Friday, October 4, 2013


Y'all ain't heard from me in a while, but it's me, Mister Never-You-Mind. Lot a you know I got myself burned up in a New Orleans warehouse very many years ago. Think it was New Orleans. But I was duct tapped to a chair at the time and quite delirious with pain, so certain inaccuracies are bound to creep in. 

I heard 'bout what Romulus Lupine do to that crooked judge. Yeah, big deal. Mauled by a 'dog.' Pitt Bulls do worse. That why I tell you this. Disembodied spirits get around. We drift into lotta spooky shit. Saw a lady put cat piss in her grandma's I.V. bag once. Nurse say - What you doin'???.... Lady say - Nuthin'..... Grandma go - Ack! Ack! Ack!.... Then she leave muddy turd all over the bed. 

Two New York bastids got 'nother game. Call real estate bitch. It can be a man bitch, or a lady bitch. That don't mean nothin'. Say - What kind 'partment you got? .... Then they go wit' him. Ride up in elevator. Clasp hands in front a they junk. Not nobody else's hands. Just they own. Do it at night. It better then. 

Bitch take 'em inside. Got like a key. Say - Marble floor, granite counter, silver metal fridge, silver metal stove, ass squirtin' toilet, all kinds a fancy stuff, yeah-yeah-yeah, rah-rah- rah. 

Two bastids go - What they got out there?... Bitch say - Oh, that the balcony.... But bastids already know that. That why they want a see the place..... Real estate bitch say - Here, lemme show you.... An' they go out. It night. Sky all starry an' all. Got like a helicopter all the way up. Who know? Maybe like Donald Trump, or Anderson Cooper in it.

One a the bastids go - What that?.... Bitch say - That a church. Here, lemme show you..... Bastids go - Okay.... Then when real estate person go up to the edge an' start identifyin' things, like where Barbara Walters once threw up on the street, or Eli Wiesel's dog bit half a Zsa Zsa Gabor's ass, they pick that bitch (man or lady. it don't make no difference) right up an' toss it over. 

Some a them try an' hang on. Gotta break a few fingers. Gouge a few eyes, but mos' only got a couple, so that don't take too long. They sing - Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Think about they kids. Then they fall down. Bastids like that part. Watch 'em go an' say - Wheeeee!

Take a second or two for them to go splat. Sometime, if they land funny, a arm break off, or like a leg look like it doin' a funny dance. Head get all coconutty. Sometime rib come right through the skin. Look like a marionette what got squashed an' crapped on by a elephant. But that jus' my artistic interpretation. 

Them bastids still out there. Sometime they move 'round. Toss people in Philly. Drop some in Boston, maybe Baltimore. Like when that David Letterman used a bus' watermelons, 'cept these watermelons is people. 

'Magine what it like when feet leave the ground. Not the real ground. Like that balcony thing, I mean. Mus' be a very surprisin' situation.

But I wouldn't know, 'cause I got all burned up.

Don't take no vampire, or werewolf to do that shit. 

Human bean do pretty good all by theyself...
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