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 4, 2011 9:54 pm
            I rake the tits and ass into neat piles I wallpaper the roaring void with kitten pictures and still God refuses to arm wrestle me. “Who’s halo do you have to blow to get a rootbeer float round here?” I holler. There is no reply. Only the sound of a leaky faucet and the sighs of a million bored prophets, all living in the eternal now.

            I rake the tits and ass into neat piles

            I wallpaper the roaring void with kitten pictures

            and still God refuses to arm wrestle me.

            “Who’s halo do you have to blow to get a rootbeer float round here?”

            I holler. There is no reply. Only the sound of a leaky faucet

            and the sighs of a million bored prophets,

            all living in the eternal now.

            1. thedailydoodles said: Love it. —DMC
            2. reblogged this from hookersorcake and added:
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            4. said: WHOOOO Are you ??? this is FANTASTIC!
            5. reblogged this from hookersorcake
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            9. said: Brilliant!
            10. hookersorcake posted this