Nick & Dooie

So I was sitting around thinking of Marco, as I so often do and it came to me: This guy got fucking shafted.

And if I feel this way, what would Marco, himself, think?

It takes me back to a story from my youth, when I was just a wee lad working as a dishwasher in the Mongol Courts. Let me tell you, those barbarians don’t know how to eat without spilling everywhere. Fucking maniacs they are.

Anyway, so there I was, minding my business and cleaning the “big pot” (we had sautéed goat and virgins that night) when in rolls this Italian prick, bitching and moaning about his haunches. Not one to stand around when there’s a good fight going to get, I moseyed over to the cooking fires and none other than Marco Polo was all a flutter. He felt that he didn’t receive his proper remunerations for all the fine bitches (those are his words) that he brought over and was demanding recourse.

Of course, what was the Khagan to do? He could have split Marco in half like a boortsog but that would have led to nothing but bad feelings. And when you live in a climate that has winters of 30 degrees below, who needs more problems? So instead, he offered a few marmots and though Marco bitched and moaned, course much more to himself than to anyone else, he quelled his complaints, knocked over a few pots and pans and went back to his ship.

So what did we learn about Mr. Polo? One: He’s a bitch that backs down quite easy. Two: He just likes to complain. I feel for the guy.

Not Nick, Nor Dooie but The Todd

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