Once upon a time, two girls went to a summer camps from different parts of the same state. One had curly floofy hair of jealousy inducing proportions. She was named Chewitt, from a place of long windy roads that went nowhere and a mall with people who didn’t know how to walk in malls. The other’s hair was straight, brown, nondescript, with sarcasm as her bark and… sarcasm as her bite.
Well, these two were thrown together in a roundabout way and quickly attached to each other like amoebas. That’s actually kind of gross. So they stuck together like one piece of gum to your shoe and then you stepped on another–
They stuck together, through lunches and tacos and awkward situations. They were in a creative writing class together and, in keeping with their sticking-together-ness, chose computers side by side. Their sticking-together-ship would eventually evolve into a friendship, but for now it was already strong enough to propel Kiersten into sitting in the seat at the circle without actual table space when the writers were gathered at the table. It also compelled Chewitt to stick with the computer that continually malfunctioned and refused to save documents. Theirs was a sticking-together-ship of epic sufferings.
But at their computers, there was one rule. Don’t. Talk. So the two, as teenage girls do, they developed a system. Sometimes one would type on their computer a message, such as, ‘Wanna listen to what I do while I’m writing?’ and pair it with a hand gesture, such as the proffering of an iPod earbud.
The other would nod. They were Secret Agents in Training, or at least the equivalent. But when Chewitt first took this earbud, she was unprepared for the rocking of world that would follow. As she was writing a story about an old man readjusting to the civilian world after a difficult deployment.
Kiersten hit the play button on her iPod, and what floated into Chewitt’s ears?
“Isn’t it cold out in space, Bowie?
Do you want to borrow my jumper, Bowie?
Does the space cold make your nipples go pointy, Bowie?
Do you use your pointy nipples as telescopic antennae to transmit data back to Earth?”
I think it’s pretty clear how these lyrics might jolt you out of a somber story such as hers was. However, why she remained at the finnicky computer next to the strange Kiersten is another story, a quite unknown one.
Lyric transcription from What The Folk, lyricslyrics from Flight of the Conchords’ “Bowie.”
Socially Oxward 