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 26, 2012 1:47 am
            On ebay, I recently purchased a coke spoon that had been custom made and owned by Sean Penn. Its made out of a rare golden silver, turquoise, and bone. I swear on the quiet afternoons this thing whispers stories to me. My unborn son told me I’m too young to remember, but when I was older, I beat the shit the mayor of Cincinnati. The mayor had killed a great spirit animal that he couldn’t see. It lived in the heart of the woods behind K-mart. And because he couldn’t see it he ordered the whole woods burned down. I tried to stop em but the city council voted and it was unanimous. We suck. So I kicked the mayors ass at the annual Labor Day parade. I took a flying run at him and tackled him outta the back seat of a 69’ Camaro he was sitting it waving to all the town folk. I knocked him into the street and got about three good shots on him before I was taken out by a bunch of Shriners in their miniature clown cars. I still was able to kick him a couple of times before they and a couple of trombone players pinned me down for good. Whenever I’m feeling glum and down on myself, I always think about that day and knocking that stupid mother fuckers teeth outta his head. It always makes me proud.

            On ebay, I recently purchased a coke spoon that had been custom made and owned by Sean Penn. Its made out of a rare golden silver, turquoise, and bone. I swear on the quiet afternoons this thing whispers stories to me.

            My unborn son told me I’m too young to remember, but when I was older, I beat the shit the mayor of Cincinnati.

            The mayor had killed a great spirit animal that he couldn’t see.

            It lived in the heart of the woods behind K-mart. And because he couldn’t see it he ordered the whole woods burned down. I tried to stop em but the city council voted and it was unanimous.

            We suck.

            So I kicked the mayors ass at the annual Labor Day parade. I took a flying run at him and tackled him outta the back seat of a 69’ Camaro he was sitting it waving to all the town folk. I knocked him into the street and got about three good shots on him before I was taken out by a bunch of Shriners in their miniature clown cars. I still was able to kick him a couple of times before they and a couple of trombone players pinned me down for good.

            Whenever I’m feeling glum and down on myself, I always think about that day and knocking that stupid mother fuckers teeth outta his head. It always makes me proud.

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