The Seven Deadly Dwarfs

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The Sins Of The Son Are The Sins That Go Farther

Sins! Oh sweet Mama are we all guilty of sins. I even remember the righteous Jimmy Swaggart crying “I have sinned” although I suspect the tears were because he was caught. Who among us has not sinned? Personally I will cop to multiple sinning that may borer on serial or pathologic qualification. The degree of sins I have committed has allegedly assured me a special place in hell. Allegedly!! By that I mean if there is a hell and if so then it also contains special places. When I think about it, which honestly isn’t often, hell couldn’t be as bad as those sanctimonious truth babblers would have me believe. I mean shit, when I die they tell me I have a choice of only two places, heaven or hell. That’s all the options I get. In heaven I get to sit by the throne of the almighty. No TV, no music, (except some mind numbing harp strumming by Angels), no board games, nothing! Jut sit by the throne with a bunch of goody-goods twittling thumbs. Can’t even think about the fun shit like sex and….well sex. In that case heaven is a place to go to get bored to insanity. Not this boy, I plan to fly over the cuckoo’s nest. Or if Hell is where they say it is then under it. Put me on that elevator straight to hell. Let me live out my days being naked, roasting marshmallows, and sinning like the devil with a shitload of other sinners. A place where sex, drugs, and rock and roll are not only encouraged, but required. Daily entertainment!
So what makes a sin a sin anyway? Who decided what was okay and what was not? How in the hell did someone come up with The Seven Deadly sins? I know what you think, I’m about to start bashing the cross waving holier than thou Christians again, but nope. Uh uh, not this time. This time I point the finger at The Brothers Grimm. In 1812 they took these fire and brimstone causing seven sins to a new level. Whats worse their partner in perpetuation Walt Disney himself injected subliminally into the mainstream. Yup, today I blame this shit on Snow White.
Seven dwarfs and seven deadly sins! Coincidence? Hardly! Each one of those diminutive diamond mining denizens represent a sin. And the true tales are full of drugs and parties and enough sex to make the entire population of munchkins giggle with delight. Not convinced yet? Well then allow me to break this shit down!
Wrath. The sin of rage and uncontrollable anger. Why so angry? Well Plick was cut off. One fateful day in the diamond mine he attempted to steal some diamonds by swallowing them. He was caught, and the others had a group meeting an agreed that this dwarf was banned from alcohol, weed and coke for six months. Even the lady dwarfs denied him sex. Not only that, he still had to shit out the diamonds without any painkillers. You’d be Grumpy too!
Sloth. The sin of laziness. If that’s true I am one major sinning son of a bitch sinner because I have a masters degree in procrastination. But back to the dwarfs. In the bed next to Grumpy slept Perzlebaum. Perzlebaum was very clever and the first to realize that he had access to Grumpy’s banned stash. Purzle drank so much whisky and puffed up so much weed he passed out. Fuckin’ Perzle slept for three days straight and it caused permanent dammage to his orbital muscles. With his constantly drooping eyes, he earned the name Sleepy.
Lust. The sin of intense desire. Packe was also somewhat of an opportunistic party hound and noticed the lady dwarfs shunning his buddy. Packe woke up each day with that male teenage bane, morning wood. At firt he took matters into his own hand, but then the idea came. Grumpys ladies will be lonely. Oh he satisfied his normal urges at night in the dwarf bars, but now after 4AM he also prowled the lonely of the night that had once been busy with Grumpy. He engaged in sexual trysts on a scale of many a mans fantasy, sometimes having as many as four ladies a night. He even started experimenting with trans gender dwarfs He became an orgasm addict. Poor Packe fucked himself silly. Literally! He fucked his own brains out. He is still off balance and to this day still known as Dopey.
Envy.The sin of jealousy. Now comes Huckepack. He was once considered somewhat of a dwarf ladies man, a playa amongst playa’s. But he noticed how easily Dopey was getting laid and it bothered him. Huckepack wanted a piece of the action and not just the plain looking ones, he wanted to go after the super hot little juicy fruits. When he finally did score the dwarfette of his dreams he was stoked. No, not stroked you pervert, stoked! Once in the bedroom he was over excited, and he stripped immediately. He had not taken into account that he had just returned from swimming. Uh huh, shrinkage! Juicy fruits eyes went directly to his compromised dwarf hood. One look at his shrunken treasure and his naked conquest let out an emasculating giggle. She then said to him “Who are you expecting to please with that tiny thing?” Embarrased and angry Huckepack looked at her horrified sreaming “ME BITCH!” But it was not a save. She hit him below the belt and his confidence was rocked to all hell. He grabbed his clothes and ran out in tears of shame. He never worked up the nerve (Thats not a euphanism) to talk to her or any other women ever again. He was labeled Bahsful.
Pride. The sin of self indulgance. Many consider this to be the worst, holding ones own esteem so much higher than everyone else’s. My oldest brother is like that, always better than the ret of us. I’m sure he’s somewhere looking down on us all right now. He’s not dead, he’s just a condescending ass. But this is the story of Rumplebold. This young dwarf was quite enterprising. His biggest problem was he believed he deserved the best of everything. He was entitles to everything that the dwarfs had and then some. With the others using up all of Grumpy’s weed and whisky it was Rumplebold who deserved the most expensive part of the stash. At least he thought he did so he confiscated the entire cache of Grumpy’s cocaine and went to town. Rumple did lines of coke everywhere he went and all day and night. He was wired to the max. He tried to hide it from the others, but it was impossible. Dude was sneezing white power from his nose regularly. There was so much blow up his nostrils he couldn’t stop sneezing. Yup, Sneezy.
Gluttony. The sin of over-consumption. Ah yea, too much of everything, no moderation what so ever. This has to be Puck. Puck may have been the cleverest of all seven. Puck knew just what he wanted. Everything! And lots of it. What made him clever was knowing how to take what he desired without raising awareness. He was slick and had an ample supply of whisky, weed, and women. His big problem was munchies. He was the one who did the weekly food shopping and always went right after puffing a fatty. The others never even knew that he bought and stashed boxes of ring dings,ho-ho’s and double stuffed oreo’s. Ate himself silly. He became fat and jolly. Oh yea, he was one happy Puck. Always smiling, always laughing, always…..Happy.
Greed. The sin of material pursuit. This brings us around to our last dwarf, Naseweis. Ole Nasy was greedy from the start. He wanted flat screens, and smartphones, designer clothes, expensive jewelry, and a Bentley to take into LA to shop at Rodeo Drive. He had a hunger for living in the material world and wanted a material girl. Maybe even shag Madonna. But how could he afford all these things? An idea struck him. He went online and bought a fake doctorate from WebMD and began selling scripts to the other six. It’s rumored he even sold a script for Propranol to the wicked witch. No matter, he recognized the weaknesses in all of us and exploited it as a doctor. Even though it was fake it worked, and they all go to “Doc” when they want vial of feel good.
So that’s it. That’s why I blame these fictional characters for creating the seven deadly sins. I’m calling them out. Who knows, maybe it will even start a whole new religion. Or at least a sect. The Seventh Sin Adventists or something. We can be known as Dwarfies. We will pray for illicit happenings, sing about sinful exploits, and even approve same sect marriage. Maybe I’ll even get my own compound out of the deal. We’ll lock ourselves in and commit every sin possible. You can come and join if you want, all sinners no saints! Just remember, I am a shameless sinner, so if I do offer you some Kool Aid, make sure it’s the electric kind. Have a nice trip……PEACE

The First Books Of The Cold Testament

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There Aughta be a Law
So now the scene was set for the so called “Old Testament” to branch out in different area’s. This is where it gets kinda murky with a few different accounts of what happened next. But like an automobile accident, everyone swears that their story is the (Insert name of favorite Creator)‘s honest truth, and of course the truth will set you free. Or will it? The Roamings chose to be monotheist and worshipped God as told by Abraham, the Muscle’ems also monotheist but called their god Allah. Mosey led the remaining suffering juice into their holy land insisting to them all that they were the chosen ones. But chosen by whom and for what? The adventure begins
Mosey decides he should clear up the laws for the Juice in their long bloody trek to the promised land so he began writing his fifth book. He had already written four others. His first was titled Genesis, and it was about how things began according to the disciples, Peter, Gabriel, Phil, and Collins (not Tom Collins, the other one). His second work of fiction was called “Exodus” and it was based on a song by Bob Marley. (easy on the ganja next time Mosey) His third book was a math book he called simply “Numbers” and his fourth a short story about the maker of blue jeans which he called “Levi-ticus. The working title of his fifth and final book was “ Dude-a-Ramen Noodle” but that may change due to Ron or me. It’s main purpose will be to set all the laws required to become the chosen ones, the real Juice. During the years they wandered in search of the real estate they were promised Mosey made up those laws. He created dietary laws, (pissed off the pig farmers) sexual laws, laws of marriage, laws for religious festivals and ceremonies, and the most important law of all. The mother of all Mitzvah laws. The law insisting that every family has a no holds barred all out extravagant party their children when they reach the age of 12 or 13. (boys take longer to mature).
But first things first, on to the promise land. Mosey surveyed his able body men and decided to make Joshua his general. Joshua was a strong and smart man who was once the world wrestling federation champ. He had also trained at Far West Point, the highly regarded Ninja military school run by Genghis Kahn. Joshua began getting his troops in shape with exercises and combat training games. In two short months he had a formidable assembly of fine tuned fighting machines. And good thing too because it wasn’t long until the first battle.
In their quest to take the promise land they came upon a mighty river they needed to cross in order to proceed. Mosey had been told by Yehaw that he was not to cross the river, but to allow Joshua to take over and lead his people. His task was complete and it was time for him to pack it in, to buy the farm He had to die. After all, it had been a great 4,000 years and he was losing his hair, bladder control, and the arthritis was getting too painful. So here it was that instead of a sea parting, it was Mosey and Joshua. “Josh my friend, our years together have at last come to an end. I leave it up to you to lead our people into the promised land. Just promise me that when you do you play nice with the neighbors.” Joshua smiled and shook his head while he place his hand behind his back and crossed his fingers. “I promise you dear friend Mosey, I will lead our people into the promised land and treat our neighbors like they were family.” With that, Mosey went off to die peacefully and Joshua uncrossed his fingers, smiled, and mumbled to himself, “Like the abusive family that fucking abandoned me, hehehe.”

GODSEX SAVES (From plague to pleasure)

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“I’ll have her screaming Oh My Fucking Mortal that felt good”
Sacrificing became the norm. They sacrificed everything assuming the gods must be hungry and too lazy to cook. Some asshole started thinking maybe the gods aren’t hungry, maybe they’re horny. They began sacrificing the young women . Oh please!? Like a god could create all kinds of catastrophic events but was incapable of getting laid? What the fuck were they thinking? But sacrifice the young maidens they did. They also began talking to the gods and even singing songs to them. Another very curious habit had begun. Instead of leaving the bodies to decay and replenish Garden Earth they began to bury the bodies. What?? It really confused Cosmo. What was the point of putting the bodies underground? They collectively decided that there was an afterlife and didn’t want their people to be all chewed up and maggoty when they arrived there. Soon religions were popping up left and right, with all kinds of crazy rules and the most bizarre fashion statements ever! What in the bottomless pit of fire are they putting on their heads? Tall hats, pointy hats, skullcaps, and one religion put some weird little place mat over the bald spots at the back of their heads. One of Cosmo’s favorite practical joke were to make his men people lose the hair on their heads, only to find it coming out of their ears an noses. And they were covering up the spots of skin that earned him so much props when talked about at inter-galactic bars. All in all it the most curious new trait of his youmans was when they began to display compassion for the dead. They mourned them an adorned them, wrapped them and boxed them, then covered them in dirt or hid them from sight. They were moving away from animism and the use of collective conscience. Major cultural shifts had taken place and it seemed to be virtually simultaneous throughout the garden. Things were getting out of control, and some crazy shit started happening that had all of them fearing their respective gods.
It was around that time when some really bad and unexplainable shit went down. In the future they would be known as the “Great Plagues” and written down in books as the truth. At first Cosmo did not think much of it but soon he had become suspicious that someone was sabotaging his planet. It started near the big river in the middle east section of Europe in The May Anne Curl Crescent. ( No doubt if Freud had been alive he would have assigned the likeness of the crescent to an entirely different area of Mary Anne’s body. Perhaps that was what truly made it fertile?!). Somehow a large section of the Denial River turned all red with some foreign substance similar to blood. It killed all the fish and aquatic life in the area and poisoned the water. Fish and chips were the main diet staple around the river and many got sick form eating spoiled fish out of desperation. Others refused to eat the tainted sea morals and were starving to death. Curious it was, but it wasn’t until a while afterward when that populated area became absolutely overrun by frogs. It was then that Cosmo remembered the Tribble story. Hiss first impulse was a little joke played on him by the goddess Lucille. “I’m surprised at Lucy. These aren’t cute furry little things these are gross and causing all sorts of warts and boils on my you mans. Lucy…..you got some splainin’ to do!” He called his friend Lucille but she denied having anything to do with it. She ha once played a joke on mmmmm in the nnnnn galaxy that got out of hand. Friggen Tribbles everywhere! She swore it wasn’t her and promised to come by in a day and have a look. Time for Cosmo to straighten up his god pad , he would be entertaining a lady god friend. He cleaned up his bachelor pad and stocked his cabinets with food, god beer, and of course some Meade Plus.
Lucille was perhaps the most beautiful of all the goddesses. She had huge inviting eyes and an almost perfectly round face that adorned smooth white and flawless skin. High cheekbones and huge ebony black eyes gave her a cosmically refined appearance. Her hair was her most recognizable trait. It was bright crimson red, thick and full with large interloping banana curls that danced around her pretty face. An unusually tall goddess she carried her frame effortlessly on extremely muscular and exquisitely long legs that she was more than proud to display in tight fitted sexy split skirts. Always in heels she was a vision of beauty that would have driven any of Cosmos man people to Light-years of insanity, and beyond. A curvy torso without a trace of fat and what could be described accurately as a “treasure” chest made Lucy one of if not the most desired goddess in the universes. But the thing Cosmo loved most above all was her witty and engaging personality. She commanded attention whenever she spoke and had the sharpest wit of anyone Cosmo knew. Cosmo was as nervous as a schoolchild and began to stutter the moment she walked in. “Great sa-sa-singularity you are a vi-vision of beauty.” Lucille shook her head and smiled, “Relax Coz, I’m not here as a conquest I’m here as a friend. But you never know what may happen. Its been a millennium since I’ve been ridden by a god of your intoxicating love skills. Lets have us a drink first and see if we can get your frog infestation toad away.” The glint in her eye assured him the pun was intended and Cosmo chuckled nervously. “Its been quite a while for me as well Luce.” His nervousness was exiting and confidence making a triumphant return. “I’m not sure if I have what it takes to please you lovely Lucille but I would hop, skip, and jump a chance bring you over your limit.” Cosmo gave an enticing wink and Lucille gave a shudder of anticipation. “And I’ll deflate that bulge you have that call my name. But first, lets have that drink and get this ugly plague business out of the way. Tt had gotten much worse than just blood in the water. Frogs! Cosmo updated her on his situation, “The frogs have caused contagious welts and boils and brought about a plague of lice, gnats, and millions of grasshoppers.” Lucille showed a look of real concern. “Contagions are not usually Botchiegalloup’s MO, but everything else sounds like it could be his dirty work. Let me help you clean it up. I’ll start with those insects. They aren’t grasshoppers but locusts. That’s an all out plague of locust too. Locust are even worse than grasshoppers. They have an appetite equal to your sex drive” Lucille glanced at Cosmo’s bulge again and her eyes glittered a rainbow of prism that sent Goosebumps up his thighs right to his scrotal sac. His bulge tried even harder to stand at attention and he knew he would be working through the night and possibly into the morning in his multiple attempts to give Lucille coital satisfactions. The smile she flashed him let him know it would not be all work on his part. Well not literally anyway. “They’ll eat any and all fauna you have in your garden. Ever since that Triible prank Spock and I have been working on infestation control. We used this to control a precious mouse problem Simon had in the Hobbit Shire. A few sprays of Sauron gas will do the trick but the bigger issue is finding out who did this to you.“. Another playful grin. “I expect to be played like a grand piano tonight maestro.” With the grace of a butterfly Lucille flapped two winglets and the wind it created spread the Sauron gas to the effected areas. This simple flapping of butterfly wings set off a series of events that destroyed the locust, the frogs, washed the blood from the Nile and created a severe weather pattern that would one day become known as El Nino. When she turned to look at Cosmo her hair lit up a neon red and her eyes glowed a fluorescent black signaling she was ready for the intimated romp in the clouds. Satisfying a goddess was beyond the typical gods payscale but Cosmo had an unusual eagerness to satisfy which left him quite in demand with the goddesses all over. Cosmo was obligated now to work all night and give it the old college try. If any god could bring about a climax to a goddess it would be Cosmo.
So another evening of bliss was staring Cosmo in the eye and he was up to the task. He applied many of his skillful tricks and spent nearly five hours pleasuring the beautiful Lucile who squirmed with delight. She squealed like as if she had just won the happiest labia lottery. But she had still not climaxed fully and Cosmo was losing stamina. It was time for Cosmo to insert his secret weapon. Literally. He positioned his head at a right angle directly below the clitoral forest and his tongue sprouted from between his lips to deliver the orgasm inducing move. This was Cosmos signature sex move and never failed on non gods. But this was Lucille, and he would need to add all the extra umphh a god can muster. The point of Cosmos tongue entered the love canal with the force of a dragon in heat. He twisted it and twirled it getting it soaking wet and ready. Now for the big move. Cosmo laid her back, spread her legs with her feet pointing a perfect 10 towards the ceiling and poised his raging god hard on at the center of Lucille’s G spot. Then the move. A one and a half triple ollie over the vulva godlever with a quadruple insertion propelled thumper followed by a triplespin. And he stuck the landing! Man oh man did he stick the landing as everyone in garden earth must have feared the most fierce lightning and thunder storm in its history. Her climaxing wail sent vibrations clear across the planet and the spark from her freshly satiated eyes lit up the darkest crevices of the thickest jungles. Tsunamis tsunamied, hurricanes hurricaned, and it shook the cones from all the conifers in the world. If there had been life on Mars it would have stood up and applauded. Lucile had come and an left no doubt about it! After several minutes of satiated heavy breathing which caused gale force winds on earth she began her attempt to repay the salacious favor. She reached between his legs, directed the throbbing divining rod between her pulsating thighs and drew him back inside for the ride of his life. The two went at it for nearly two earth days straight exchanging climax with climax in a feat unequaled by any other. They were the Pyramus and Thisbe of District 7 and one of the few pairings of god and goddess that were able to satisfy each other so completely. They lay wrapped in each others arms long after their sexual urges had been completely eliminated. Exhausted both it was Cosmo that finally found enough strength to talk. “Sweet Amphion you were as incredible as ever sweet Lucy. I can’t remember a time I have ever felt so fucking good.” Lucile smiled a freshly fornicated smile. “You tease Como, but I like it. And you have come up with some new moves I see. You should have that thing copyrighted! I can’t say I ever experienced anything quite like it.” Cosmo blushed as he had indeed learned a few new “tricks”. He too however was satisfied beyond his expectation and could do little more than smile. The two lay in bed and drifted off to sleep after checking that the Sauron gas was working.
Cosmo was thrown off the bed and ripped from the hugging arms of deep sleep by a strange noise. A loud rapping of millions of clacking surfaces like a ton of marbles ha been thrown in the room. Clickety clack, clackety click louder an louder. Cosmo leapt to his feet with a confused “What the Fuck!” He peered out through the window and saw that his garden was literally under attack by a giant all encompassing hail storm. He jumped into action and was able to stop the storm immediately but much damage had already occurred. Many of his creatures, youmans included had been killed and a lot of crops had been decimated. The damage was everywhere. “Athos Damn it to eternal nebula!” Lucy was up and wide awake as well and surveyed the situation. “Holy fuck Cosmo, this is really messed up. Someone is really screwing with your garden and shows nary a sign of stopping. You’ve gotta get to the bottom of this and put this shit to an end.” Cosmo was near tears and in a barely audible voice aid, “Yea, no shit. This is totally fucked up Lucy.” Hailstones the size of not yet invented volleyballs were pounding the earth. The Ice Age had begun while the couple slept in post coital bliss! On the plus side it killed all the pests.

Searchin For Siddhartha

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The stress was near unbearable. Like the whole world was ganging up and throwing Bibles at me. “Have you heard the word of the Lord?” well if its just one word than probably, I’ve heard lots of words. “Have you found Jesus?” Jesus? Fuck man I still can’t find Waldo! “God see’s everything, he is always around.” And so are stalkers. Come on everybody stop trying to hide death and destruction behind worn out clichés. Shit happens, I’ll be okay. But their not through, not by a fucking long shot. “God has his reasons” “Put your faith in God” “God has a higher plan”, “God moves in mysterious ways” (I think U2 wrote a song about this one). In Go we trust. Wait, strike that one. Here’s the #1 cliché I heard “She’s one of Gods angels now.” How many angels does an all powerful, all seeing, allmighty stalker need? Please, let me search for my own sanity. Then a book fell from heaven! Okay, it fell from under my coat as I was attempting to shoplift it, but regardless, it fell and the title caught my eye. Siddhartha!
That was way back in 19 yada yada when I was only 14 year old. I lost my Grandma who was my best friend and the only adult in the world who got me. Everyone knew how much she meant to me and they all tried to pacify the tragic event by using religion. But I had already regurgitated all religious ideals and tenets by then. I didn’t want to hear about God, Jesus ,Jehovah, or even Zeus at that time. But this book by Herman Hesse unfolded for me and became a life changer. Ever since I read it I have been on a search for Siddhartha.
Where has that search led me? Actually it led me to myself. That’s where I found what I was missing. I studied with the born again Christians, who back then were actually called “Jesus Freaks” What can I say, after the older generation started calling us freaks we collectively decided to let our freak flags fly. Everythiong was a freak. Hippie freaks, weed freaks, acid freaks, juice freaks, pillheads. Pillhead? Wait, okay not EVERYTHING was a freak. Anyway, a friend of mine was a Jehova’s Witness and his Mom taught bible class on Wednesays. After my buds Dad and older brother died in a car accient a bunch of us went to those classes to keep an eye on her for our friend. So I had learned about all kinds of christian practices. A new Bible called “Good news For Modern Man” was all the rage. What struck me was the term modern. If it really was modern it would be for all people kind, not just man. So in the long run it was just a bullshit approach at involving us in religion
Next I started to read about Budhism because of that book. I really dug the philosophies, but the whole become a monk and burn candle thing was a bit much for me. Besides, I wanted a religion with flexibility, and while it seemed loose on the outside it was centered around four Noble Truths. I don’t want truth, I can’t handle the truth. All I want is freedom of my spirit. But I will keep some of the Buddhist ideals with me, the ones that I felt in my heart. That’s when I learned about existentialism. I was already an Atheist by definition, and as much as I loved the teachings of the Illustrious Buddha I wasn’t ready to conform to the structures someone else’s religion. With existentialism I don’t have to. Through that I learned that all religion is in our own hearts. And my heart is flexible. These days not much on my body is flexible so I dig that! I don’t have to go anywhere special on Saturday or Sunday, I don’t have to pray, confess, or sing songs that aren’t rock songs, (BTW, if there is an all powerful one I’d expect t Christian rock bands to sound a lot better), I don’t have to listen to some dude tell me about how I should live my life, or read me poems about God, no collections, wafers, or wine. Well if it was a nice Cabernet maybe I’d go, but please! All I need to do for my religion is to meditate to clear my head, and to be true to myself.
Now if people ask me am I religious, I say in that I am a creature of habit and do many things religiously, yes, but as far as god, no . I am however, extremely spiritual. That normally confounds them. “If you don’t believe how can you be spiritual?” I have beliefs. I don’t feel a need to worship anyone or anything to attain acceptance. I am part of an amazing universe and I appreciate it every chance I get. Am part of an amazing, if sometimes ignorant species which I also appreciate. I get to love, enjoy music, so all kinds of amazing things and don’t have to answer to the big guy. I don’t need anyone to tell me how to do the right thing, I just do it. I try to never fuck anyone over, and most importantly, I make it a point to never, under any circumstances, judge another person. That’s religions job.
Express yourself, free your mind, live your life…..PEACE

Busted, Disgusted, and Can’t Be Trusted (the consequence)

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Be wise and don’t wise of to a southern cop. Especially if he’s your jailor

The Brutal Truth
This was no Sunday stroll these two backwoods hooligans planned to take me on. As I was escorted down one corridor I noticed a cigarette machine with a paperback book on top. Thinking I may need some reading material over the next who knows how many days, I grabbed the book as we went passed without the goon squad seeing it. We made many turns and I was confused about where I was until we stopped at a door that said “Interrogation Room” If I was confused before, I was completely perplexed now. Not sure what interrogating planned but I h they had a nervous feeling about their interpretation of the word interrogate. As it turned out, having nothing to interrogate was the plan. Jimbo opened the door and led me inside. It was a relatively empty room. Four chairs, three on one side of a small wood table, and one lonely chair on the other. It was apparent which one was mine and Jimbo led me right over to it and signaled for me to sit down. Nervously, I sat. It was Billy who spoke as Jimbo moved the other chairs and the table to the corner. “Boy, we need to git an unnerstandin’ tween us here. Firstly, I done never wanna here ya call any of us law officers turn-key again. That get through all that hair into yer brain boy?” With serious alarm I shook my head yes. I was in a very precarious position and was quickly weighing my best options. He stared at me with razor eyes and said “I caint hear you boy, I asked if yew understood!” I sheepishly let out a soft ”yessir.” I was taken aback at how wimpy it sounded. Even the echoing on the near empty room was scoffing at me. Jimbo lifted his right foot up in the air and brought it down hard. He kicked me with his “County issue” stiff leather boot. He had reached up higher than I would have thought he could manage with his roly poly body and landed the heel of that boot directly in the muscle portion of my left bicep. Both me and the chair were caught off guard (pun intended) and went sailing across the floor in search of the wall. My head hit something hard, and I knew I had found the target. A flash of pain and a second of darkness warned me a major headache would accompany me later. Jimbo walked over to my shaking body and got about an inch away from my ear. “He asked you if you got that boy? You lose yer tongue or sumpin?” He didn’t need to scream so loud, what with me being a half inch away and all, but he did feel a need to cover my ear in spit as he yelled. Now I was at a horrible disadvantage and needed to react quick to win these guys over and get out of here. I looked him in the eye and said clearly “Yes sir, I got it. I will not call you turn-key ever again.” It took about all the strength I could muster to say it. Billy was picking me up and Jimbo assisted the chair. “Now that’s much better boy” Billy was now speaking with an air of superiority that he enjoyed immensely. “Sit back down now boy, we don’t want you falling off your chair agin y‘all might hurt yerseff” Big bad Jimbo leaned down to my dry ear and began to talk in a half whisper. “Let me tell ya how this is gonna go here yankee boy. We dun like no strangers comin roun here causin no trouble. We don like you, but y’all gonna be here a while so you need to git the rules straight. Theys pretty simple. Rule one, we are always in charge and you nevah nevah talk back to any one of us.” I was nodding my head in agreement, but before I could get a word out, Billy Boy had whacked my left calf with his baton so hard I felt fire surging up my leg and go numb in seconds. First pins and needles then my calf was throbbing. Jimbo looked over on the floor saw the book that took flight when me and the chair went airborne. With a mocking disgusted look he picked it up. “Boy, now what the Hell is this? Lookie here Billy, hippie boy done stole someone’s book.” He shook his head like the condescending asshole he was, “ Now see , hairbag, this is just the kind of thing we wants to avoid. Where’n the hell y’all get this?” I gently shook my head trying to think of an answer that would appease him, but to no avail. “Nevernin boy, it ain’t matter no how.” He placed the book up to my temple, pulled back his baton to hit the book so hard my head snapped back. A new pain shot through my head. Throbbing, burning, and pounding like I had never experienced before. The chair and I both tumbled to the ground again. Billy walked over to where I had fallen, and stepped hard on my calf. “Is this the spot where you hurt yaseff boy?” I felt throbbing all over, in my leg, my head, and now in my stomach. When I looked up Jimbo was standing over me with his baton by his side and a sadistic smile on his face. I felt nausea whirling up and feared if I puked it would just piss them off more. It snuck up into my mouth and I clenched it shut and swallowed. It was even worse than the mornings year old oatmeal. I was having trouble breathing which is when I realized I had just been whacked in the stomach with his baton. Now my solar plexus and ribs ha joined in the misery. My head was spinning and my eyes had teared up and I everything looked blurry. Jimbo picked me up and locked my arms behind me. Billy took the book I had found, and placed on my temple again, and whacked the book again. He moved the book to various places on my face and continued the beatings. “See boy, you did us a favor with this here book y’all stole. Ain’t gonna be no marks on yer face, but I bet its gonna hurt for a long time comin’ You ain‘t gonna steal no more books, are ya?.” Jimbo sat me down in the chair, or should I say threw me into the chair where I collapsed in pain and exhaustion. I could hardly breathe, and barely speak. I looked up through the tears in my eyes and watched them parading around with ugly satisfied looks on both of their faces. The beatings continued for what seemed like an hour, but was more likely only five or ten minutes. They applied the book and baton combination to various body parts, mostly concentrating on my face and arms. It was accompanied with their hideous sadistic laughter. They were seriously enjoying it but I was beginning to fade in and out of consciousness and began numbing up. I swallowed another mouthful of vomit for fear of worse beatings. My entire body was throbbing and aching, and Billy got right in my face again. “So I think we have us an unnerstandin’ here, right boy?” He pointed the baton to my face and smacked it with his other hand. The hard wood made a direct hit to my nose and I could immediately feel blood trickling down my face. It took every ounce of strength to just nod yes. Satisfied, Billy stood up and smiled at Jimbo. “I think he unnerstans Jimbo. Maybe we should get this nice young law breaker something to drink, he looks like he has a mighty thirst. Maybe you better fill out a report bout how he got into a fight with another inmate. Use Chester this time” They both laughed. Billy left the room and Jimbo picked up the paperback and handed it to me. “Keep it son, you earned it. Now don’t y’all go nowhere ya hear me?” I looked up at him but everything was still blurry. I knew he was very close because I could smell his stale smoke breath. He grabbed my pony tail and lifted me off the chair, put his forearm to my chest and flung me as hard as he could into the wall. I collapsed and just laid on the floor, not sure if I couldn’t move or just didn’t want to. He threw what I hoped was a clean handkerchief at me and told me to clean myself up. I heard the door close and sensed I was alone. I think I cried as the blood from my nose was thinned out with tears.
After abut a half an hour I scrambled to stand up but fell again. I couldn’t put any pressure on left leg without feeling intense pain. I managed to climb onto the chair and rubbed my leg. My head and face took turns pounding out a tribal beat. I could actually feel the blood coursing through my veins as though my defense system was an ER on full alert. Blood to the injured areas, STAT! Blood rushing to my injure face, my swollen forehead, and my still throbbing leg. I was breathing hard and the dried blood on my nose made it more difficult. My ribs and my stomach hurt. I had been worked over real good, like Cool Hand Luke. Now a puddle of crying beat up excuse of a man was sure his street creds were all but over.
The door opened up and it was Jimbo again. “C’mon boy, it’s time to take you home.” He walked up close and stepped hard on my foot with his fat ass digging in his leather heel. A twist for good measure then a sarcastic smile and wink. Billy walked in with a bottle of water and threw it at me. “See boy, we takes good care of our crimy-nals in these parts. I sure hopes we got us a good unerstanding now.“ They each got on one side of me and basically carried me out of the interrogation room and back down some more corridors until we reached the general population of the jail. I was hobbling along limping and bent over like a captured animal. It was as if they were parading me around all proud of how tough they were to beat up a prisoner and making a statement to the others about who is in charge. They walked me to my cell and tossed me towards my bed. I plopped down on my mattress. They left and I just laid down and started to re-live the beating. Everything hurt. My face felt swollen and my spirit had been broken. I was barely conscience of my surroundings, but I heard noises all around me. After about a half hour, I fell asleep and dreamed. I had one of the most vivid dreams of my life. I dreamed I was going to a big mansion somewhere in the sky, and wondered if I was dying. The song “Spirit in the Sky” played over and over in the dream. I was in and out of lucidity for the rest of the day and night. Tomorrow would be another day

Baby Baby, Where Did Our Love Go?

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This is a very serious and sad excerpt of a story mostly funny. It’s a peek into the dark side of my hero’s sad life
You’re Cheatin’ Heart
Kayla was sound asleep, and on any other night I would have been asleep too, knowing Tina would come home after she was done with her shift. First maybe have a drink or two before coming home. I worked in many a restaurant and a few shots after service was common. But this wasn’t any other night. This was the night I was confronting Tina. I had been relatively certain she had been cheating on me, but now I had some hard to dispute evidence. Her best friend and normal excuse for being late called looking for Tina a few hours ago, and on the counter sat a receipt signed by her from the Miller Edge Motor Inn. I laid in wait in the darkness as my anger percolated. When I heard her car pull up a rush of adrenaline churned in my gut then gathered in my head. I was shaking. This was it!
The second she walked through the door my fears were confirmed. Her face wore an all telling satisfied smile. The kind of smile I remembered seeing so often after our nights at the Jade Feather before we were married. That freshly laid smile. It cut deep into my heart. Here it goes. “So where ya been babe?” Tina was startled, caught off guard not expecting me to be awake. I could feel the nervousness in her lie. “Oh, Joanne and I stopped of for a drink and it turned into 4 or five. We had some late customers and Jo and Jacob are having problems again.” I took a deep breath, anger growing by the second. “That’s really odd because Joanne called about two hours ago to remind you that you promised to cover her shift tomorrow.” The silence sat for an extremely uneasy four seconds as Tina began to attempt a backtrack. “Oh, did I say Joanne, I meant” I cut her off instantly” Stop the bullshit Tina! Stop it right now. You weren’t with Joanne or any other work friend. But I think I can guess where you were. More than likely at the Millers Edge Inn. It seems like that’s where you like to go, at least according to that receipt that was in your coat pocket.” I held the receipt out tyo her in a shakey hand. My body responding involuntarily to the ssour mix of anger, nervousness, and anxiety. She just stared, eyes wider than I thought possible. Busted! She had nowhere to take it. She looked down at the floor. Her face was flushed blueish red from the guilt and the sex drugs and alcohol that were more than likely involved. She raised her head, eyes now pathetic an pooling up with tears. At the same time they were profoundly sad eyes. It must have taken all she had to issue a sad mumble of “I-I’m sorry JT. I’m so so sorry.” A sniffle for an exclamation point.
“You’re sorry? Sorry about what Tina? Sorry that you’ve been fucking somebody behind my back or sorry you got caught?” My face must have been bright crimson red because I could feel rivulets of livid red blood cells swirling around my face. I wasn’t done yet. “ I have been faithful, all the time faithful. We had a fucking pact Tina, we’ve both been fucked over before and swore we would never o that to each other.“ The next question asked itself because I son’t remember thinking it. Who is it? Who are you sleeping with? Someone from the kitchen? A waiter? Who the hell are you fucking?” She paid no attention to the fact that it was more a demand than a question, Through her tears she softly asked, “JT please, does it really matter?” Actually a fair question but for some reason I felt I had to know. “It makes a difference to me, Tina, me your husband. You‘re partner for life!!” Tina looked up at me and streams of tear had begun sliding down her cheeks. “Please JT, don’t make me, it isn’t important. I ssis it and I’m sorry. I don’t know what you want me to say.” Head still burning hot with anger my voice was getting a bit too loud. “I’ll tell you what I want you to say, I want you to say it didn’t happen. But it’s too late for that now isn’t it Tina. So I guess I’ll just have to settle on knowing who it is I can blame for ruining my life.” My sarcastic tone was over the top and I regretted the moment I used it, but fuck man, I was pissed! She looked at me defiantly and just spat out his name. “Johnny” A Louisville Slugger of shock cracked me dead in the temple. Sent resounding waves of disbelief across my skull. My head throbbed with a combination of bewilderment and almost uncontrollable anger. Johnny?! Fucking Johnny boy, the love of her life before we started dating. The very dude I had taken her from, who abused her, calledd her names, and cheated on her right under her nose!. The mother fucker she cried to me about for weeks after they broke up. The piece of shit that treated her like dirt for years. I couldn’t breathe. I was aware of how loud it had gotten and didn‘t want Kayla to wake up. Choked with incredulousness my voice sounded squeezed .“Johnny. You mean Johnny boy the fuckhead that you hate? That fucking Johnny? I can’t believe this! How the fuck did this happen?” Now her tears were in full flight and forcing their way through her finger. Tina was shaking visibly and breathing in uneven pants. “It doesn’t matter.” Fury was at an all time high. “Stop saying it doesn’t matter. It does matter. It really does fucking matter!”
After a deluge of wet sobs Tina attempted to explain herself. “I went out for a drink with the girls after work last week and Johnny was there. He came over and we started talking. Just talking, nothing else. He wanted to tell me how sorry he was and wanted to be friends again, we had a few drinks, one thing led to another and I-I don’t know. It just happened.” I was still in stun mode and the anger needed to escape in the worst way. “It just happened?” I was pissed and I could hear Tina sobbing heavily. “Something like that doesn’t just happen Tina. That’s bullshit. You have to know that something might happen. You say to yourself, this is a bad situation, this is wrong. This asshole fucked me over an now I’m talking to him. I can’t do this cuz I’m married. I’m happily married and….” The Louisville Slugger struck again, this time filled with reality. “Wait! Shit! Oh my godd no!? Oh no no no. Oh shit Tina. You’re not happy are you!? You were hoping. Oh Jeu god you were looking for someone or something that would free you out of ….of life with me. An unhappy like with me! What about Kayla? Are you unhappy about Kayla too?” Now Tina’s face looked distorted. The sockets of her eyes were sunken and wrinkled, deep reddish brown from so much rubbing, Soaked through and through from an all out cry. Every pore of her face looked sad and defeated. He looked old to me for the first time. Oh my fucking god id she hate me that much? I was consumed by a combination of anger, betrayal, guilt, sadness and deep self loathing. My old pal, the demon of self hate. How I hated myself so back a few years. Back when I told Carrie about my theory that everyone that gets to know me either dies or leaves. That’s probably why I got so fucked up all the time, did so many drugs. Fuck man, even I couldn’t stand being near myself. Why should Tina feel any different. The years of confidence building collapsed in a single instant. I was crushed and beginning to understand it was my fault. But Tina was clearly blaming herself too. Neither of us were able to talk. All we could do was shake and cry and sniffle. How did it come to this? I poured myself a huge glass of straight vodka from the freezer. It was half gone in a matter of seconds, and being a half empty type of guy at this moment I filled back up, then emptied it.
We sat in silence for about ten minutes until Tina found the courage to talk. “Now what JT? Where so we go from here?” I thought for a few seconds, said ”I don’t know Tee, I just don’t know.” My voice had taken on an eerie even tone and I almost didn’t recognize it. “I think I need to go home to Centerlawn and think things through. And I think you need to think too. I guess we both need to figure out what we want. But I guess this is over” Surprisingly Solomonic. Tina just stared at me with a profound sorrow in her eyes so deep it made her look totally detached from life. “I am so so sorry JT. Its all my fault. I don’t even no where to begin.” I put my finger up to her lips, “Shh, there plenty of blame to go around. I’ve been so consumed with work and, fuck man I don’t know what. I-I just never saw this coming. We both fucked up. Maybe we should never have been, I don’t kmow. Like I said, I need to think shit through. I gotta split. I’m going home to my Moms, I need to think. I’ll be back to see Kayla after work tomorrow.” I pounded down another glass of vodka and took what was left of the bottle. I could hear Tina sobbing loudly in the background as I walked out the door. I took one last look at our home, our once happy home and could see Kayla’s window. Her parents had just become the monsters under her bed. I thought about Kayla and broke down and cried again. Not a soft cry, not even a cry like I had when my brother James died. This was a deep guttural cry with an ugly darkness. I have lost Tina, I lost my dignity, and worst of all I lost Kayla. All in the blink of an eye. I blew Kayla’s window a kiss through my tears, wiped off my soaked cheeks and took a seep breath. I got in my car and left. I wondered if I was ever coming back.

Arose….. by any other name

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The third day he rose from the dead and the world had a new category to lump people into. Christians. Oh vey, it wasn’t enough to have Jews Hindis, Buddhists, Taoists, Pagans, Friend, Romans, and Countrymen. Religion is like Jell-O, there’s always room for more. And damn man, did they ever torture that dude. The stuck a sticker bush full of pricks (not to mention the pricks that whipped him first) on his head, handed him the 200 pound lumber they would nail him to and said “carry THIS J-Man!” So he had to carry his death instrument down the street while people yelled hit at him like, Go back to Nazareth carpenter boy, and Who da king now bitches” No doubt some real asshole prolly yelled “Bring your own nails woodworker!” Treated the dude like total shit, then nailed him angled at southern exposure so the sun would burn slower. Rude Roman sadists! Anyway, they took hiss dead carcass an stuck it in a cave. Three days later, GONE! Did Mary sneak the body out? One of the dirty dozed? Coulda been a grave robber. Or……or he really did rise from the dead. Either way, Christianity was born.
What is with people and their damn categories anyway? Just yesterday a friend of mine said to me, “Oh, you’re an existentialist? Does that mean you’re an Atheist?” Just the question itself made me chuckle. As usual I attempted to explain.” Well Existentialism is a philosophy that excludes the necessity of God from my life. What I mean is whether he or she does or doesn’t exist has no effect on my life so I don’t give it much thought. For my part though, I don’t believe in God the way in which you do, so I guess by your definition I would be an Atheist.“ His next question magically transformed my chuckle into a laugh, “So then, that means you’re not a practicing Atheist, right?” WTF??? How exactly does one practice to not believe in something. Did I become a practicing Anti-Santatite when I stopped believing in Santa Claus? Athletes practice. Musicians practice. Lawyers and doctors practice. (I know right? I don’t want a doctor that still has to practice either, but just go with it) Atheist pretty much have it mastered by the time they say no I don’t believe in God. No practice necessary. I don’t need to attend service and sing songs about not praising anyone, I don’t need to go through any ritualistic behavior like snake handling, or ganja smoking like Rastafarians. I admit the ganja ritual sounds cool, but I don’t need to practice that either. I had that all figured out in the early 70’s. I once practiced playing the piano until I figured out how badly I suck at it. Then I stopped practicing. So I guess I’m still a pianist, just not a practicing one.
I get it, certain categories give you an insight into the person. But it can be misleading. I have been called a hippie. Originally meant to lump me into a group. Long dirty hair, smelly and unbathed body, pot smoking environmentally aware peace lover , communist, socialist, and so on. You dig it, I know you have been lumped into some sort of category. There are o friggen many of them. Its kinda like the zodiac. Every person will find some character traits in their prospective sign. Why? Cause they make generalizations. That’s what categorizing does, it sticks you in box of generalizations. Many people place others in boxes in a lame attempt to make themselves somehow superior. A good example in America is the “Gay marriage” debate. And here’s some of those Christians again, shouting how god called homosexuality an aberration. They call themselves Christians so they can feel like the superior religion, the one making decisions for everything. Turn your cheeks guys, its not gay marriage its marriage. Its about love not sex. I don’t have gay friends, I have friends who happen to be gay. I don’t introduce anyone as my hetero sexual friend so why should I introduce anyone as my gay friend?
Point is too many of us pre-judge based on beliefs or looks. Okay I confess, every date I have ever been on (while fully conscious) was at first based on attraction. Something about the person attracted me, either esthetically or sexually. I chose to pursue them based on looks. But any long term relation hip was based on mutual interest’s and content of integrity as it pertained to how they viewed me. It’s hard sometimes, some of our pre-conceptions are so deeply ingrained in us its almost impossible to disregard them. They have been hammered into our minds since birth. Boys don’t cry or play with dolls. Fat kids are just pigs that eat too much. Girls should look for husbands when they grow up, and learn how to take care of the home. We are put on overload of generalizations and prejudices from our parents and other authority figures. Hopefully we become intelligent enough to regurgitate the really mean and hurtful ones and not pass them on to our kids. Not easy. I grew my Moms finger pointer and I raised my voice like my Dad more often than I would have hoped, but I gave my best attempt to instill a sense of individuality and integrity in my kids. It wasn’t easy when my son stood up to me after heated disagreements, but didn’t harbor anger. I turned away and smiled and thought, “My boy is growing up.”
If anything, make a consorted effort to not judge. It may not be easy, but this world is getting crazy. Over-crowed, high tech, fast paced and more dangerous every day. Every hour. Give the next generation a fighting chance by teaching with patience and tolerence. Let them grow. If we can’t figure out a way to appreciate each other free of preconceived notions our warring angry attitudes will end our reign as the most intelligent species on earth.………Peace

Busted, Disgusted, and Can’t Be Trusted

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“Shit Out Of Luck, South Carolina, 1979”
I couldn’t waste time worrying about tomorrow, I had to deal with right now. I was being taken to my room for the night and it wasn’t going to be pleasant. First came the strip search, which the guards seemed to take a special perverted delight in making rude comments about my naked body. Maybe they were playing some sort of cop intimidation game, or perhaps they really did dig it. Whatever, it made me very uncomfortable and I was especially intimidated when a deep voice bellowed, “Okay boy, now bend on over and spread your cheeks”. Reluctantly I complied to a new round of rude crude and lewd remarks which totally emasculated me, whether as a by product or by design. Feeling oddly dirty, even after being hosed down, a young guard handed me a towel and an orange jumpsuit. I could tell he was not a willing participant and thought it might be a good chance to create an ally, but he was unreceptive to my questions, like “where am I going,” or “what’s gonna happen to me.” I was a bit surprised at how meekly I asked this guard, but he just avoided eye contact and paid me no mind. “C’mon, dry off, git dressed and foller me son.” I obliged, still feeling dirty and not very dapper in my oversized orange jumpsuit with large white letters. ACDC. It wasn’t a rock band. It stood for Aikon County Detention Center. So here I was, dressed in the height of convict fashion following a young guard who had just handed me the thinnest mattress in history, as well as an itchy wool blanket all rolled up like a sleeping bag. “This is your bed.” He informed me. I tucked it under my arm and followed as the guard walked down the hall, through a series of bars and gates. I had my bed tucked under my arm, and my tail tucked between my legs.
The last gate we went through opened up into a sort of Cineplex of jail cells, and I could see many prisoners sticking their heads between the bars to try and get a look at the new arrival. I could hear shouts, mostly things like “Here come some fresh meat,” or “check out this long haired girl,” and other such nonsense that added profoundly to my discomfort. A voice somewhere off in the distance let out a very loud directive. “Alla Y’all Shut up!!! Its time for lights out.” The young guard walked me down a hallway of jail cells, and it looked like a dormitory of bars. He stopped about halfway down the hall, turned and unlocked a set of bars. “Go on ahead in boy” . It was a relatively big room with a stainless steel sort of picnic table and chair to the left, and to the right on the wall was two shower heads but no stalls. “All the way to the back on the left” down a short narrow corridor I saw a room on the end with an open door. I went in, and saw a board flush up against the wall, and a stainless steel toilet and sink. I remember thinking to myself “ I’m going to be seeing a lot of stainless steel here in this joint”. The young guard spoke to me for the final time. “Put yer mattress on there, you will git yer breakfast under the door in the morning, and your cell will open up to the common room at 10AM. Lunch is served around 12 noon, and 6 PM its back in to your personal cell. Every Wednesday the canteen cart comes around so you can buy candy and cigarettes if you have any money. Church is on Sunday Morning at 10AM sharp in the chapel. You will get one clean towel every day, and a clean jumpsuit once a week. Enjoy your stay.” The last part was added with a touch of sarcasm, and the rest of the “speech” seemed to be by rote, like he has said it a million times. But why did he give me the rundown on the entire place. After all I was leaving tomorrow. Wasn’t I? I began to worry again. How the fuck did I get myself into this God damn nightmare? I unrolled my makeshift bed, laid down, and stared at the ceiling. Completely exhausted from an extremely trying day, I fell asleep.
The next morning I woke up to a school cafeteria type of tray scratching along the floor. It was being passed through a rectangular cut out at the bottom of a cell door that was my overnight home. I was somewhat disoriented, the entire thing seeming rather surreal, as if it were happening to either someone else or in a dream. But it wasn’t a dream, and it was happening to me. I looked at the tray which consisted of a bowl of what I could only assume was oatmeal, a small dish of fruit cocktail , and some toast that I had no doubt had ceased being anything remotely close to actual toast hours ago. A very grim reminder that this is a real situation here. I had to do something, had to act and get myself back in control. Was Max coming back? Did Sandy just order him to move on without me? Or more likely, was Max and Sandy both beginning to feel the pains and discomforts of drug withdrawal? That was the most worrisome and most likely of outcomes. They either found some drugs out on the streets of Aikon County South Carolina, or they forged on ahead to the next methadone clinic on their route and turned me into a distant memory. I now knew that I had to take matters into my own hands. I was alone now, too embarrassed or too proud to call my family for help. Again! Too stubborn to just give in call someone, anyone for help. Not only that, I was aware that I had only one phone call, and I needed to make it count. Phone call! That’s it! I get one phone call. Shit man, I better makes this call count. Who to call though, that was the problem. I remembered a girlfriend I had while I was living in Myrtle Beach a few years ago. Rebecca. I could call Rebecca. Surely she would remember her Yankee lover and be willing to help me out. Why she even had a brother who was working a chain gang, so surely she would be sympathetic. So that’s it. I will call Rebecca, and she will rescue me from this hick hell hole. Now I just need to get to a phone. My mind was working overtime devising a plan to escape this nightmare. I was already thinking what I should do, track down Max and Sandy and kick their asses, or head back to New York and regroup. But first things first. I need to make the call.
I managed to eat about three quarters of the hideous representation of oatmeal and all of the fruit cocktail. I opted out of the born again toast. I now had some nourishment in my stomach, and it was time to get the ball rolling here. I had heard some of the other “Inn” mates call the guards by the term “turnkey” So it was time to establish my dominance with my jailors while developing my “street credentials” with my new roomies. I determined that a perfect place to start was right this very moment by showing these local yokel criminals how we do it up north. So in my toughest NYC voice I let out an authoritative directive. “Ay Oh, Turn-key”. I need to make a phone call.” I had attempted to inject just the perfect modicum of distain and rebellion as was necessary to achieve my goal. An awkward silence befell the cellblock, as a burly mean looking police officer began to stare at me with such a deadpan sarcastic glare, I almost felt jealous. I’m from New York, where sarcasm is a second language and he had just read me a cynical short story without even uttering a single word. I began to wonder if I was taking the proper approach, or if I should rethink my options. It was then that this komodo dragon in uniform began to saunter in my direction with a slow and deliberate pace that screamed “What we have here is a failure to communicate.” The oily haired officer got his face as close to mine as humanly possible, and just stared at me a moment. I had a sudden and humbling memory penetrate my tough NYC exterior and turn me into shimmering mass of spineless amoeba. . “Suey, let me hear you scream suey!” I attempted to coax myself back from my baseless paranoia. Oh Hell, stop thinking like that and get your shit together tough guy. You faced bigger opponents in Spanish Harlem just three days ago. You have spent countless hours in a Pagan Motorcycles Club bar. You have faced off with New York City detectives. (not very successful with the detectives, but stood up none the less. Well maybe stood up was not the right term) I gave my head a hair clearing shake, swallowed hard and began to feel like I was back in charge again. Apparently, none of this mattered to sergeant Komodo dragon. He began to speak, and I swore the voice was the same voice I recalled from that scene in the movie. “Say what boy?…. Did I hear you say turn-key you long haired piece of shit?” I couldn’t help but detect a certain note of arrogance and alarming distain in his voice. But alas it was too late, the drama had begun. I sensed that any second now, the proverbial pig shit was headed directly in the vortex of the rotary oscillator. And the fan was humming! The two of us stared each other down for a minute and the silence began to burn loud in my ears. Then as if right on cue a big shit eating “who the fuck do you think your dealing with” kind of grin broke out on his upper lip and quickly spread across his jaw until it took over his entire face. Now I am staring directly into this shit eating Cheshire smile and I can sense that it is a smile with some very serious implications. I had to think quick to get out of this predicament, to ease the tensions with my captor, while not losing face with my new room mates. “Hey Billy, we got us a real rebel Yankee here what wants to make his phone call.” The silence continued in the most uneasy pause I had ever experienced. After being stared at by a smile for what seemed like ten minutes, an even bigger almost obese guard came walking over with a look so serious I damn near wet myself. His stare was deadly. When he finally spoke, his voice did not match his body or his demeanor. He had a high pitched almost feminine voice. “Well Gawd Dang Jimbo, by all means lets give this boy his call, just as soon as we git his Yankee ass back from the room.” The two of these grease ball cops smiled at some kind of sick inside joke, and Jimbo opened my cell. “Put yaw hans behine you boy, youse comin’ wit us fer a spell.” His Cheshire shit eating grin was in overdrive now and it made me somewhat uncomfortable. They cuffed my hands behind my back and walked me out of the cell, down the corridor and through a few hallways until we stopped at a big wooden door that said Interrogation Room, ACDC. I thought to myself, so this is where they must be where Boss Hog and John Boy are taking me. Jesus when will this fucking nightmare end?

Cupcake Tops With Peeps?? Off With Their Heads

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Watch Me Pull An Easter Bunny Out Of My Hat

Another holiday another challenge. It doesn’t matter your culture, your religion, or your nationality, if it’s a holiday and your in the food business in any form, you need to know all about it. That’s how an existentialist baker ends up being challenged with tapping into the cultural aspects of holidays like the one facing me now, Easter. Yea, yea, yea, I get it. Palm Sunday Jesus came to town on his ass (I have to admit hearing this as a kid made me chuckle). Him and a dozen compadres ate together for the last time and it was a feast fit for a vampire. All body and blood. One of the twelve dudes dropped a dime on the J man and Roman guards whipped him and then crucified him. A few days later his ghost rose from the dead and they proclaimed it a holiday. Celebrating his death seems counter-intuitive but religious obsevervances have always befuddle me a bit.
No matter, I’m not making a cupcake that rises from the dead nor am I making one out of wafers or wine. I am tapping in to the cultural aspects of Eater. The happy stuff, like the candy part. So what do I have to work with? Chocolate bunnies are too old school and besides, they already have a stronghold just being themselves. Jelly bean are a must, I can do something with those classic favorites. What else? Peeps! Now there a tradition worth raising some insulin levels over. A marshmallowy ball of cooked sugar coated in……more sugar of course. Only colored sugar.
Not just yellow anymore, these stretchy marshmallow treats shaped like little chicks come in array of color these days. Pink, Green, Blue, purple, and the old standby, yellow. And not just little chicks, these Easter basket must haves can be either a chick or a bunny. Gender appropriate candy, amazing how much we have evolved. Evolutionary advances aside, I plan to stick to the original. Well original shape anyway. So I’m set. I will use jelly beans for one and Peeps for the other.
Just making a jellybean cupcake or a marshmallow cupcake is not much of a challenge for The Existential Baker. I need to dig deep own into my creative culinary depths and so something different. So not cupcakes for this holiday, but Cake Sliders. Or maybe I’ll call them stuffed cupcake tops!? Elaine made it work with muffins on Seinfeld so WTH?
The first one will be Stuffed Jellybean Cupcake Tops. Now I am somewhat of a jellybean aficionado. Gourmet, No name, spiced, Jelly Belly, all brands, all types. I’ve tried them all. (with the exception of the jelly bean featured in Harry Potter. However, if they were available to me…..) But The Existential Baker can’t just make what he like best, I need to make what works the best for my cupcakateers. After careful sampling of a number of easily available jellybeans it hit me like a sugar rush. A stomach ache. After a few Zantacs and some Pepto, I went back to my notes and discovered that the winning bean contestant was the “LifeSaver” brand jellybeans. Why them? None of them singularly overpowers the others, the coloring and size is perfect, and the flavors blend effortlessly. Since there are apparently no beans left from the testing I went out and got ssome more.
My first attempt was a bit of a disaster. I placed some vanilla cake batter in the whoopee pans, topped them each in an artistically arranged collage of jellybeans and popped them in the oven. Cooking time is about 12 minutes so I checked them after about six. To my dismay the designs had sunk to the bottom and seemingly disappeared. No worries, I’ll flip them over when they finish and cool. Uh uh..No, no, no! Thee delectable cute innocent jellybeans refused to let go of pan. The cake part had no such attachment and instead of having my base I had to carefully clean the mess and start again.
Once bitten twice shy I settle on the same theme with a new approach. This time I filled the pans with vanilla cake batter and right into the oven. After six minutes I removed the pans, sprinkled them with jellybeans in a totally random pattern and back into the oven. It had to be done quickly and efficiently, and I felt like the Jason Bourne of cupcakery. Identity, Supremacy, and Ultimatum. The most perfect looking cupcake tops ever. Randomly arranged and barely beginning to show signs of melting they were a masterpiece. Now to cool and fill.
A variety of flavors began dancing in my mind. What best to fill these beauties? I settled on a strawberry custard and chopped up the remaining jellybeans and folded then inside. The result was a pleasing pastel pink custard dotted with an assortment of tiny bright-colored jellybean segments. I placed a scoop of the delish filling on top of half my cupcake tops, reserving the prettiest ones for the toppers. Another success for the EB’s guests at Jarets Stuffed Cupcakes this weekend. But I’m not done there, I need to do something with the Peeps.
“Peeps for my Peeps” cake sliders take center stage to the cupcake tops understudies. This time I used a heart shaped pan, because I love my peeps. Not the candy, my peeps. Yea, I have peeps! A few anyway. But I digest, lets move on. This was a bit more of a challenge for a few reasons. First those cute little chickies are hard to cut up, and if you put them in a bowl together they begin to re-knit into a glob of marshmallow madness. The other challenge was the presentation. What I wanted to do was top each heart shape slider with a head of the Peep. Just the head, the whole Peep would look messy. But will the EB look like a murdering marauder who hangs the heads of his prey like a trophy on the wall? A game hunter proudly displaying his kill for all to see atop a cake slider? Will it cause lasting scars on the hearts of my little peeps? Will my peeps children forever view me as the villain that slew packets upon packets of sugary chicks removing their heads? Profound quandary. I mean after all I am a lifelong pacifist. I admit to killing more than one lobster during my days of restaurant life. That lobster scream still ways on my conscience. But these Peeps are not and never have been alive. So I can move forward with eight inch chef knife in hand and remove the heads of my peeps. The candy, not the people.
There it is. Heart shaped chocolate and vanilla sliders waiting patiently to morph into a treat. I had reluctantly beheaded all the colored Peeps and set them aside. What to do with the bodies? Wrap them up in blankets and toss them in the sink? No, no way. I want the short temporary lives of those seasonal marshmallow favorites to mean something. So I cut them into pieces. This created another problem. As I mentioned they have an uncanny ability to reform into larger pieces of themselves in various shapes. My solution was to cut and mix in small batches using some marshmallow fluff to keep them bound . Success! Next I took said mixture of mallows and folded them into some vanilla mousses. The result was a bowl of marshmallow mouse dotted with pastel pieces of Peeps. A scoop on a heart shaped cake, topped with another heart happed cake, then adorned with a small dollop of buttercream. Then the prized peep head went on top. Cute, but I feel like they are all looking at me now. Menacingly!! How I suffer for my art!!
Happy whatever you celebrate. If you don’t celebrate any specific occasion, then Happy Life.. What better to celebrate than that???….Peace

Unholy Thursday (the last straw)

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Man, that dinner was to die for!
Now neither Cosmo nor Jesus had any clue what was going on and they just kept on trying to save the garden. Cosmo created more miracles to enhance Jesus’ image and Jesus kept teaching and preaching all over trying to get the youmans back to global synergetic activity. He was gaining ground but his message was being misinterpreted. He became very frustrated and began referring to Cosmo as God just like the people did, and he even went as far as to use it as a threat. “You need to seek Gods forgiveness for your sins or he will bring great misfortune upon you.” It seemed to work so much better than plain old reasoning. People trembled at his feet, washed his feet, kissed his feet (Which really pissed Mary the jealous off). They were worshipping not only this God, but Jesus as well. The ego stroked so often becomes inflated to a huge hard self centered chaotic balloon. . (much like the body part that had caused so much of the situations herein). What I’m saying here is went to Jesus’ heads. Both of them! He began to believe he could control these mere mortals. He was healing crippled people, lepers, and handing out forgiveness as if he himself were a full fledged god. On one very memorable occasion he came into a temple while traveling through Jerusalem and did not like what he saw. Old people playing bingo for money, a flea market of rip off sellers, sex being sold openly, and no one seemed to care he was there. He went up to a money monger who was conning people with a game of three card Monty and tossed the cardboard box with the cards and cash all over the floor. Everyone stopped and stared mouths agape as Jesus yelled, “Get out all of you! Get out! This is supposed to be a place of worship but you have made it a den of thieves. Get out!” Everyone left uncomfortably thinking that Jesus had just had a breakdown, and Caiaphas saw this a the perfect chance. He got Annas and told him to set the plan in motion. The end of Jesus was in sight and Cosmo was at the District visiting Mary Anne and was unable to step in and help.
It’s well documented how Judas betrayed Jesus just before their big dinner but there are a few undocumented occurrences that were left out. First of all it wasn’t supposed to be the last supper, it was an awards dinner where Jesus was gonna give props to his twelve disciples. Before dinner Judas came up to Jesus really high on opium and tried to lay a sloppy French tongue sporting kiss on Jesus while at the same time reaching down and massaging his rod and staff. Concerned when his man meat began to respond eagerly he through Judas away. “Judas stop this sinning. I don’t want you to do that.” Judas was now spurned and yelled “Cut out the dramatics you know very well you want me to do it. Fucking A, now I’m glad I told that fucking Lucifer where you would be!” Silence spoke volumes. Judas had thrown Jesus under the bus and the shit was about to hit the fan. Tears welled in Jesus’ eyes, “Judas, must you betray me with a kiss?” Judas took his seat and sat in silence, ashamed of what he had done. Jesus took his place at the head of the long table.
“My faithful, this was meant to be an award dinner to show my appreciation for you, but it seems we have a traitor amongst us this eve.” All eyes turned toward the nodding out Judas Iscariot. Jude tried to play it cool, “What? Wait, you all think its me? Fuck each one of you all have skeletons in your closets. Paul, did you tell Jesus about the goosing you gave Mary? Oh yea, that’s right Jeez, Paully boy was hitting on your honey. And the murdering Thomas who has actual skeletons after killing the women who doubted his sexual orientation.. And you Bart, any mention of the crown of thorns you made for Caiaphas? Didn’t think so.” Jesus cut him off loudly. “Enough! That’s enough, its over. Okay, here’s the deal, They are going to crucify me, shortly after dinner tonight. Some of the hotels already have ’Jesus Slept Here’ signs in front of their hostels.” Peter spoke up, “No, it can’t be true messiah!” Jesus looked sadly at denying desciple, “Peter, Peter, Peter, you know its going to happen. I know you’ll deny this but I heard you tell Simon it was going down tonight.” Peter objected, “No, its not true.” J man just shook hi head. “I swear, its untrue Jesus, I said nothing!” Jesus turned to Andrew and whispered, “Check this out, he will deny it again. Three time he’ll deny it.” Everyone was looking at Peter except Simon, who was looking up at the ceiling and whistling hoping to be undetected and left out of the conversation. Peter stood, “It’s not true.” Andrew addressed the group,“ ”Holy defecation, its as Jesus predicted, Peter denied it three times.” Sensing the dinner was getting out of control the leader stood up and grabbed a goblet of wine. He held the goblet high, “Drink my faithful, drink your wine as it were my blood.” The men all looked at each other in confusion. Blood? Its fucking wine! But hey, oh, this is Jesus talking so they humored him. All guzzled their wine with abandon muttering things like “Yes, your blood. Uh huh, were drinking your blood JC.” Then Jesus held up a loaf of bread and began ripping parts off and handing it to each man. “Eat this bread as it were my body.” Now the men were thinking that maybe Jesus was tripping or something, but they obliged, each filling their goblets of wine to the top before taking the bread.. The rest of the meal was silent, most wondering if Jesus should be committed.
By the time they were finished, more wine had been consumed than food. One by one the men passed out where they sat. All but one. Jesus wasn’t tripping, he wasn’t even drunk. He was wondering what the fuck happened to Cosmo and why he had left him alone to face this. He looked up towards the eternal clouds and clasped his hands. “Pops, where are you? Do you know what they are doing to me? Okay, I know you did the miracles and shit so I guess you have a plan, I just wish you would share it with me. But its okay, I’ll go. I’ll walk into the belly of the beast an await your advice.“ But alas, Cosmo couldn’t hear his words. Cosmo had been summoned to the Bobaloo Galaxy for a seminar “ Mind Over Anti-Matter” held by the universal science mind of TED. Jesus walked into the Garden of Gethsemane and the rest is history. As for Judas, he went back to Lucifer for something stronger, and Lucifer of course made it way too strong and Judas OD’ed. By the time Cosmo had returned from the Bobaloo his son Jesus was dead on a cross.
Shock filled Cosmo to the brim. Shock and anger. His beloved youmans had not only lost their way, they had killed the only son he and his love Mary Anne had. The worst part was how violently they killed him. Cosmo turned his back on his youmans and headed back to the District to be with Mary Anne and the child who had become Jesus’ body double. There he would remain for eighteen hundred and twenty three years and he returned just in time to see some dude named Louis Pasteur had figured out the world of tiny little organisms he called germs. After checking out his garden Cosmo “thought, holy shit, what the fuck has been going on here?” He needed to review what had been going on in his garden during his absence so he went to the videotape.
Cosmo and Mary Anne watched the various stages of growth the garden had undergone since their son was killed. Some of it was appalling and some of it endearing. Overall Cosmo was filled with more disappointment than he had expected. “Look at all this Mary, all the wars, famines, and diseases on Earth! What the burning underworld could they be fighting over?” Mary was very bright and able to grasp situations well. “Cosmo, these battles they have been waging seem to have two things in common. Arbitrary lines of land ownership and the belief in different gods. They have been killing each other for so long I believe some of them have forgotten why. Look at all these atrocities Babe, wars fought in Rome and France between protestants and Catholics, Sudanese war between Christians and Arabs, The Crusades, The Inquisition, my sweet nebula what have they done to the memory of our son?” Cosmo shook his head, “it’s true my love, they have blighted the memory of our son and used it as an excuse to kill and maim. Its deplorable. And they have undergone deadly plagues, measles, anthrax, rabies, typhus, small pox, and the bubonic plague. The Black Death. The Bubonic plague that spread everywhere and claimed over 75 million lives. How could those micro-organisms possibly get in my garden?” Mary Anne thought carefully before giving her opinion. The persons name she was about to use was a source of some displeasure in her relationship with Cosmo, but he did after all know what kind of work she did before they became an item. Even so, Cosmo was not happy that Mary Anne had some history with Mychrighton. “I’m not sure I should mention this or not babe, but Mychrighton is pretty well known for his experiments in micro-organism in the Andromeda Strain Galaxy.” Too upset to allow jealousy deter his thoughts it was an a-ha moment for Cosmo. “Of course, the pathogen killer, using satellites to destroy his own creations. Saved by the brilliant Lucy when she introduced the Kalocin that became a universal antidote. I have to figure out a way to introduce Kalocin in the garden. Maybe this Pasteur guy can help.” If Cosmo had dropped Lucy’s name on purpose to counter the subconscious feeling of jealousy it worked. Mary Anne’s face reddened ever so slightly and she angrily reminded herself of the once hot and heavy relationship that was all the rage in the District gossip papers. She thought about firing back with another comment about Mychrighton but took the high road because of the important work ahead.