This weekend marks the birth of one of the founders of the Every Other Thursday blog, Don “The Meatball Parm” Martelli. So in honor of his birthday, I present to you dear reader, the abridged story of Don “The Boston Weiner” Martelli. From his humble roots in the cornfields of Iowa, to his rise in the corporate empire of Boston. This is the mostly true but completely false and made up story of Don “Marshmallow Turkey” Martelli.

The Story of Don “Magical Meatloaf” Martelli

Don was born in the back of a rusted out Ford Fairlane permanently ditched on the side of County Road D85 near Union, Iowa. Initially thought to be a girl, his mother named him Donna. Realizing that he was in fact a boy, and that small flap of skin wasn’t just a skin tag, she quickly corrected it to Don. As she held her newborn against her chest, she lovingly thought of how excited his father would be, when he got back from buying that pack of cigarettes.

Don grew up in humble surroundings. It was a hard life on the farm. Every morning he would wake up, suckle on his mothers teet for breakfast, then head off to middle school. This would precede his chores in the afternoons, which consisted of milking the field mice and harvesting three acres of corn by hand. But early on Don exhibited a knack for marketing, as he was able to actually sell mice milk on the side of the road, billing it as a magic elixer that would cure even the most complex ailments. Only later would he learn that those were male mice.

When he turned eighteen, Don graduated eighth grade and kissed his mother goodbye. She was in tears for days, mostly from living under the path of a crop dusting plane. Don walked out to the highway and stuck out his thumb. His life was about to begin.

A month later and with a sore jaw, Don hopped down from the cab of a long hauler in Spokane, Washington. Quickly ditching his overalls for a pair of fashionable sweat pants and a turtleneck at a discount store, Don set out to look for work. Through some fast talking, he was able to secure a job as a used car salesman at an AMC lot. Don was an instant success and sold more Pacers than any other dealership over the next couple years. He came in second in DeLorean sales, to a man named Bill Crusher. Bill and Don became fast friends, due to their bond over selling the worst cars in the history of America successfully to skeptical buyers. However, as Don neared his 23rd birthday he began to regard Bill as less of a father figure and more of a rival. With the assistance of cheap beer and an over abundance of under processed meat, Don decided Bill had to be terminated.

Don called up an acquaintance, Dennis Wilson, an L.A. based musician. He asked Dennis if he knew anybody that would be interested in a little “Dirty Work.” Dennis happened to have just the character crashing on his couch and he put him in touch with Don. Soon thereafter, two women showed up at Don’s door. Mary and Susan. They were prepared to do whatever Don instructed. After they were done cleaning his one bedroom apartment, washing his Gremlin and shaving his intimate areas, they headed over to Bill Crusher’s place. Don never saw them again, but spent the next week scrubbing the words “Helter Skelter” written in crayon off the kitchen cabinets.

Don saw Bill again however, on back of a milk carton. Don had no idea that Bill actually escaped and lived the rest of his life in Mexico, selling tacos to tourists. The whole event left Don a bit unnerved so he left Spokane and headed east. He made it as far as Austin, Texas before taking a short break. While there, he invented a clone of the pet rock, called the “pet can of pencil shavings.” Considering the low overhead, he made a modest enough profit to buy what he had always wanted, a hot dog cart. He spent the next several years touring the country, living in a van (down by the river) and selling his special made dirty water dogs. What was so special about them? Nothing. He just said they were. He also told people that he made his own mustard. He didn’t. He bought it by the case and stored it in the van. Often a gallon jar would burst open during travel. He’d scoop it up and serve it later.

It was the mustard that would lead Don into the next stage of his life. During travel, one of the cases of mustard busted open. Normally a routine occurrence, this particular case of mustard contained a tear in the fabric of space and time. Like a flash of light, Don was no longer in our universe. Instead he found himself in an alternate universe. He was trapped in a large aquarium type enclosure. His van was gone, his hot dogs were gone and so was his mustard. He would come to learn he had been transported to the planet Tralfamadore, to be displayed as if in a zoo. He noticed he was not alone. With him was B-movie starlet Montana Wildhack. Eventually, their embarrassment over being on display passed, and they fucked like rabbits on speed all over the enclosure. Against the glass on the right side, against the glass on the left side, against the glass in front, against the glass in back, and so on. Little did Don know that fucking would become the key to his freedom.

The Tralfamadores became weary of Don and Montana doing it the same every time, three times a week, so they decided to shake things up a bit. They sent Don back to Earth and brought up Peter North, who would go on to entertain them for a millenia and eventually broker a trade deal between the Tralfamadores and Earth. When Don arrived back on earth, it was the mid-nineties and he had not aged. He was also naked in a department store. After his recent experience, he decided he really needed to settle down. So he married the first woman that kissed him on his lips (since his mother.) Her name was Susan, and as she rushed to cover Don up with a ladies coat that first day in the department store, she hasn’t left his side since. Of course, that’s due to an industrial glue accident that left them fused at the hips. Side to side.

The department store was outside Boston, where Don settled with Susan. He’d go on to become brain washed by the Red Sox nation after drinking tainted Sam Adams and eventually begin a successful career in marketing – hot dogs. Today Don and Susan have two lovely daughters and a son that was born with a unicorn horn. They keep him locked in the basement and tell no one about his existence. I only know because when I was there, I caught them tossing rings onto his horn for shits and giggles. He whinnied and ran out of the room.

Happy Birthday Don!! From me and your friends at Every Other Thursday! May your birthday bratwurst be juicy and your wife do that one thing she won’t do any other day of the year. You know what I’m talking about. Wear the Tom Brady mask while she’s… never mind. It’s too disturbing.

Curtis Silver really thinks all of that had a chance of actually happening because he may just have come from the Total Recall facility but really can’t remember. You can jog his memory by following on Twitter @cebsilver. You can follow Don on Twitter @bigguyd and wish him a happy birthday!

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