Hookers or Cake

Where the self-obsessed get serious about silly
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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          • March 3, 2012 12:27 am
            My grandfather, in some half-assed attempt to rekindle his sex life, accidentally reset my grandmother’s root chakra and totally melted her mind. Now she just hangs out all day on the roof, screaming at the sun. Grandpa’s never been happier.

            My grandfather, in some half-assed attempt to rekindle his sex life, accidentally reset my grandmother’s root chakra and totally melted her mind. Now she just hangs out all day on the roof, screaming at the sun. Grandpa’s never been happier.

            223 notes Filed under:  yoga, prose, flash fiction, kundalini, muladhara,.
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          by Peter Vidani. For .
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