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 18, 2010 8:45 am
            suddenly it all makes sense all the pain all the suffering all the terrible Kate Hudson movies… you know the truth it exists deep within you yet it is freely all about closer than sound closer than breath God is doing burnouts in the parking lot of the KFC Cuz the Colonel is ALIVE! tap the keg and rejoice my friends look upon this picture and know your true face You are here to be laughed, cried, to be bored, fucked, and too die and to save an additional 20% on Tuesdays you are freedom its very self now if i could only remember where I put my fucking keys

            suddenly it all makes sense

            all the pain

            all the suffering

            all the terrible Kate Hudson movies…


            you know the truth

            it exists deep within you

            yet it is freely all about

            closer than sound

            closer than breath


            God is doing burnouts

            in the parking lot of the KFC

            Cuz the Colonel is ALIVE!


            tap the keg and rejoice my friends

            look upon this picture

            and know your true face


            You are here to be laughed, cried, to be bored, fucked, and too die

            and to save an additional 20% on Tuesdays

            you are freedom its very self

            now if i could only remember where I put my fucking keys

            14 notes Filed under:  shitty poetry, 76543210, bestofHoC, prose,.
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          by Peter Vidani. For .
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