thubea

There was a woman singing in Greek and I began to wonder if this was the end of my life.  I could not recall a time when I did not want to die.  I need to make it a double feature tonight.  It’s worth a try, right?  It’s worth a goddamn try as Myer would say.  My stay at the hotel was unceremoniously interrupted last night, my fault really for being so deplorable.  Johns was talking to me about the brand of Peach nectar he was trying out early in the mornings but I wasn’t paying him much attention.  It was either the previous night or night before that in which I’d become inebriated down at Vanessa’s Spittoon and briefly befriended a man telling me all manner of things about the Congene virus and the covert distribution which occurred in inner cities during the 1970’s and 1980’s strange men who wore green suits and carried outdated newspapers.  Even then during those precarious moments my attention was dominated by several vedettes. 

Rich’s Gasoline sells the best Steno notepads and detailed instructions were written by the steadiest of hands long ago.  Thoughts of suicide don’t frighten me, of course.  I wonder if I should have gone to the electrical company, maybe then someone would have reached out a scaly hand and offered me a chance to purchase real prime real estate.  Maybe I should have taken Richards up on that offer when I was being given the grand tour of storage space and allowed all access to the great and grate annals of waste and regret.  Where has all the pulchritude gone? 

I wrote that word on a card once and then it disappeared.  Have you seen this insect?  I wrote that on a flyer and stapled them all over lampposts and people came running from nine different major metropolitan areas, all rambling about their grandchildren and sports blazers and I could only roll my eyes and say “just you wait until I glue uncooked macaroni onto some particle board and use that to surf around the collective and ever distilling lake of reproductive fluids our great forefathers and foremothers left behind when they bought the proverbial barn house.”  Jenni the Vedette gave a public discourse on the advantages of compound interest and low risk mutual funds while Lorena the Vedette was preparing some delicious homemade guacamole in the corner and I must embarrassingly confess I was staring at her rich and ample derriere the entire time and wishing she would take a load off on my humble and happy face. 

Suddenly and without warning there was a flashback to a previous dreadful morning where Fredericks was imparting to me the necessity of completing all the forms by noon the following day and there was a moment of pure panic when I realized I hadn’t yet completed a one.  Just make sure all the lines are straight and the numbers add up, he said.  There was furious reverse facesitting going on and the vedettes were laughing and berating me all the while.  Eventually my face was their collective footrest and the potent perfume of pantyhose and sweat brought about by countless hours of well choreographed dancing provoked an erection so fierce and stone-hard I would later use it as a bat in the annual office softball game when we played against our old rivals the Inner City Tornadoes (after the game we all gathered around for cheeseburgers and beer, the amusing house wine).  You can make lots of money if you stick with me, kid.  The sad truth is that I hadn’t been a kid in many years.  My God, there were thousands of centipedes right there in the corner and they disgusted and terrified me and I knew Fredericks was receiving oral sex from the new intern Holloway right there in the next room so soon after he reprimanded me.  At least he was cordial enough to provide me with a tall frosty glass of whole milk to consume while I worked.  I counted no less than 17 jets pass by my office during the first hour, leaving their chemtrails behind. 

somewhere, I knew that a queen was searching for her sun.  I missed Adamari’s legs this morning and the realization of this set public education back at least a further 17 years.  I began to wonder if I was still destined to have nine children named Richard Karn as it was once predicted.  5 hours later I was eating mangos and drinking black coffee and couldn’t remember why I was so convinced…. Is there anything more awful than being a parent?  These scallywags are coming for yours falsely.  I only wish for The Jackal’s interference.  I realized after talking to him that he is he is an uncaring thing and everything s/he, he, she, we, he, it’s all related and everything is you. 

Tell it to a Cubs fan, Johns said to me and I knew he was right.  The man has his own submarine after all!  Hell, I’m no mastermind.  If only Ingrid had been by my side I may have been able to properly recover the stolen plutonium.  Come to think of it, why didn’t I just construct the door of my posh flat out of plutonium? 

“I was wearing this pair of Secrets in Lace 7 denier fishnet pantyhose yesterday while learning 9 different yet equally complicated dancing routines,” Jennie the Vedette explained to me, her honeyed words accented by the Mexican sun.  At one point the pantyhose were in my mouth and one point the homemade guac was in my mouth and at one point they both were and the vedettes were prophesying and this was when sperm bullets shot off with remarkable power, range and above average accuracy, leaving behind a majestic rainbow with the world’s tiniest pot of gold residing at its lowest point. 

Yes, I went to a movie by myself and there was no one else in the cinema and it felt so good and when it was over red hot tears were running down my face and I wanted nothing more than to blow my brains out but dag-nab-it I’d forgotten me pistol!  I suppose I think about taking my own life an awful lot.  I’m thinking about it now and still crying while I drink white wine.  Am I turning into a werewolf?  Why do I feel so awful all the time?  It was then, while eating a large stack of blueberry pancakes lathered in gold plated maple syrup with a side of nuclear fission that I realized we are all repulsive shapeless blobs of skin and hair and fluids desperately looking to strike up the rank and unflattering connection that we may scream and gurn and discharge.  Oh we are so repulsive I think as I beg her to laugh at me and stuff her red neck tie in my mouth.