. . .and medieval leeches too

*Alright, we've already determined that the strongest human desire is,
with few exceptions, to devour in luxury. Miner Bob, despite his
"situation," is not one of those exceptions. Although he's very close.
About as close as you can get without actually being. I met him when
he was still sleeping along the FEC railroad tracks behind a bar I
used to go to. His bedroom was a body-print in the sawgrass, and his
quilt had an eagle stitched on it and was riddled like honeycomb with
cigarette holes. He had to keep lighting cigarettes throughout the
night to keep the mosquitoes away. His living room was a plot of weeds
under some pine trees on the other side of the fence. It consisted of
a couple of swivel bar chairs, and a sawed-off oil drum which hid the
five gallon paint bucket he stuffed his wardrobe and the rest of his
belongings into. But he didn't look like a homeless guy. I guess
that's why everyone, including me, was so suspicious of him at first.
I mean, there was something so gentlemanly in his appearance, what
with his thick gray hair and neatly-trimmed beard, and he was quite
handsome too, for his age. He'd dress in a black dress shirt, an old
maroon tie, and these pleated black slacks that almost looked as if
they'd been starched. He wore black so the cops wouldn't see him at
night, so they wouldn't question who he was. He had an ID, but it was
of some black guy named Reggie Leon Cash. None of us knew his real
name. We only knew him as Miner Bob. He grew up in Miami, he told us,
and Key West, and there was something about Oklahoma also. Some stint
out there with a redhead, and an old retired wrestler who had size 16
feet and was bald as a trailer hitch with little intersecting scars on
his forehead.

-- I'm not finishing the above story. I didn't realize how many
pages it would take. Sorry. I thought I could get it in a couple of
paragraphs, but there's no way. It's true though, or it would've
been. But I would've been here all night doing this. I have places to
go, people to see, you understand. I mean, don't get me wrong. I think
you're all stellar individuals. All, top-notch people of the highest
possible rank, file and order, and I have plenty of time for you. I
mean, I'd take every one of you, at once, a whole busload of you, over
to the house of some relative I haven't seen or talked to in years, or
some to bigwig's house I'm trying desperately to impress. I'd even
take Good Jonesy, who - as I was telling JW - after gargling down
several Pepsis, all but cornered the waitress and dry-humped her to
death when we hung out that one time - later, when she didn't bring
our bill back on time, there was a tense feeling in the air, and Good
Jonesy's head was swimming, from all indications, and I thought he was
going to run over there and physically bring her to the ground and
T-bag her or give her a Dirty Sanchez right in the middle of the
kitchen in front of all the fry cooks.

Anyway, please, don't think I'm being rude. I'd take all of you to
the ends of the earth at once if I could, and I'd even go so far as to
bring my cooking chops along too, Jeff Smith Cutlery and all. We
could probably have a nice ham or something. Maybe a roast, with
carrots and peas. Or, I'm also a real hand at the grill. We could do
that, grill burgers, or, maybe we'd just grab something quick on the
way over there, ya know, on the way over to the ends of the earth.
Hell, maybe a Tombstone pizza would suffice, or Hot Pockets - I'd slap
a few of those down your collective necks, or something at 7-11
perhaps. Maybe a few buffalo chicken subs, or some Monterey beef
go-go taquitos. I picked up an interesting CD-ROM over there the
other day. You know, one of those point-of-purchase products they
like to slip under your nose as you approach the counter. "Operation
Hulking Green Lummox Pt. Deux," some video game I think. I got that
and a penguin lighter and a bag of Corn-Nuts for good measure. And the
guy behind the counter's name was Shokat. Can you believe it? That's
the best one I've seen yet.

At once!


p.s. Did I really just post that garbage? Why, why, why. . . Anyway,
it started off with good intentions.

p.s.s. Hey Jonesy, relax. You know I was joking, babe. Those Pepsis
though. . .

mppowers RemoveThis @aibusiness.net (mppowers) wrote :

<snip>

 > p.s. Did I really just post that garbage?


"nothing is true, everything is permitted"

it's an arabesques or something<!-- ~MESSAGE_AFTER~ -->