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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          • April 21, 2012 12:19 am
             Post Apocalyptic Blues At the start of Labor Day weekend the town elders would begin their search to receive the sacrificial offering. One year it was a dead cow in the city water supply, actually it was a dead bull with a knife still planted in its heart. But once the elders “received” the offering, wonderful crazy shit would happen for the next three days. I remember one time all my fear turned into cute lil puppies that floated away once they fell asleep and I found a hundred dollar bill in the devils driveway that we blew on airplane glue and gin.  Several women appeared from out of the lake that same night, they were covered in blood and their heads were on fire, but they were all fucking gorgeous. I made out with one named Shelly and laughed as we roasted marshmallows in her hair. That goddamn melted fluff got everywhere. Sometimes when I ‘m driving home from the office I still find little bits of it even though its twenty years later and that state no longer exists.


            Post Apocalyptic Blues

            At the start of Labor Day weekend the town elders would begin their search to receive the sacrificial offering. One year it was a dead cow in the city water supply, actually it was a dead bull with a knife still planted in its heart. But once the elders “received” the offering, wonderful crazy shit would happen for the next three days.

            I remember one time all my fear turned into cute lil puppies that floated away once they fell asleep and I found a hundred dollar bill in the devils driveway that we blew on airplane glue and gin.  Several women appeared from out of the lake that same night, they were covered in blood and their heads were on fire, but they were all fucking gorgeous. I made out with one named Shelly and laughed as we roasted marshmallows in her hair. That goddamn melted fluff got everywhere. Sometimes when I ‘m driving home from the office I still find little bits of it even though its twenty years later and that state no longer exists.

            1. reblogged this from hookersorcake and added:
            2. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            3. said: You’re shit on my dash, while sometimes gross (that’s how shit is, you see), always make my day just a bit better. Hookers or Cake? I can’t decide…I think I will take both. -V
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            5. hookersorcake posted this