Hookers or Cake

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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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          • January 10, 2011 8:31 pm


            My Dearest Britney -

              Darling, I’m afraid the end is nigh. We are lost and rudderless. The mountains on my beer cans no longer turn blue. I don’t know who I am anymore. The men are becoming anxious and confused. Sergeant Binkers doesn’t know who to text in and vote for. Darkness is upon us. We are down to our last case of Easy Cheese and the Philistines refuse to send any more refreshments unless we order more bottle service. For the first time in my life I am afeared that we shall not make it to the after party. What ever shall I do?

             My love, The winter has aged me. Last night I had a dream that I was 30 and walking down a fashion model runway which was also a conveyor belt and when I did my fabulous turn to walk back, the conveyor belt just kept speeding up and I couldn’t keep up with it. I could see the pit behind me and it was just a pile of boring old people, with bad hair and terrible shoes writhing about in a Wal-Mart.

            words by Hookers or Cake - photo by

            28 notes Filed under:  silly stories, Mr. King,.
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