Friday, November 14, 2008


"A fox will not shit in the back seat of your bitch's jeep!" He bled and bled out of that noose bruise long after we cut him down. A bird flew into a bowl of Jello.

"You know what they say: it's like eating an orange in a blizzard." We dipped candles in the nude like Adam and Eve. You have no idea what my candle-dipping kit has seen.

"C'mon, trim your pussy hairs at the party -- I want to hear you say something dirty to a doctor or general." Tonight, the walls have beers.

"Take off that ketchup moustache and that big train conductor's hat -- I have a job for you, Warrior." Warrior's leotard was sewn from spiderwebs, his ax molded from a beautiful kind of golden-y metal. Like a supermetal.

Killed in a baseball diamond, his sash was never found. Tracy, his sister, cried tears on hamburger patties at "Big House", Akron's notorious party house. Every tear returned intact was worth a 50 cent donation to the Beautiful Nurse/Private Dick organization.

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