone will keep me on the road until I give out and then...? 

Well, by then we'll be too old to drive anyway. 

6/ A Tool

A Shiny New Hammer

A hammer. Hitting a nail. Thinking everything is a nail. 

Bang, bang, bang... 

When you're a hammer? Everything looks like a nail.

Bang, bang, bang...

If I catch your thumb? Well, that's on you. You should've known better. What else did you expect?

I'm a stupid hammer. 

I only do one thing. 

Bang, bang, bang...

7/ An Article Of Clothing?

A White Crew Neck Cotton Tee Shirt

I start out all brilliant white and fit you snuggly, giving you confidence throughout your workday. 

Wash after wash, slowly my fabric melds into a delicious, cushy, softness. You don't use bleach, so my white fades to this weird, dull greyish tan. Still, you continue to wear me, because I am comfortable and no one can see me, since you've always got a nice, bright, crisply ironed shirt on over me. 

And then one day you get a pile of new tees. I get relegated to that pile you only wear to sleep in. And you do still love me, it's simply my purpose in life has changed. I'm now about comfort. 

You continue to wear me. Maybe one day you're working in the garage, cleaning it out or changing the oil on your car and you decide I'd be okay to wear while you do that. I get a stain. Then, when you break for lunch, you eat a hotdog with yellow mustard and you get a dab of that mustard on me. It never comes out, because, remember... you don't use bleach.

Then one morning, you're late for work. Your eyes full of sleep, you reach over to pull me off, but you're a bit too rough, a bit unthinking, and I tear. It's just one small tear, in the neckline, so you continue to wear me. But only to bed. And never when you have a guest over. 

That one tear is joined by many others until you reach that day when you realize there are more holes than fabric. 

And I get tossed into the rag pile.

Maybe I get used to scrub your bathroom sink. You use Soft Scrub with bleach. At last... bleach and I become acquainted. 

But then there is 'that day.' You step in mud. Or worse, some dog doo. I'm handy and an easy solution. But now? You don't even want to wash me. Into the garbage I go. 

Oh, don't worry, my life is not over. At the landfill, exposed to the elements, I am reduced to thread and pieces of fluff which are collected by the local birds and used to line their nests. 

Yes, I had a long and fulfilling run. I got to do so many different things. 

And in the end? I end up getting pooped on by a bunch of baby birds. 

Life is... good.

8/ A Child's Toy?

That Abused Barbie Doll No One Talks About

Yes, I'm the one in the bottom of the toy box; my hair, what's left of it, is dyed a cheap, dull orange. People stare at the tiny holes in my scalp where long blond tresses once resided. 

They judge me.

Someone's taken a magic marker and tried to do my make-up (and gave me nipples.) I look like Carol Kane in Office Killer, face all akimbo. 

The dog has had a go at me, leaving teeth marks in my fleshy, bendy legs. Legs with knees that no longer hold any stance, but they're still Malibu tan.

I will spend a few days as a cast-off at Goodwill until an enterprising employee, disgusted by my appearance, casts me in the bin. I will end my life lost in the local landfill, where I will spend my days babbling to no one in particular, reliving that brief period of time when I was fresh out of the box, still had my dream house and could still count on a look or two from Ken. 

My looks, long gone... no child, not even the poorest, sifting through the debris in search of a treasure, will want me. 

Well, at least I still have my figure. 

And a great pair knockers. 

9/ A Board Game?

A Deck of Playing Cards

You never know what you're gonna get. 

And though I can be used for almost any game, the reality is... we'll mostly be playing gin.

Oh, and somebody forgot to remove the jokers from the deck, so... quelle surprise!

The one upside? 

There are pictures of naked men! So, in a way, I serve two purposes, or, as I like to look at it...

Two ways to jack you around!

10/ A Hand Held Device?

Lindsey Graham's Dildo

I am large, neon pink and will hurt him so bad. I will make him feel so much pain that he'll put me in a drawer and promise himself he will never use me again. Which would suit me just fine, as I like being left alone.

But you know Lindsey... he's not too bright. And that memory of his?

There will come a night and another night and another night when that itch he has to scratch will become too much for him and he will reach out for me.

And I'll hurt him again, and again, and again.

Yes.

Payback's a bitch, motherfucker.

--- ---

That's enough of me.

Okay, your turn. Leave your answers in the comments section. I adore these inside glimpses into your personalities.

Until next time...

Thanks for reading... and participating.

Swingin' On A Star - Bing Crosby & Cast

Swing On A Star - Little Lulu