I mourn my poor friend Silly
Posted: Fri Feb 06, 2009 3:29 amI enter a rank den of fatties that eat Doritos and fail to wash properly. They are nice girls, morbidly obese, and really friendly. ‘Something sure smells good’, I say. ‘We just cooked some burgers on the skillet!’ they shout, some of the ladies are still eating when they inform me and I am sprayed with flecks of hamburger. I work my way through the sea of flesh to the kitchen, open it up and, Tang! I’m a maniac for Tang! ‘The saint leeches untruths from their oily slits’, a spooky voice whispers and I almost drop my cup of Tang. What the fuck was that? I’m ready to debate this spook and show her the light. ‘Deeds we form’, spoke spooky. I call her spooky in my mind just to calm myself down; I wouldn’t dare say it aloud. Shit, maybe I shouldn’t even think it. All suddenly a wind pushed me off my toes and I see her transparent in the doorway. She looks like a million bucks the cat dragged in. She must of died of from a drug over-dose, not on some bullshit either, probably some real primo stuff. She silently moves towards me, ‘A praying mantis sits atop a silo filled with labias.’ Now that’s just weird, she has a purse? A ghost purse, no stranger than having ghost clothes I suppose. I’ll be sure to always dress stylish, it would be bad enough being a ghost, no reason to look lame. Oh I mourn my poor friend Silly, who died naked. If he floated by your window you would just think he was a pervert.