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BINGO BOY - post 45
Almost couldn't post tonight. Hard to find a narrator. you do know it's ghosts what do this? I don't know if 'ghost' is the right word. To me we're all just good, normal people who've lost our physical bodies. We see. We hear. We touch. We do all that stuff.... I don't know HOW we do it without nerve endings. But just because we're dead don't mean we know everything. I saw God drive by once. I think it was God. I waved. He just tapped the horn a little. My friend Tipsky says God looks different to every species. Humans see a human. Them what comes from other places see not-so-humans. But folks here are sad. Them little dumplings what came in from Connecticut didn't help. But what, you think they were the only ones? Tragedy happens like the rain. And it happens because we let it. Folks are good at going 'tisk-tisk-tisk.' I hate them teeth suckers. They went 'tisk-tisk-tisk' about Auschwitz and the Titanic and The Great Hunger and The Armenians. You want me to go on? And I'm just talkin' about the last two centuries.
Little dumplings are settlin' in though. Some wit' grannies and grand-pops. Some with great grannies and great grand-pops. They mostly don't understand what happened. They just know they're here. And they cry for them what ain't. 'Cause look at it this way... You're 'dead' to them. Sure we send messages back and forth through dreams or lose circuits or dusty table tops. But it ain't the same.
What, you wanna know my name? They called me Mister Tibbs.... No they didn't. I just couldn't resist. I'm sorry. That was the last picture I seen before I died. I like movies. Saw Liz Taylor on the street once. Up here, I mean. Looked good too. Was goin' somewhere with Mike Todd. But I knew it was her. I go - Yo, Liz...... She didn't really look my way, but she smiled a little. Tipsky said she looked drunk. What? You don't think we can get drunk?... OK, believe that, if you want. What do I care. We got scotch and slivovitz and beer and shrimp and puddin' cups and everything. Plus, nobody ever gets bloated.... Maybe they do in hell, or what you'd call 'hell,' but not here. I ain't laid a fart in forty years.
My name's Louis. That's who I am. An' I died from o-beast-ity. Ate hot dogs and onion rings and Tasty Kakes and fried matzoh and I ain't even Jewish. Don't ask me why. That's all I'm gonna tell you.. I'm Louis.
But I will tell you a little bit 'bout what's gone on in Marge's house. Everybody real quiet in there. Walkin' around wit' just their socks on. I don't mean they's naked. I just mean no shoes. Sometime they just sits and stares. Got some money. But not enough. Marge makes coffee, maybe open up a can a soup or two. Little Chrissie jus' look at television. Don't watch . Jus' look. Ricky just sit in a old vinyl reclining chair like he Ca-Ca's Mother. That who give it to them, after she stunk it up real good. Marge wipe it down with Lysol, but stink not gone. It jus' hidin'.
Baby still his ole cheerful self, rollin' around in his playpen. Goin' 'uh oh' when he poop a little. He like scrambled egg wit' milk in it. Ricky make him some. Too-Many-Cookies still laid up. I doan know why they call it 'walkin' pneumonia. Should call it 'flat on you ass' pneumonia.
Marge cry when she think about Jimmy. He her last, best hope... even if they had a capture him for her. But now he gone and that studio-apartment-jail-cell in the basement ain't nothin' like it was.
Ain't they told you Jimmy bought a big diamond ring? Well, that was yesterday. Now he got hisself a fancy car , plus a whole lot a other 'spensive shit. Know how much was in that safe deposit box? Three hundred thousand dollar. And that was just the first one, 'cause a little note at the bottom led him to a second......
And Marty don't know a God damned thing...
'Scuse me now. They comin' 'round wit' 'pigs-in-a-blanket.'
______________________________________________
Almost couldn't post tonight. Hard to find a narrator. you do know it's ghosts what do this? I don't know if 'ghost' is the right word. To me we're all just good, normal people who've lost our physical bodies. We see. We hear. We touch. We do all that stuff.... I don't know HOW we do it without nerve endings. But just because we're dead don't mean we know everything. I saw God drive by once. I think it was God. I waved. He just tapped the horn a little. My friend Tipsky says God looks different to every species. Humans see a human. Them what comes from other places see not-so-humans. But folks here are sad. Them little dumplings what came in from Connecticut didn't help. But what, you think they were the only ones? Tragedy happens like the rain. And it happens because we let it. Folks are good at going 'tisk-tisk-tisk.' I hate them teeth suckers. They went 'tisk-tisk-tisk' about Auschwitz and the Titanic and The Great Hunger and The Armenians. You want me to go on? And I'm just talkin' about the last two centuries.
Little dumplings are settlin' in though. Some wit' grannies and grand-pops. Some with great grannies and great grand-pops. They mostly don't understand what happened. They just know they're here. And they cry for them what ain't. 'Cause look at it this way... You're 'dead' to them. Sure we send messages back and forth through dreams or lose circuits or dusty table tops. But it ain't the same.
What, you wanna know my name? They called me Mister Tibbs.... No they didn't. I just couldn't resist. I'm sorry. That was the last picture I seen before I died. I like movies. Saw Liz Taylor on the street once. Up here, I mean. Looked good too. Was goin' somewhere with Mike Todd. But I knew it was her. I go - Yo, Liz...... She didn't really look my way, but she smiled a little. Tipsky said she looked drunk. What? You don't think we can get drunk?... OK, believe that, if you want. What do I care. We got scotch and slivovitz and beer and shrimp and puddin' cups and everything. Plus, nobody ever gets bloated.... Maybe they do in hell, or what you'd call 'hell,' but not here. I ain't laid a fart in forty years.
My name's Louis. That's who I am. An' I died from o-beast-ity. Ate hot dogs and onion rings and Tasty Kakes and fried matzoh and I ain't even Jewish. Don't ask me why. That's all I'm gonna tell you.. I'm Louis.
But I will tell you a little bit 'bout what's gone on in Marge's house. Everybody real quiet in there. Walkin' around wit' just their socks on. I don't mean they's naked. I just mean no shoes. Sometime they just sits and stares. Got some money. But not enough. Marge makes coffee, maybe open up a can a soup or two. Little Chrissie jus' look at television. Don't watch . Jus' look. Ricky just sit in a old vinyl reclining chair like he Ca-Ca's Mother. That who give it to them, after she stunk it up real good. Marge wipe it down with Lysol, but stink not gone. It jus' hidin'.
Baby still his ole cheerful self, rollin' around in his playpen. Goin' 'uh oh' when he poop a little. He like scrambled egg wit' milk in it. Ricky make him some. Too-Many-Cookies still laid up. I doan know why they call it 'walkin' pneumonia. Should call it 'flat on you ass' pneumonia.
Marge cry when she think about Jimmy. He her last, best hope... even if they had a capture him for her. But now he gone and that studio-apartment-jail-cell in the basement ain't nothin' like it was.
Ain't they told you Jimmy bought a big diamond ring? Well, that was yesterday. Now he got hisself a fancy car , plus a whole lot a other 'spensive shit. Know how much was in that safe deposit box? Three hundred thousand dollar. And that was just the first one, 'cause a little note at the bottom led him to a second......
And Marty don't know a God damned thing...
'Scuse me now. They comin' 'round wit' 'pigs-in-a-blanket.'
______________________________________________
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