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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          • October 24, 2009 3:29 am

            Who’s there?

            the bushy oracle whispered truths so delicate and strange that I began to became lucid. I discovered that what I had previously thought to be Me, was actually the immortal eye of God.

            well actually I made that up.

            The giggling girls vadge just told me a dirty knock knock joke, which didn’t even make any sense. Of course I tried to make sense of it. Its all a great metaphor for my life. Trying to make sense of a dumb knock knock joke when I should be fucking.

            Knock Knock

            :

            via realitykings.com

            9 notes Filed under:  silly stories, nsfw, hookers,.
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              Who’s there? the bushy oracle whispered truths so delicate and strange that I began to became lucid. I discovered that...
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