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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          • May 2, 2012 1:42 am
            We’d just arrived at my parents place for Thanksgiving Day Dinner and my Uncle strode over. “So that story in your book, the one about the robot who couldn’t cum, is that supposed to be about me?” “Hey Roger,” I say, shaking my Uncles hand. “This is Shelly, my girlfriend. Shelly, this is Roger.” I didn’t know you couldn’t cum,” I said. “Yeah, ever since I started taking those blood pressure pills. I can still get it up though,” he smiled. “I just never achieve orgasm. I can hammer away all night and nothing.” ”So do you fake orgasm?” I said, making myself an Hors d’oeuvre plate. “No, dumbass I’m talking about jacking off!” he hollered. “Oh, yeah, that would be kinda silly,” I agreed, “but in my robot story, the robot fakes ejaculation.” “Oh?” he raises his eyebrows. “Yeah,” I continue, “he discharges oil from his middle finger and flicks it on the gorilla’s back.”  - sometimes I wonder where it all went wrong…

            We’d just arrived at my parents place for Thanksgiving Day Dinner and my Uncle strode over. “So that story in your book, the one about the robot who couldn’t cum, is that supposed to be about me?” “Hey Roger,” I say, shaking my Uncles hand. “This is Shelly, my girlfriend. Shelly, this is Roger.”

            I didn’t know you couldn’t cum,” I said. “Yeah, ever since I started taking those blood pressure pills. I can still get it up though,” he smiled. “I just never achieve orgasm. I can hammer away all night and nothing.” ”So do you fake orgasm?” I said, making myself an Hors d’oeuvre plate. “No, dumbass I’m talking about jacking off!” he hollered. “Oh, yeah, that would be kinda silly,” I agreed, “but in my robot story, the robot fakes ejaculation.” “Oh?” he raises his eyebrows. “Yeah,” I continue, “he discharges oil from his middle finger and flicks it on the gorilla’s back.”

             - sometimes I wonder where it all went wrong…

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            5. said: Is it wrong of me to say I’d read that story? And, if the mood struck me, masturbate to it? And by masturbate I mean, of course, masturbate.
            6. hookersorcake posted this