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Now this not like a little back yard cold war bomb shelter. What they got here more like a big, ole, pretentious, suburban ranch house. Contractor put in in years ago when they built the place. That why it got a early 22nd century look. Lemme see. How am I gone describe that to you?...... Picture The Jetsons if they was first cousins with Caligula. Lots a gold gilt, cream colored cushions, fancy control panels fill a colorful screens that flash on and off. Got these metallic veined, marble floors and bidets what shoot the water out so fast you could permanently castrate a horse. But it safe in there. Them communiss goomers from the M.I.R. ain't gettin' in. Done stripped all the upstairs rooms. Communiss' all stompin' 'round in hand-tooled, chupicabra-skin, rodeo boots. Funny, but Karl Marx never predicted such a predilection for fine footwear and premium time pieces. Sweetie-Pie gettin' tired cookin' up all that challah-bread french toast, but that seem to be her job in 'the new regime' and she don't wanna make waves.
Meanwhile, down below, they sleepin two to a room (place got six). So we got Mister Bart and Miss Sissie...Miss Monica and her daughter..... Little Davey and his cousin (Monica's son).....Zeb and his legal wife, India.....an' them two ranch hands and they gum-chewin' wimmen folk. Kind a like a pixilated, crazy version a The Waltons, 'cept with more 'go to hell's' than 'good nights.' Zeb and India's room 'specially rich in them go-to-hells. They echoin' off the walls.
Bart sit up in the little holadome watchin' the news. Empire a China movin' in. Tuva-Tuva folk gone crazy. Communiss goomers eatin' up all the french toast... But, as you know, The Twenty First Century (state of the art Space Train) did get through. So somewhere deep in another subterranean Barsoom bunker that Russian/North American consortium busy spittin' out pulse bombs. Only thing is, they gotta conjure up a good way a deliverin' 'em to the enemy. Right now they fixin' on a plan. Gonna feed little ones to whole mess a big blues (large, sometimes man-eating, locusts). Then they gonna do some kind a hinky-dink and remote control 'em so's they swarm all over them God damn evil folk. You remember what happen to them chupicabra settin' all over that tank? This all work right, we gonna have a big, ole mess a General Sao's Chicken and Texas Pulled Beef in no time.
News say other rich folk got throwed out too. They highlighting all the families....the Gillespies... the Ginsbergs..... the Watkins.... the DiBrunos ... all of 'em. Bart like when they say 'the Texaco's.' He love to hear his name on 'TV.' Shame it gotta be part of a dispossessed oligarchy. But name recognition all that matter...and they gone be back.
Funny thing though.......'TV' goomer never did say the Jonses....... Wonder how 'Stinker' pull that off?
Five heartbeat later, Bart 'sawin' wood.' He snorin' away. Miss Sissie layin' in bed lookin' at some ole, classic, flat-screen movie (I think it Bob & Carol and Ted & Alice). Ranch hands all hootchyin' up they wimmen. This like a vacation for them. Davey and his cousin doin' head transplants on 'genuine-live-miniature-animals. (they got a kit). MonkeyHead-Cobra they favorite.
But Miss Monica ain't doin' nothin'. She jus' lay there, singin' to her daughter and feelin' that baby growin' up inside her.......
~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~~<~<~<~<~<~<~<~<~<~
please hit the SHARE button. please slap a COMMENT on us. thank you all very much.
Meanwhile, down below, they sleepin two to a room (place got six). So we got Mister Bart and Miss Sissie...Miss Monica and her daughter..... Little Davey and his cousin (Monica's son).....Zeb and his legal wife, India.....an' them two ranch hands and they gum-chewin' wimmen folk. Kind a like a pixilated, crazy version a The Waltons, 'cept with more 'go to hell's' than 'good nights.' Zeb and India's room 'specially rich in them go-to-hells. They echoin' off the walls.
Bart sit up in the little holadome watchin' the news. Empire a China movin' in. Tuva-Tuva folk gone crazy. Communiss goomers eatin' up all the french toast... But, as you know, The Twenty First Century (state of the art Space Train) did get through. So somewhere deep in another subterranean Barsoom bunker that Russian/North American consortium busy spittin' out pulse bombs. Only thing is, they gotta conjure up a good way a deliverin' 'em to the enemy. Right now they fixin' on a plan. Gonna feed little ones to whole mess a big blues (large, sometimes man-eating, locusts). Then they gonna do some kind a hinky-dink and remote control 'em so's they swarm all over them God damn evil folk. You remember what happen to them chupicabra settin' all over that tank? This all work right, we gonna have a big, ole mess a General Sao's Chicken and Texas Pulled Beef in no time.
News say other rich folk got throwed out too. They highlighting all the families....the Gillespies... the Ginsbergs..... the Watkins.... the DiBrunos ... all of 'em. Bart like when they say 'the Texaco's.' He love to hear his name on 'TV.' Shame it gotta be part of a dispossessed oligarchy. But name recognition all that matter...and they gone be back.
Funny thing though.......'TV' goomer never did say the Jonses....... Wonder how 'Stinker' pull that off?
Five heartbeat later, Bart 'sawin' wood.' He snorin' away. Miss Sissie layin' in bed lookin' at some ole, classic, flat-screen movie (I think it Bob & Carol and Ted & Alice). Ranch hands all hootchyin' up they wimmen. This like a vacation for them. Davey and his cousin doin' head transplants on 'genuine-live-miniature-animals. (they got a kit). MonkeyHead-Cobra they favorite.
But Miss Monica ain't doin' nothin'. She jus' lay there, singin' to her daughter and feelin' that baby growin' up inside her.......
~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~>~~<~<~<~<~<~<~<~<~<~
please hit the SHARE button. please slap a COMMENT on us. thank you all very much.
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