Hookers or Cake

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I'm too wacky to be hip.

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      ------------------------------------ There was a large painting of Evel Knievel shaking hands with Richard Nixon. It hung in the Mayors office. Late one evening after everyone went home. I took it down to the lab. I zoomed in on Evel’s left eye a 100x and enhanced it. It was an address. I went to the address. It was a modest, 1970’s style, split level ranch home in the suburbs.

      ----------------------------------- Inside I found a dead parrot lying on a waterbed. I revived the parrot with some saltines and adrenaline. We became good friends. The parrots name was Randy. One night a few years later while Randy and me played Gin Rummy, he sang me a song about a fire. The title of this blog was never mentioned but I sensed it, and Randy confirmed it by giving me ‘THE LOOK’.

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          • December 26, 2011 11:53 pm
            I telepathically attacked the marching band with thoughts of regret. Their performance was subsequently lackluster causing them not to be chosen to represent your state in the Rose Bowl Parade. I leeched prescription medication into the drinking water causing you to fall asleep under the trees and dream of evil robot weather men and endless, partly cloudy days. I secretly scented all of your unscented candles with whorish flavors like Night Passion Breeze & Shivering Musk I devoured all of your grandmothers guilt and she entered her Buick Crown Regal into the demolition derby and got 4th place. Had she not been so drunk she would have won. I was reincarnated as a monkey at the zoo and I threw shit at you and your date, ruining both of your snow cones. I am the eternal queen of the square dance and I will rain down upon you whimsy, terror, and boredom for 90+ years, until you slowly whither away after everyone you love is dead. No one will even remember how to correctly pronounce your name, not even Jesus Christ and his forty thieves.

            I telepathically attacked the marching band with thoughts of regret. Their performance was subsequently lackluster causing them not to be chosen to represent your state in the Rose Bowl Parade.

            I leeched prescription medication into the drinking water causing you to fall asleep under the trees and dream of evil robot weather men and endless, partly cloudy days.

            I secretly scented all of your unscented candles with whorish flavors like Night Passion Breeze & Shivering Musk

            I devoured all of your grandmothers guilt and she entered her Buick Crown Regal into the demolition derby and got 4th place. Had she not been so drunk she would have won.

            I was reincarnated as a monkey at the zoo and I threw shit at you and your date, ruining both of your snow cones.

            I am the eternal queen of the square dance and I will rain down upon you whimsy, terror, and boredom for 90+ years, until you slowly whither away after everyone you love is dead. No one will even remember how to correctly pronounce your name, not even Jesus Christ and his forty thieves.

            142 notes Filed under:  poetry, tall tales of splendid drunken whores,.
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