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Just what the hell do you think is gonna be the defining issue on this planet in the next ten years? Well, I'll tell you. And the thing is, you probably know. You're just too God damn dumb and lazy to say it. - said Miss India.
Zeb just sat there, sippin' his big, 'old fashioned' glass a 'Jack.' He did that every night. It was part of his routine. 'My medication' he called it. And he just stared off into the middle distance and let her go.
You know them son-a-bitches in Washington gonna start tongue-kissin' them Tuva-Tuva bastards. It makes me sick. It makes me want to vomit. 'Give 'em the vote'.....'Integrate 'em into society'..... Oh, I can't stand it. Look how they go walkin' 'round town with them wigs plastered down on their bald heads, like that's gonna make 'em look any more human. - she hissed.
They are 'human,' just a subspecies, or somethin' - mumbled her semi-sedated husband. DNA tes' proves that. Do we know how they got all the way out here by theyselves? No we do not. But apparently sometime back in the good old days, our orange tinged brothers got a lift. From who and what for is still a mystery. What you wanna do, hook us up with them fascists? - said Zeb. Man, could that boy hold his liquor.
They ain't fascists. They just a little bit practical. That is all. Now you just get youself dressed. He gonna be here any minute. And you gonna be standin' right there next to me when he come in.
Her mate sighed, got up, dropped the towel and went into the wardrobe chamber, but he did take that half empty glass a Jack with him. India sat back in the chair (a Kennedy Presidency reproduction) takin' stock a things.
Don't you spill none a that crap! You hear!?- she yelled. I ain't gonna have that low-life stink in my house no more!
He just shook his head and grinned. Wifie-poo hate when he do that. She knows what it means. This house ain't hers. This is Texaco territory.
But she pretended not to notice. Just glared back, sizin' him up......... You know what that crap is doin' to you? - she says, It's givin' you chest like a tittie-woman.
He knew that was not true..... Well, not 'real' true. But she was happy she said it, 'cause it did shove a burr up his ass. She could tell by the way he spin hisself 'round to look in the mirror. Tittie-woman, tittie-woman, tittie-woman. He hate that word. Old Man, Hobart, used to throw it at him when he was little. Zeb used to be a whole lot fatter back then.
So they groomed theyselves up like prize sky-ponies, stepped into the elevator and rode down to smile at their guest. Shame she had a little bit a lipstick on one a them Bugs Bunny teeth.
Zeb saw, but he didn't say no God damed thing.
And then the doorbell rang.........
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Zeb just sat there, sippin' his big, 'old fashioned' glass a 'Jack.' He did that every night. It was part of his routine. 'My medication' he called it. And he just stared off into the middle distance and let her go.
You know them son-a-bitches in Washington gonna start tongue-kissin' them Tuva-Tuva bastards. It makes me sick. It makes me want to vomit. 'Give 'em the vote'.....'Integrate 'em into society'..... Oh, I can't stand it. Look how they go walkin' 'round town with them wigs plastered down on their bald heads, like that's gonna make 'em look any more human. - she hissed.
They are 'human,' just a subspecies, or somethin' - mumbled her semi-sedated husband. DNA tes' proves that. Do we know how they got all the way out here by theyselves? No we do not. But apparently sometime back in the good old days, our orange tinged brothers got a lift. From who and what for is still a mystery. What you wanna do, hook us up with them fascists? - said Zeb. Man, could that boy hold his liquor.
They ain't fascists. They just a little bit practical. That is all. Now you just get youself dressed. He gonna be here any minute. And you gonna be standin' right there next to me when he come in.
Her mate sighed, got up, dropped the towel and went into the wardrobe chamber, but he did take that half empty glass a Jack with him. India sat back in the chair (a Kennedy Presidency reproduction) takin' stock a things.
Don't you spill none a that crap! You hear!?- she yelled. I ain't gonna have that low-life stink in my house no more!
He just shook his head and grinned. Wifie-poo hate when he do that. She knows what it means. This house ain't hers. This is Texaco territory.
But she pretended not to notice. Just glared back, sizin' him up......... You know what that crap is doin' to you? - she says, It's givin' you chest like a tittie-woman.
He knew that was not true..... Well, not 'real' true. But she was happy she said it, 'cause it did shove a burr up his ass. She could tell by the way he spin hisself 'round to look in the mirror. Tittie-woman, tittie-woman, tittie-woman. He hate that word. Old Man, Hobart, used to throw it at him when he was little. Zeb used to be a whole lot fatter back then.
So they groomed theyselves up like prize sky-ponies, stepped into the elevator and rode down to smile at their guest. Shame she had a little bit a lipstick on one a them Bugs Bunny teeth.
Zeb saw, but he didn't say no God damed thing.
And then the doorbell rang.........
/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\
=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l=l
wanna do us a favor and click on that SHARE button down there? thank you kindly. your comments are sincerely welcomed.
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