Tag: humor

ONE SHOT….8 Mile (an hour)

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one shot

Look, if you had one shot, one opportunity for a life reboot to seize everything you ever wanted, one moment. Would you capture it, or just let it slip. Yo

His hands are wrinkled, knees arthritic, palms sweaty and paralytic
Moms spaghetti he’ll discard again
There’s vomit on his cardigan, oops he slipped out a fart again, hope it doesn’t spot again
He’s quiet and nervous cause it was during church service
So he pretends it was gods purpose
But he dropped a bomb and he keeps forgettin
He keeps on sweating and just can’t remember
So he wrote it down and the nursing crowd gets so loud
He opens his mouth but nothing comes out
He’s choking, I’m not joking’ better get Heimlich I think he’s croaking
He’s bout to lose himself, the moment got to own it

Okay, no more M&M Bee Rabbit parodying, down to serious business

What if you could go back and change one thing from your past? Would you? And which moment? Of course you could go back to that time you took your first drink, or first joint, or not meet the person who introduced you to drugs but chances are it would only re-occur again at some other point. You could not meet and marry that one person who you regret but it may mean not having had some beautiful children, or maybe you would have been drawn to someone who did you even worse. So when a good friend asked me what I would change if I could go back and change only one thing from my past to make my present life better I had no answer. I told him “I don’t take much stock in that Wonderful Life George Bailey could have made a huge difference bullshit” Then it struck me because one of the words I used in my answer caused me to have a change of heart. The word stock. Like stock in Apple? No, I would’ve made a lot money but that’s not a paradigm shift. Stock up on Karma? Good thought, but no. It was Woodstock. How much would my life have changed if my older brother took me to Woodstock??

If I had an opportunity to go back into my timeline to make one adjustment I would choose to go back to Long Island when I was 14 and my brother was 17 smack him upside the head to tell him take his little brother to that little rock concert in upstate New York. It was almost his duty. Besides, as my big brother he was aware that my birthday was in July and Woodstock would have been the birthday present of the century. Granted at the time it only seemed as though it would be just another outdoor rock concert not the society altering rock statement of all time, but even so he should have taken me. Not that I hold it against that teenage piece of dogshit on my shoe excuse of a brother for not realizing how important it was but it kinda is on a big brothers job description. Like #1 rule, teach your little brother about coolness.

I admit that at the time I was grounded for some lame excuse my parents invented, or maybe I screwed up but that’s not what’s important. This rock concert loomed far more profound than mere parental acquiescence and would have been worth a groundation for the rest of the summer as far as I‘m concerned. At 14 years old I was ready for a Woodstock transformation. I had already made the leap from pop music to rock over a year ago when a friend in my eighth grade shop class lent me this album of his brothers by Iron Butterfly. Adios Monkees and Cowsills, hola psychedelic rock. As if the bands name itself wasn’t cool enough it had one long psychedelic song with swirling organ riffs, a killer drum solo, and some hard as hell guitar playing. Inna Gadda Da Vida! Not just music I was also building up a tolerance to cheap beer (Piels, Shlitz, PBR etc.), I knew how to remove the stems and seeds from reefer (using the album cover of Iron Butterfly) and how to portion off chunks of hash for optimal smoking pleasure. I wasn’t the best joint roller yet but practice will make perfect. I had tried uppers and downers and was primed and ready for some hallucinogens. What better place to have had my first trip than at Woodstock?

Imagine….. I’m looking around at all the weirdo’s and hippies, love children, flower children, and all the colors. So many colors and perspectives. Bending tangerine tree’s and marmalade endless skies. My brains would leave my head for a while and swirl around observing while my smile muscles stretched themselves to their limits and I would laugh for the entire weekend just taking it all in. The music would have infiltrated me ears to fill up my soul. Sometimes the music would make me dance like no one was watching and other times send me into groovy grooving trance. I would have been lifted to a higher plane, a new dimension of sight and sound absorbing all the cosmic energy the hippie counter culture had to offer. Enlightened, I would have found my Zen at age fourteen while enjoying three days of drugs, sex, and rock and roll. (Since it’s me doing the imagining it was a lot of sex. Really really good sex). I would have had a weekend of constant epiphanies, one after the other that would have left me totally altered, a new person. Basically being at Woodstock would have changed my life dramatically

Not that I was totally without rock and roll experiences I had already been to three concerts before Woodstock came around. Three Dog Night (with Stevie Wonder, Bloodrock, and Seals and Crofts), The James Gang, and Grand Funk Railroad, so it was the perfect opportunity for me to learn about outdoor rock concerts, tripping and what the hippies were all about. A bunch of my friends and I talked about going but it was mostly bravado and wishful thinking. At fourteen resources are limited. But at Seventeen my brother was the perfect age for Woodstock. Unfortunately he and his friends were far more interested in scoring with the ladies than scoring concert tickets for themselves and their little brothers. WTF? I mean they let me play football and baseball with them, they let me hang out after the games with them, hang out at the beach, I did all kinds of shit with the older kids. So why the hell did they not all get together and say “yo Jameson, why don’t we get some tickets for this Woodstock thing and take little JT?” But Nooooooooo! They wanted to get laid instead. (which probably didn’t happen that weekend anyway)

So that’s what I would change if I could go back. That would be my one shot. To force my brother to take me to Woodstock. If that had happened I would have had my first real religious out of body experience and would have converted to Hippieism much earlier than I did. Maybe even become a high (very high at times) priest, or Exalted Guru or something. I coulda been a contender. I would more than likely become focused my studies in some form of music or something or maybe seek the path of a journalist to write about important political happenings in the counter culture. Perhaps I would have been a revolutionary or at least a high (yes, very high at times) functioning member of the Peace Corps. Going to Woodstock is the one thing I can think of that would have truly changed my life. If I had that one shot, one moment to seize everything I wanted it wouldn’t have slipped away, it would have been my life changing moment. Being at Woodstock would have reshaped my entire life. Oh well, at least I have a plethora of Grateful Dead concerts on my cosmic resume…. What would you do?
PEACE

What’s Happened To Time? (Inspired by The Wedding Of Riversong)

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time

The clock it never even ticks anymore
Something bad has happened to time
Just what exactly do I mean by that
Does time belong to you or is time mine

Please explain to me in terms more clear
If its gone has someone committed a crime
Cause no one seems to have enough anymore
What in the Hell has happened to time

Killing time had a thrilling time
Time to make a change
On time in time
Times been re-arranged
What if I’m behind time
Where can I find time
Can’t even define time
Time
A time for us
Someday there’ll be a time for us
Our time has come
Time has come today
One time sometime any time will do
Right here right now I think your time is through
Time heals time steals time a for all good men
Make time take time its time to start again
Been here and gone
But time goes on
Time is on my side
Have no time to bide
No time -go time -hurry up its show time
Your time my time I think its about high time
To give the time of day
Time is slipping away
Time has come today
It’s the right time to stitch time and save nine so sublime
Its about time
The right time
Is nighttime
But what is the time?

Does anybody really no what time it is?
Does anybody care?
Time’s up
We out

A Goat By Any Other Name (by Ian Hilltop)

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GD

A Tale by J.T. Hilltop’s Son

Growing up in the 90’s was quite a challenge. I mean the generation before had it so easy, Rock concerts every weekend, smoking weed wherever they wanted, and the only threat they got from their parents was a haircut. I’ve been told by my old man that my Grandpa used to chase him around with scissors. I mean shit dude, I can’t get away with half the shit my Pops did. He told me he used to roll joints during study hall but I can’t even carry rolling papers anywhere near school. Which brings me to my first brush with the law and the night my Dad had to come pick me up at the police station. Funny thing is my old man looks more like a criminal than I do. Oh sure my pink Mohawk looked rad and bad and all but my Dad used to be a biker outlaw. Well maybe not an outlaw biker exactly but he was a hippie tree hugging Harley owner and he still looks the same, just like a fossilized version. He’s still got a ponytail but not much on the top so he covers it with a bandana and he’s an ultra liberal peacenik. My step Mom on the other hand is not quite so liberal. Dad calls her his counter-balance, like he brought them close to the edge and she kept them both from falling over it. So I’m glad the cops called him first and not my step Mom. That night my rebel Dad came to pick me up from the cop station in a beat up VW. I had the distinct feeling he was no stranger to cop stations back in his day.
So what was my big infraction that led to handcuffs and a free ride to the cop station? I was busted for what I mentioned earlier, carrying rolling papers on school grounds. And what is significant about being on school grounds? Why it’s a drug free zone of course. Apparently that makes the crime of possessing paraphernalia for the purpose of having a good time a major offense. Dad came in looking all concerned and worried talking to the cops as if I had broken some felony weed law or something. I was praying it was just one of his little tricks to get us out of there.
Once we were out of the precinct parking lot he asked me in his calm hippie Dad voice what happened. I told him my version of the truth because we have always had a very honest relationship like that. I explained to him how we were smoking a joint before the dance at the High school and the cops came running over. Camron through his bag of weed and Stephanie tossed the joint long before they got there and it pissed them off. Not finding anything they searched us all and I had rolling papers in my pocket so they took me to the precinct for possessing drug paraphernalia on school property. A drug free zone. Straight away he gave me the like it or not its still illegal lecture, and the not ever on or near school property lecture. We drove in silence after the semi-lecture for a minute until he said, “ You mean drug free zone isn’t where you get free drugs?” He scoffed then continued, “Paraphernalia? Rolling papers? Are they fucking kidding?” The two of us laughed and my old man ran off some of his corny old cop jokes, like someone stole the toilet from the cop station and they have nothing to go on, or he points to the back seat and says he picked up a dozen donuts in case I was in serious trouble. He always admitted he felt pot should be legal like alcohol even though he doesn’t smoke it anymore. That is to say he tells me he doesn’t smoke but I have my suspicions, every once in a while I feel like my stash is a few bowls light. Anyway, bottom line my old man wasn’t a big fan of cops busting kids for having fun. I suspected my step mom Jenny felt different.
When we got a block away from home and he said, “I’m gonna have to act all mad at home cuz I gotta at least pretend to be a responsible adult and Jenny will be expecting me to ground you. I’ll need to issue some form of punishment, she’ll think that’s important but I mean fucking A, rolling papers is a fucking crime now? Look Ian, I get that it seems unfair. In fact is unfair, but that’s how the games of the establishment are played little cool man, you don’t try to beat the law, you work around it. You gotta fool them at their own game. Give them enough of what they want and let them think they have the upper hand. If you fight them they just use stronger punishment, that’s their warped mentality, to punish you harshly until you break. So here’s what I’m gonna do. I’m gonna tell Jenny that you just made a small mistake because you were unaware of the consequences of smoking marijuana. You haven’t committed any bad crime and no one got hurt and education will work better than punishment. So you will write me a four page report, two pages on the physiological consequences, and two pages on the consequences marijuana can have on society. That way you will learn the err of your ways!” That man was a fucking genius!
We drove home and I went straight to my room. Dad explained to Jenny what was up and downplayed the incident. She apparently agreed that the report would be the best punishment and so it was set. He used that report when he and I had to go in front of the town board and they were so impressed they dropped the charge and expunged my record completely. Man I really adored that man. He could spin a story like nobody’s business. So I knew that night when he came into my room to talk about the whole situation it was a perfect time to distract him by asking him about his youth. He loves talking about his younger days in the “turbulent sixties.“ One character in particular I had always wanted to know more about was his best friend. I only met him a few times when I was young but Pops tells me he came over all the time when I was a baby. I didn’t remember that and I don’t even know his real name. My big sister and I just called him “Uncle Goatleg”. That alone had to be a good story.
“Hey Pops, you know you’ve always been so honest with me and I know you smoked back in your day, but whenever I think about what it must have been like for you growing up the one name that keeps coming to my mind is Uncle Goatleg. All I remember about him is this really nice guy with long hair and a very long beard who rode a motorcycle and drank a lot of beer. I think I remember you always being happy when he was around and I figure you call him Goatleg because of his limp. I assume it was caused by a motorcycle accident or something cause I vaguely remember your motorcycles and the two of you giving me and Molly rides wearing football helmets. Why was he called Uncle Goat-leg?” I could see a huge smile on my dads face as he reminisced. From what I recall Uncle Goat-leg was as tall as my dad and very muscular. He had very thick curly reddish brown hair that danced down over his shoulders. My dad always had a short beard, but Goat-legs chinstrap was very long. The full rust colored hair sprouted from his chin and went clear down to the middle of his chest. The hair on his face was so thick I can’t say for sure if he even had lips. Santa would have been jealous at how beautiful that beard was. Like I said, he has a bit of a limp, and he walked with the assistance of the coolest walking stick I’d ever seen. A dark red hardwood cane carved with the most magnificent black and yellow cobra snake. The head of the snake lay right at the handle with it’s mouth wide open and fangs showing so he could hold his hand inside the snakes mouth. I recall the detail of the snake as almost mesmerizing, the tiny scales, the flared head and sharp teeth were kind of menacing and I’m sure I stared at it every time he came over. Without really ever knowing Uncle Goat-leg I admired him greatly and wished he had come around more often.
“Holy shit uncle Goat-leg! I’m surprised you remember him. His biker name was Redbeard, his real name was Kevin, and we called him Uncle Goat-leg because of you and Molly. He injured his leg in a motorcycle accident. Yeah, he and I rode together a few years before I had to sell my bike. Kev had a gorgeous tricked out Harley shovelhead. What a beautiful bike. Me and Kevin go all the way back to kindergarten where we got into a fistfight over some toy or something. It was the first fight for both of us and we got sent to the principals office. While waiting, we glared each other down still pissed, and then Kevin says “I hear the principal looks like a grasshopper. A fat bald grasshopper.” I broke out laughing because he really did and we both making cricket noises and acted the fools. All through school we called him ‘Grasshopper’. We became best friends instantly and learned we only lived three blocks away from each other. Stayed best friends until he left. We did everything together rode bicycles, went to the beach, dances, girls, rock concerts, everything. We were together all the time just about all the way through school. We even learned to drive in the same car, your Uncle Jack’s Barracuda. When the time came we went to buy our first motorcycles at the same place.” I wasn’t sure what I wanted to hear more, the story of their friendship or the story of why Uncle Goat-leg left but I opted for the latter. “When did he leave and where did he go? Why did he go? Did he ride away on his bike? Do you know where he is now?” Pops chuckled, “Slow down son, it’s a bit of a story. Let me get us something to drink.” As he got up he smiled and his chuckling voice trailed off, “Always with a million questions Ian.”
When he came back a few minutes later he had a large mug of beer for himself and a soda for me. “Hey, can I have a beer?” I got the you know better than that look as he smiled. “Not this time Ian, but someday soon we’ll share a few. Tonight is all about how Uncle Goat-leg got his name. I perked up instantly. “Who started me or Molly? How old was I? Did he have the cane then?” Dad took a long swig of his beer and shook his head, “One question at a time Bud. He came over one night and you were like two and a half years old. You were full of questions even back then. You asked him over and over what happened to his leg, why does he limp, was it from the motorcycle, non stop questions. Kevin laughed and rolled up his pant leg to show you his disfigured and scarred leg. You said ’Ew gross, it looks like a goats foot.’ We laughed our asses off and then he roared, ‘Yea Ian, Uncle Goat-leg, that’s my name. I’m your Uncle Goat-leg.’ Every time he came over after that we called him Uncle Goatleg. You and your sister are the only two people in the world he’s let call him that.
TBC

Universal Brunch On District Seven

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brunch

Excerpt from Cosmo’s Guide To Cosmic Gardening
By J. T. Hilltop

After a night of love with Mary Anne the god Cosmo, in charge of the Milky Way Galaxy went to district seven to plead his case to re start his Garden Earth after throwing an asteroid at his ill thought out garden of mammoth dinosaurs. He had successfully petitioned to garner seeds with intelligence to repopulate his garden under his newly approved garden renewal program with some creatures that can think.

You say you Want An Evolution, Well you Know…….

When god sized portions of Meade and Weed are consumed even a god will suffer the effects of a hangover. Combine that with mushroom juice and whatever the hell that ‘plus’ shit was, not to mention the pleasure muscle getting an ardent workout the previous evening and it was almost difficult for Cosmo to extricate himself from the restful comfort of sleep. On any other morning he would have taken a long casual departure from his dormancy but on this day he was far too excited. The Board had approved his bid for knowledge tinkering and he had to meet up with Tall God for the obligatory lecture before actually acquiring the necessary seeds. To shake of the effects of his hangover Cosmo poured himself a cup of steaming salicylate tea, a spicy mint flavored tea that helps one focus with an added bonus of dulling head pains. Even the tea however could not erase his odd sense of paranoia. Cosmo pondered that strange feeling he had last night. Like someone else was in the room! He was certain they had engaged in their session of passion exchange alone yet the feeling nagged him that at the end of the evening someone else was in the room with them. The last time he had the odd sensation of such a paranoia was shortly before his dinosaur planet had gone to shit. Maybe a long hot shower will wash the feeling away.
A steaming shower of hot liquid methane always hit the spot. As the silvery methane beat down on his tired body he allowed an involuntary gasp sneak out. He could feel mixture of body fluids that had acquired in various parts of his body scampering down his legs in search of the drain. The gasp accompanied the fluids and Cosmo began to feel the paranoia dissipate. He reflected on his evening of unbridled passionate love making. It was somewhat unusual for a god to giving such thought about a non god but last night was exceptional on every level for Coz. Mary Anne had gone beyond meeting his sexual needs and tapped into a feeling foreign to the gratified god. Cosmo splashed some hot liquid methane on his face and shook it off. “Never get attached,” he mumbled to no one.
Freshly invigorated from the steamy liquid methane shower he applied cesium oxide in his eyes to get the red out, splashed a dab of sephora extract behind his ears smiling because he felt much better. He quickly got dressed and headed of to the Intergalactic Café where he was to meet Tall God. The Intergalactic Café was considered by most to serve the best brunch in this universe. Remarkably high glasslike ceilings look out across the vastness of the universe. The clear material is magnified at various locations to give the skies a textured look which was especially brilliant at night. Its walls were pristine white with nary a smudge anywhere, with oversize hexagonal rotating windows. Various shaped tables scattered about the dining area gave the room a random feel that borders on chaotic. The service is anything but chaotic and is the gold standard of restaurant service. The moment Cosmo walked in he was greeted by an android host. Sleek and shiny features his face was not round or oval like most beings but an almost triangular shape but with much softer edges. It’s body was cylindrical and it hovered ever so slightly off the floor and moved with grace and precision. “Welcome Mr. Cosmo. I am Valarian your host. Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you. Your table is ready. Your guest will arrive shortly as he has jut left the aquarium. Would you care for a Meade-mosa?“ It baffled Cosmo how these androids could know who everyone was, who they were waiting for, and could tell with pinpoint accuracy where they’re guest are at any given time. He answered as he followed the android to a table. ”Yes indeed I would love a Meade-mosa.” Meade-mos is a traditional brunch drink made with honey Meade, citronium nectar, and sparkling Nitrogena (a 180 proof alcohol). Often served with a frozen argon cube it is perhaps the tastiest morning beverage in every universe. Besides, it was also the hair of the canine that gnawed at ones head so a perfect distraction for the effects of a hangover. Cosmo sat down at his table. The table top, in the shape of a rhombus looked like a flowing river yet whatever was put on top of it sat motionless. His chair was actually in a parallel universe so it could not be seen, but it fit to ones body perfectly. To look out across the dining room filled with patrons sitting on nothing but air never ceased to amuse him. After less than 20 seconds a hologram arrived with his Meade-mosa. “Good morning Mr. Cosmo, hope you are enjoying your stay in District seven.” Cosmo loved the efficiency of the hologram service. “Yes thank you, I have been having a wonderful time, but to be honest I can’t wait to get back to my own galaxy.” Holograms rarely engage in small talk and this would be no exception. “I will return with your beverage and a menu. Your guest is arriving in ten seconds.” Poof she was gone. Great Draconius things appear and disappear so rapidly in the District.
Tall God arrived the same time as the Meade-mosa. Good morning Cosmo, I trust you had a nice evening last night?” Tall God had a very maternal look about him. He had a rather thin torso and unusually long legs and arms, but the thing that really made him tall was his oversized oval head. No less than three times the size of a normal head it gave Tall God a good ten inches over what one would normally have. On the top of the long forehead was a mat of shoulder length gold hair that seemed to have little or no sense of direction. The ends were always frayed and they formed little groups that stuck out wherever they could. But it’s his eyes that were the most astounding of his features. He had eyes that reflected millions of years of deep knowledge and wisdom. His eyes had the ability to conjure feelings of both your Mom and your Dad and either put the fear of nucleic acid or the comfort of a mothers breast depending on which you needed at that moment. Everyone joked about how his head was so large because he had the biggest brain in every universe. He was deeply revered and just about everyone hung on his every word so it was a great honor for Cosmo to be given audience. Gods have called him Tall God for so long many had completely forgotten his real name, the illustrious Dr. Emmet Einstein. Cosmo hadn’t forgotten and vowed to find a way to immortalize the brown skinned god on Garden Earth. “Yes Doctor, I had one of the most amusing nights I’ve had in a long time. The sexual God toys you mentioned were even more special then you led me to believe.” Tall God chuckled. It wasn’t often he was called doctor and it obviously made him feel good. “Yes indeed my son. I was at the Jehovah Bar and Grill last night and heard that you had teamed up with your old pal Simon. Were you able to keep up with the lad?” Even Tall God knew of Simons reputation. “Simon had indeed lived up to expectations and then some. As for me sir, I had a most beautiful exclusive.” Tall Gods expression instantly contorted into concern. “Exclusive? Dangerous thing to go exclusive, you should exercise more promiscuous activity. Nothing good can come of all night exclusive. But you’re a big god Cosmo.” His face took a jump back to happy glowing eyes. “Anyway, let us eat. I took the liberty of ordering us some radiated Scree and flash fried Oswaft.” This was local District 7 favorite brunch served with some highly caffeinated Stimlithium. “An astute choice sir, exactly what the mathematician ordered.“ The two indulged hungrily as Cosmo released more detail of his overnight stay.
After another 20 minutes of small talk and breakfast it was time they finally reached the point of the obligatory lecture. Cosmo was one of the many garden gods Tall god was responsible for. It was up to him to warn him of possible mischief both playful and treacherous. “You must be cautious Cosmo with dispensing this intelligence because it does not come without consequence. Some of the other galaxy gods get quite jealous of successful intelligence tampering. As well liked as you are there are still a few who would love to see you fail.” This was hard for Cosmo to believe. “Why would anyone care if I fail or succeed?’ Tall God gave the naïve gardener a well deserved condescending once over. “Cosmo Cosmo Cosmo, you are forever looking at the universe through rose colored vision orbs. There are many out there who will attempt to sabotage your dream garden to further the glory of their own success story. Your failure will lift others to a more profound level of success, to achieve what you could not. Many are already jealous of how colorful your garden has become. You will indeed have more friends than enemies but there are two or three I would keep an eye on. At any rate my friend just beware. Things are not always what they seem.“ This revelation was a shot to Cosmo’s heart. He was aware that he was too easy sometimes but rose colored vision orbs? Just in case he made a note of Tall Gods concerns. “Yes of course your right. I will be overly cautious at who comes to visit.” Again the condescending head shake. “I fear it’s the ones who do not visit you need to watch the most. But that’s enough paranoia. The most important advise I will give you is this. Intelligence comes with consequential side effects and one of the side effects will be this. The species which you endow with brains capable of reasoning will develop unique qualities. They will have a strong sense of self and of worth. They will believe themselves superior to all others and they will attempt to harness all the benefit’s the garden offers for themselves. They will come to believe that the garden was created solely for them and become arrogant and uncaring towards all other species. As well they will find much pleasure in the act of procreation, more than just as a biological tool to propagate and evolve their own species. This may seem to be beneficial to you now as we happily enjoy sex here in our world, but in your garden my friend, it will lead to many other problems Your species will learn from that enjoyment many things such as greed, jealousy, envy, and possessiveness. These attributes can be dangerous. The species will do unimaginable things to satisfy these emotions. If not tended to cautiously it can be very dangerous Cosmo, very dangerous indeed.” TBC

NOT MY BEAR TO CROSS

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bear

Following is part II from the excerpt of Twisted Tale’s of The Bible Easter special. The God Cosmo had found his companion Mary Anne pregnant with the gods son. When the time came for them to send their son down to the global spinning garden of earth they switched out their real son with the “virginal” birth child Cosmo had impregnated into the unsuspecting Mother Mary in a dream. Their child had been trained his entire life to take over as the son of God Cosmo and spread the word…….

Previously in Part I:

Remember that dude Herod, and the salad loving Caesar? They were none to happy. Neither in fact was the hierarchy of the Jewish religion. Seems like Jesus was gonna have some splainin’ to do to the Romans as well as the Jews. Apparently hey don’t like having their authority challenged. Something evil was afoot.

Part II Not My Bear To Cross
Cosmo felt an evil wind blowing across District Seven causing him profound alarm. Immediately he arranged for his boy Jesus to sneak away from his ministries on Garden Earth for a secret meeting and update. First though it was they’re ritual father and son meteor ball catch. After a few lightning quick hardballs both father and son rubbed their sore hands and sat down together. “So Pops, how’s everything with Mom?” Como hugged his son. “She is well J, she enjoyed the wedding reception but that’s not why I’m here son. My god intuition senses are tingling with bad omen tremors. I’m worried something is not right in the garden beds. How are things going on here for you?” Jesus shrugged his shoulders, “Well it’s not easy Pops. I have my disciples and my family behind me, and some other follower but it’s going kinda slow. I pulled off that fake miracle at the wedding rception and that got me a lot of new followers but I still need to do something big. I gotta tell ya Pops, for some reason they call you God, not Cosmo or A god, but God Almighty. They are scared shitless of you.” Cosmos eyes sparkled with a touch of pride but his recent agita was still a concern “Yes, yes, I see how they act, we need to nip that in the bud quick but we have bigger fishermen to fry here my son. Those people will come around, I‘ll give you some undeniable miracles for that. First though I need to warn you to watch your back. There are some evil people looking to take you down so just be careful. Don’t take anyone or anything for granted. I’m a bit suspicious of a few of your disciples there.” Jesus adored his father, “Okay Dad, I promise, I’ll be extra vigilant and I’ll have the guys fully vetted again just to make sure. Now what’s your cool garden plan?” Cosmo was beaming with pride, “Here’s the deal. I’m gonna help you and create some more of them miracle things that work so well. I’ll have you heal a couple of fake lepers, you know change their spots and all, and let’s see….Walk on water, yea that’s it we’ll have you walk on water. That should convince the shit out of any doubtful diner that you’re the real deal three course meal. That will convince just about everyone to believe in you. Then all you need do is get them back on the correct path of life so they can live amongst each other they way I meant for them too. You’ll teach them how to live a good life co-existing with the rest of the living things in our garden. It will once again be one big happy garden party.” Jesus gave it some deep thought. “Easier said than done Dad but you know I’ll do my best. I think I have a few cards left up my sleeve.” Cosmo gave his son a stern glare, “Its not what’s up your sleeve that concerns me, its what’s in your pants. Which brings to mind son, what are your intentions with Miss Magdalene? Have you vetted her fully?” Now it was Jesus turn to glow with pride. “She’s a looker eh Dad? I think I may bring her back to the District some day. I really do like her, I’m not using her and yes I had her checked six ways to Sunday. She worships the ground I walk on. And she also worships my rod and staff.” The glare morphed into a knowing man to man smile. “Just be careful boy, men have been known to do some pretty crazy shit for a woman. Now you better get going. I’ll get started on your miracles right now. Your disciples are all out fishing in the Jordan River and their boat is stuck. When you get down there I will freeze the river just under your steps long enough for you to walk out and pull them to safety. A very crowd has already gathered fearing the worst. After that it’s up to you.” Jesus shook his head in admirable disbelief, “You are the bomb Dad.

An uneasiness was still in the air and for good reason. Unbeknownst to Cosmo and his enthusiastic son there was a new sheriff was in town. It was sheriff Satan Bear and man was he ever mean. Definitely not someone to have on your bad side, double cross, or even single cross. Worst thing about Satan Bear is Jesus was his natural enemy who was raised to kill him. Unfortunately though, he would sonn become a crossed bear. Satan Bear was weaponized because he was the child of Cosmo’s first attempt at immaculate conception with Mother Mary. The first child born to save the world was supposed to be male but unfortunately for her the chromosomes got mixed up. They named her Rosemary after the herb and instead of being the savior she was nothing more than Jesus’ older sister. She couldn’t penetrate the glass ceiling (or penetrate anything else if ya know what I mean), so she was overlooked and forgotten. Rosemary was filled with resentment and dedicated her life to avenging her younger brother for becoming the savior over her because of his gender. She enlisted the help and sperm of a disgruntled ex friend of Cosmo named Lucifer from the galaxy of Dante’s Inferno. Lucifer was half god-half bear and more than happy to service Rosemary sexually and allowing love to grow where Rosemary flows. Together they conceived an ornery son they named Satan Bear based on his bloodline and his looks. He was an ugly red haired ginge of a demi-god with the face of an ogre but the body of a grizzly bear with a personality most fitting. MEAN! Soon a plan would be set in motion that would end in a duel of apocalyptic proportions that would upset Eden’s applecart for an eternity. If anyone could be a threat to the J-meister it was Rosemary’s baby, all growed up.

Jesus went down to The River Jordan and just as Cosmo had promised the disciples were stuck out on the water where a huge crowd had gathered on the riverbank. Judas cried out, “Jesus, help us!” The big JC closed his eyes and started walking. True to his word his father froze the water beneath his feet with each step and gave the appearance of walking on top of the water. He grabbed the line of the boat and to the jaw dropping amazement and cantankerous cheers and applause he guided the boat to shore and saved the group of hapless fishermen. A thunderous display of accolades followed and word spread very quickly. Soon everyone had heard of this dude who claims to be the son of God walking on water, changing water into wine, healing the sick and showing compassion to the poor. With the hand of Cosmo as his guide he roamed the countryside with Mary and his band of merry marauding disciples healing and feeding and making a huge name for themselves. At one point he took one loaf of bread and fed twenty people, but by the time the story got out it had evolved into feeing thousands with only a half a loaf of bread. Jesus was rapidly becoming the most popular man on earth. They headlined Bazaars and Revivals all over the place. People everywhere spoke of his good deeds, his teachings of tolerance, and his ability to convey Gods forgiveness to those in need. But not everyone was happy about all this pomp and circumstance. Satan Bear was angrily awaiting an opportunity to ease his mothers angst, King Herod wanted “That bastards” head on a platter, and the emperor Caesar wanted nothing less than nail this Jesus guy in the act. Something had to be done about this do-gooder who was telling people they need not pay taxes. Caesar summoned one of his high priests and told him something must be one. As it turned out that high priest was none other than the minister of the sinister and friend of Satan Bear, Caiaphas. Cai playfully nicknamed Satan B “The anti-Christ” which he adored. In private meetings of Caesar, Herod, the Jewish high priests, and the leaders of Rome they set about a plan to create a more permanent solution to their problem. Caiaphas spoke to the cabal, “What then to do about Jesus of Nazareth? No riots, no armies, no fighting, no slogans, one thing I’ll say for him Jesus he’s cool. We must deal with him now. Any suggestions?” Annas, the high priest of the newly formed Roman province spoke first, “My dear Caiaphas, I have a bag of silver and you have a friend you call the anti-christ chomping at the bit to get to his uncle. I have a plan to destroy not only Jesuszilla but Godzilla as well, a kind of father and son package deal. That Judas dude is a closet druggie strung out on opium so he is uber vulnerable. Satan Bear will sell him some high grade shit and then raise the price drastically. We can force him to make a deal with the antichrist for a bag of silver and a supply of opium. We can not only get the 411 on what this Jesus fucker is doing, we can have Judas set him up in Gethsemane. After that its up to you guys who disposes of him” Caiaphas smiled one of the biggest shit eating grins any had ever seen and replied, “Annas that is brilliant. Lets go nail his ass to a cross!”
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. Then one day the mad J-man flipped his sandal strap at the Temple when he saw it filled with greedy scamsters and dishonest rip-offs. He had an absolute Temple Tantrum throwing tables and kicking everyone out. Jesus had lost it and the tides were turning against him.
After his hissy fit instead of worshipping him as before people trembled at his feet. They worshiped God and Jesus out if fear. Those flames of fear stoked and inflated his ego to a huge hard self centered Cadbury egg. What I’m saying here is went to Jesus’ heads. Both of them! He began to believe he could control these mere mortals while fornicating his way across the countryside. “Its good to be king, haha.” He was healing crippled people, lepers, and handing out forgiveness as if he himself were a full fledged god. His ego not only discouraged his chosen twelve, but a culture of distrust in Jesus was beginning to form. Sensing this Jesus decided it would be best for everyone if he threw an intimate dinner party to help clear the air.
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 more of an awards dinner where Jesus was gonna give props to his twelve disciples while reinstating their faith in him. Before dinner Judas came up to Jesus really high on opium looking to lock lips in a tongue tango of a kiss on Jesus. Despite the stirring in the aroused J-low’s staff Jesus refuted his moves. “Judas, it’s bad enough you betrayed me but must you do it with a snog toggle?” Iscariot was taken aback by both the thwarting of his advances as well as the fact that this savior here was already aware that he sold him out for more opium. He chose to feign ignorance but the J-ster laid it all out for him. Judas knew he was busted, “Cut out the dramatics you know very well you wanted me to do it. Fucking A, now I’m glad I told Lucifer where you would be! Go now, go on and complete your self fulfilling prophecy.” Silence spoke volumes. Judas had thrown Jesus under the bus and the camel shit was about to hit the caravan fan. Tears welled in Jesus’ eyes as he walked into the Garden of Gethsemane and the rest as they say 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.
While The crossed Satan Bear gleefully watched Jesus was passed back and forth from Pontius Pilate, to Caesar, to King Herod until he finally met his brutal end. Thrice denied by Peter, betrayed by Jesus, no one left by his tomb but his faithful Mary Magdalene. For three days and nights she mourned her lover never leaving the grave sight. On the third day Cosmo returned to The Garden Earth from District Seven with Mary Anne. A whirlwind of emotions. They experienced denial, sorrow, grief, but most of all anger. Anger that not only had youmanity lost its way and completely missed the message of peace but they had so brutally murdered their son. They removed Jesus from his tomb and returned to their own garden to mourn him and release him into the universe completely unaware of the events taking place in their beloved garden. So hurt were they it would be over eighteen hundred youman years before they returned to The Garden Earth. Little did they know when they put in the video tape to see had been going on that they would been in for a shock that would shake their entire galaxy!

The Miracle On Thirty Fourth Steep

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easter I

Following is an excerpt from the Twisted Tale’s Easter special version of the story of creation focusing on Jesus. The God Cosmo had found his companion Mary Anne pregnant with the gods son. When the time came for them to send their son down to the global spinning garden of earth they switched out their real son with the “virginal” birth child Cosmo had impregnated into the unsuspecting Mother Mary in a dream. Their child had been trained his entire life to take over as the son of God Cosmo and spread the word. ……….. The saga continues:

The Miracle On Thirty Fourth Steep

Now it was time for part two, the long awaited Jesus bait and switch. The real Jesus had been trained and taught what to do and now had to set out an find about a dozen disciples to help him get the word of Cosmo out and fulfill his Dad‘s prophecies. Fake Jesus was extremely confused but he took to Mary Anne’s tremendous maternal instincts. Besides that she had lots of computer games left from real Jesus so it made his identity theft a bit easier to swallow. Real Jesus on the other hand really had his work cut out for him. It’s not easy making friends when you’re a long haired unemployed sandal wearing guru who introduces himself as the Messiah. But that’s what Jesus was expected to do, make everyone believe he was put in this garden to save the farm. While strolling around near the sea of Galilee he met two men named Andrew and Peter.
It took a considerable amount of convincing and a round or two of his “Jesus weed” smoke but the two new friends finally came around. Apparently a rumor had been traveling the grapevine about some son of God or something like that so they agreed to follow Jesus to hear and spread his teachings. They had some drinking buddies who worked down on the shore fishing which Jesus thought would be a great place to find new followers. With his fantastic personality and great training from Mary Anne it wasn’t long before he had a handful, twelve to be exact, of happy J-weed toking admirers who were willing to call themselves the disciples. They sat cross legged in a large circle to introduce themselves to the newfound cult. The J-man took center stage “My Name is Jesus, son of the god Cosmo. I was raised by a Jewish carpenter who taught me his trade. It’s a complicated situation I will do my best to explain. Joseph raised me as my Dad but my real father, my biological father that is, is God Cosmo creator of the Garden Earth He sent me to this planet to teach man how to live correctly. Humans have strayed from the path of God Cosmo’s circle of life by creating wars, killing creatures they don’t like, and generally fucking up the entire landscape and acting like the garden belongs to them not to every living creature. So in a way I’m here to save you from yourselves. If you guys follow me, listen and learn from me, then together we can go back to following the natural laws of life and survival. Any questions?” Of course a litany of questions rang out like “Does that mean I don’t have to serve in the military? Can we still have sex? You mean we can’t kill any animals? Etc.” Jesus held up his right hand which would soon become his signature move. “Okay, okay, I get it, you all have a lot of questions. Let me just put it this way. If you follow me and do as I say you will all live happy and lets just call it totally fulfilled lives. Now in the spirit of Disciples Anonymous let’s hear who you are and what your names are because I think we’ll be hanging together for a long time here.

Each man stood to introduce themselves. “My name is Simon, sometimes known as Peter but that’s a long complicated story. Suffice to say it’s sometimes advantageous to have an alias. My brother and I met Jesus up the road there and had a long conversation that makes total sense. I have chosen to become a disciple. I want to follow and see this world get back to where it should be.” Next Andrew stood, “I’m Peters brother Andy, or Andrew if you prefer and I too want to follow.”Some of the guys were either being coy or were properly shy, “I’m James and I‘m ready” ..“ Me too, I’m John” ….“My name is Bartholomew but you can just call me Bartman. I believe in Jesus” …“I am Phillip, you can be my body guard and you can call me Al.” Of course there is always a devils advocate, even within the disciple community, “My name is Thomas and I must admit I am somewhat skeptical but I’m willing to give this guy a shot. But as I said, my name is Tommy, not the see me feel me Tommy but Tommy the suspicious. Scratch that, I’ll stick with Thomas but I have my doubts.” Next a burly bearded Fisherman’s Weekly correspondent stood, “ I be Mathew, or the Matt Man, and unlike the doubting Tommy boy here I trust in Jesus. I plan to one day scribe his biography.” A meek voice came next, “My name is James too, but to avoid confusion just call me Jimbo.” Nearing the end at last, “Ah… my name is like Thaddeus, no jokes please I‘ve been getting shit about my name since kindergarten so please call me Thad.” Only two disciples left, “Well this is awkward, my name is Simon too. I guess I’m gonna ask other Simon if you can stay with Peter to avoid confusion.” And finally the twelfth and last man stood. He was a fisherman but he also had a part time gig as a charriot salesman and was believed to have invented the term Sleazy Sale. “Hey Y’all, I’m Judas. Judas Iscariot and I do believe in Jesus and all his teachings. I will follow him and listen and obey. You are my liege, my lord Jesus, and I will be a faithful servant unto you to the end.” With a sardonic smirk Judas surveyed the group then directly at Jesus……“Trust me.”
So it was set that the J-man had a fresh set of disciples ready to go out and shake up the garden earth. It had been quite stressful on Jesus getting to this point so the J-man decided he was due some relief with ba little R&R. He went to a house of ill repute to choose a prostitute with which to help him relieve his pent up emotions. Her name was Mary (What Another Mary?) Magdalene and she did for Jesus what Jesus’ mother had done for Cosmo. She spent hours very skillfully extracting every ounce of seminal fluid in his body and did things to him he had only had wet dreams about before. She was satisfied beyond her expectations as well, I mean who wouldn’t with Jesus being half god and all, and she had a never ending smile pasted to her cheeks. Mary sensed more than mere sexual satisfaction she felt a deep connection to Jesus who instead of falling asleep afterward began describing his purpose in the garden. Mary noted some remaining stress, “Try not to get worried, try not to turn on to problems that upset you oh. Don’t you know everything’s all right yes everything’s fine, let the world sleep without you tonight.” Maybe it was the sexual explosions or maybe it was her tenderness, but it touched Jesus deeply. Oh, and also she literally touched him deeply again. Jesus feel more calm and relaxed than ever before yet physically aroused. “Mary I haven’t been totally honest with you.” The J-pole sprang up to make an exclamation point, “Not only am I here to save the garden earth, but I am also the son of a god. I have a posse of 12 dudes with me and we are going to change the world. So I was thinking, would you like follow as well?” Stroking this half god’s erection things became clear to her. No wonder she had multiples! Knowing she was in for some more orgasms she smiled even wider until the 12 dudes comment struck her. Worried she was being asked to pull a 12 car train in the caboose she glared at him suspiciously. “Are you saying I should follow you or do you expect me to do what I’m about to do with all 12?” Jesus shook his head an laughed, “No, of course not, its just me and you in that way. By the way, the sex has to be our little secret. On the surface we need to appear righteous and free of sin. In private, well anything goes baby.” Mary smiled. “Okay Jesus, I’ll follow you and be your maiden.” She skillfully guided him into her forest as they entered into hour five of non stop sex. After climaxing for the umpteenth time Mary Magdalene mumbled to herself, “Changing the world huh? Ha, and they said I would never amount to anything. Wish my friends could see me now!”

Now Jesus had his core group set. At the head was Jesus himself, secretly giving head was Mary the repentant sinner, and his new band of twelve merry men strolling through the countryside giving motivational speeches and teaching classes on how to live the natural laws of life. He made a quick name for himself with people all over the Middle East talking about the son of Cosmo. That was great but he needed something big, something real big. Something that would put him over the top and get him noticed throughout the entire garden. He needed a miracle!
His real Mom Mary Anne offered another bait and switch, this time a more obvious one. “I have an idea that should work like a charm honey.” There was a high profile wedding at Thirty Fourth Steep, a high maintainence valley outside of Galilee to which both he and his mother had been invited. It was a kick ass affair but the celebration had run out of Ernest and Julia’s Galilee jug whine. Mary Annes came to Jesus and whispered, “Honey, we’re ready, they’re all out of wine, are you ready?” Jesus was indeed ready, he had four gallons of wine hidden behind a tree. He spoke very loud so all could hear what he was saying, “Peter bring me some water.” While his Mom created a distraction Jesus switched jugs with the water Peter had brought and soon the party continued with all in attendance believing he had changed the water into wine. Now the J-ster had mad street cred’s. It was all anybody talked about for the next two weeks. “Did you hear about this guy Jesus? I heard he took a gallon of water and turned it into 20 gallons of preamo whine. An urban legend was forming and it got bigger as it grew. 20 turned into 40. 40 into 100. Soon he not only turned water into wine and brought 10 huge pigs to BBQ. He carried them across the river on his shoulders! It was incredible. Everywhere you went you heard about this dude named Jesus, his hooker girlfriend, and his 12 faithful followers roaming the world feeding the poor, healing the sick, and stopping wars in the name of the god Cosmo. The towns and villages were abuzz with hope for their future. Everyone was elated. Well not really everyone. Remember that dude Herod, and the salad loving Caesar? They were none to happy. Neither in fact was the hierarchy of the Jewish religion. Seems like Jesus was gonna have some splainin’ to do to the Romans as well as the Jews. Apparently hey don’t like having their authority challenged. Something evil was afoot…TBC

A Very Haiku

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haiku

Mondays can suck so I use low brow humor to help force a smile. In tenth grade my English class was introduced to Haiku’s so my just as warped friend and I worked together to make the following two masterpieces….
I
Lifes like a lemon
So squeeze from it what you can
But don’t let it drip

II
When pigeons fly high
The sound that they make is called
A very high coo

Peace out

How Ya Gonna Keep Em Down On The Farm After They’ve Cooked Puree

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cook

the continuing adventures of J T Hilltop’s Potsink Diary
From pots and pans to rakes and snakes I took to landscaping fairly well. Sun burnt arms instead of grease burnt arms, just as hot as a kitchen, and about as physically as taxing yet still I missed cooking. It‘s been three months since the restaurant closed and fate stuck its fickle finger in my life interrupted my path to culinary enlightenment. Leaving me to care for the property of a nursing home and placing me every day at lunch just outside of the kitchen where the sounds of culinary exploits pounded out a rhythm of longing. It stirred inside of me making me miss working in a kitchen with all my soul. Aware of that fate wasn’t done tossing curve balls at my life because on one Monday I learned just what a practical joker fate can really be. Apparently destiny is equipped with a bag full of tricks containing an abyss of irony and has a knack for playing emotional table tennis with me. Like a ping pong ball I got paddled back and forth hard forcing me out of the restaurant across the net to a field of hard labor, then smashed back into another kitchen. Fred had driven me to Mimi Dee’s early in the morning to manicure the lawn while he ran about town “performing” some chores. Popular belief growing on the rumor vine claimed those chores he performed were for one of the nurses at the Huntersville location. Whatev, not my business and besides it was fine by me as it left me alone to work the property at my own pace.
Left to my resources, my new tools of the trade, and a cheap lawnmower I set out to give the yard a neat trimming and edging. A mani-pedi for the acreages of land. An hour and a half into my solo performance was the moment fate chose to sneak an ominous looking dark cumulo nimbus cloud slithering across the horizon setting up cloud camp above my head. One loud crack of sneering thunder and a few seconds later I was the focus of a drenching downpour. Not a dipping of the toe in the pool, but one soaked to the bone bucket full of rainwater followed by another. The skies blushed dark crimson as if foretelling the twisted new path fate had in store. Having become somewhat intimate with fates and destinies I had to assume that this new path would be lined with irony. “Jesus Christ this shit’s really coming down. Can’t get anything more done here so I guess I should go inside.” I mumbled it to myself to validate it was proper for me to stop work an seek shelter. As soon as I entered the back door a very familiar sense filled the room. The clanging of pots and pans as they jockeyed for position on the stove, plates chattering while being pulled and stacked from the dishwasher, and a general sense of culinary atmosphere called me by name. A private culinary symphony all for me supplied by that devious enigma called fate. The air was full with the smells of a variety of meats and vegetables with wafts of consommé memories from a large pot of chicken infused liquid hoping to one day soon become a soup. The smells and sounds were the familiar frantic state of culinary urgency shortly before service. The aura of intense pressure was reminiscent of Cavalieri’s restaurant, my one time Mecca. It was crunch time even in this institutional kitchen and I was so taken aback by my memories I shook off the rain and blurted out to the Nurse in charge of the kitchen, “Can I help? I know a bit about food.” Without a smile a very attractive Jamaican woman in a not very sexy nurses uniform yelled “I need zeese onions peeled and cut, tink you could a’handle dat?” Nary a word more need be spoken as I rushed over to the table with the onions, grabbed a familiar feeling knife and pulled out a cutting board. In a matter of minutes I had peeled, cored, and diced the onions. “What else do you need?” The Nurse stopped in mid stride and asked “You gotta all dem onions done?” I could tell she was doubting me so I held them up and said “Yup, where do you want them?” She smiled at me with a huge open mouth and I noticed a small gap in her front teeth. Suddenly something seemed more sexy about her despite the uniform. As I looked closer I realized the uniform fit pretty tight allowing me a gratuitous view of her shape. She was in her late twenties or early thirties, slender and very pretty with firm looking curves in all the right places. Her skin was smooth and silky with an exotic ebony glow. She looked at me approvingly with dark brown eyes that twinkled sweetly in contrast to the sharp authority she normally displayed on the staff. “Put day inna pot dare witt dee carrots.” When I asked her if she wanted a mirepoix I thought she was gonna run over and kiss me full on the lips. Maybe I hoped she would but either way she flashed me that huge tiny tooth gapped smile. “You do know your way round de kitchen. My name is Margie and yes, I needa celery in dare too. Tink you canna hanel dat?” Time to respond with my innuendo laced charm, “I can handle whatever you got Margie. My name is JT.” She teased back, “Zhay Tee huh? What kina name is dot, can‘t afford whole name? ” It was feeling good, cooking and flirting again, “My real name is Justin, but my friends call me JT because I am Just Thrilling to be with. It seems we are friends now so I guess you should call me JT.” “Yes indeed it do Mr. Trilling. I tink maybe we work well togetter.” She punctuated her statement with a suggestively tender wink. I won’t tell you my thoughts at that moment but they would make a beet blush. It felt great as I assisted Margie in the kitchen getting lunch together quickly and efficiently while the rain continued to pound on the back door just begging to come in for a visit. I smiled at how great it was to be back in a kitchen cooking and flirting again.
After lunch I helped clean up then went outside to put away the tools I had abandoned in the storm since the rain ended as abruptly as it had begun. As I was surveying the yard deciding what else I could do before Fred got back when I heard someone yelling my name. Margie was calling me from the front door of the mansion. When I got there she smiled a huge smile saying to me “I got some good news for you Zhay. I jus talk ‘a Misser Viero an him say you canna work here wit us inna de kitchen and aroun’ de home full time. We canna use the help and you no have to work inna da rain no more. What jew tink Jussa trilling?” There it was. Right there fate dangled its fickle tickle of decision in front of me chuckling at what ominous repercussions would come of my choice. But was it a choice or had fate already made up my mind for me? If I say I would love to Fred will be mad but if I say no I will be saying no to old man Viero and who says no to an owner? Yes also means no more shit spreading, being back in a kitchen, and the chance to do some more serious flirting. Round the clock nurses aides as well as a kitchen job. It really had felt awesome working in the kitchen with Margie. I could definitely see myself working with her and her crew of nurses. Not to mention all the young chicks who help her which I would be working with. Okay, go ahead and mention it I know I will. True I have a steady girlfriend and all, but like my Mom says, “You can look at the menu as long as you remember what your entrée is.” Not sure exactly what she meant but give her credit for trying to speak restaurantese to me. Decision was made while fate laughed. “I think I would really like that Margie, when can I start?” She looked as excited as I was and told me I should finish out the week with Fred and start next Monday. Once school starts we will work out a weekend and afternoon schedule. My new job would be to maintain the inside of the home, help in the kitchen and whatever assistance the nurses may need. All in all it seemed like it was nothing but gold, at least until I learned what new adventures were in store for me. I neglected to remind myself that things were not always what they seemed but that’s okay, I would find out in good time what new tricks fate had in store for me to tickle its devilish funny bone. As intimate as I thought I was with fate I never realized it was planning to teach me about some new adventures which would include urine stains and enema’s. I still had a lot to learn.
TBC

The Sighted Blind

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sighted

So much anger on display
Spewing opinions every day
Don’t realize they lost their way
Rise then fall like an old soufflé

Through a darkness so unkind
Through a world they have maligned
Nose stuck up high yet unrefined
The visions of the sighted blind

Ignorant masses
Acting classless
Living in bliss
Yet always pissed
Creating a storm
The new social norm
20 20 eyesight
But can’t see the light
They need their vision realigned
Show pity for the sighted blind

Voice and vision so distorted
Want their problems self deported

Independent thought in shortage
Think they have life problems sorted

They don’t care to ever listen
Solve with biblical dominion
Thoughts lost in cognitive oblivion
Should sighted blind be forgiven

They believe they have clout but have no doubt
They know nothing about how to sort life out
Just want their views to be on the news
Full of bullshit we can’t use
Want me to help their agenda linger
But I wouldn’t lend my little finger
Nevermind those left behind feeling confined and being defined
What in the Hell is on the mind
Of the esoteric and sighted blind

They act so refined
With the lies they enshrine
They are the sighted blind

Out Of The Frying Pan Into The Fertilizer

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field

Last time: “Maybe you’re right Buddy, maybe I need a break from restaurants. Tomorrow I’ll go check out Muncies’s Landscaping.”

By J.T. Hilltop

It wasn’t like I wasn’t used to the fecal matter slamming into the rotary wind oscillator it‘s just I wasn’t thinking the said fecal matter would be literal and figure so prominently in my life. The closing of Cavelieri’s restaurant was a lot to deal with and frankly the furthest thing from my mind was me needing a new job. No longer was I an apostle to a culinary madman, no more waitresses to flirt with, no more free beers, but worst of all no paycheck. I was now saturated with disappointment and disillusionment believing the universe had let me down. All my meditating and chanting was for naught. Maybe what I needed really was new path to follow, a change for the better. Time to seek another avenue of employment, to shed the dry snakeskin of the restaurant industry and molt to another field. Actually field sounds right Ken was right I should get as far away from any kitchen, knife wielding Chef or teasing waitress and do some fieldwork. I need a sacrificial rack of lamb. I should do exactly what Ken suggested and go work landscaping for Muncie and earn some cold hard cash. As fate would have it and timing being everything my brother’s ex boss was in need of one more laborer. Hell man I can labor! So it came to pass that I had became the new landscaper laborer for Muncies Field and Dreams Landscaping. More accurately put, I had become the new lawn mowing leaf raking topsoil carrying shit spreading go boy. I had chosen to become a hard working laborer having my skin scorched everyday by dermal burning threats the sun makes good on while also enjoying the hearty aroma of freshly decayed organic shit. Not just any old shit, but class A number one horseshit Munson got from the stables. Enough about the perks though, there’s also a downside.
Every day ended the same, my arm and back muscles pounding out a rebellious beat building to a painful crescendo. I try and cool the aches and pains with an ice cold beer but it seem as though all my muscles tightened up into ball of overworked subdermal tissues and tendons screaming at every movement. My skin radiates a pinkish aura from hours spent unprotected by those relentless threats of the harsh sun. It left my neck and shoulders feeling like they were rug burnt adding to my misery. As if that weren’t enough there was that omnipresent stench of decaying crap implanting its neverending carousel of stink deep into my nasal cavity. Deep! One of my less enviable jobs was to take compost, decayed animal shit and who knows what and spread the malodorous mixture across a field. At first the smell of evaporating morning dew so earthy and rich comes up off the ground like a wisp of warm steam in a pleasant tease just waiting for its replacement. Breathe deep and enjoy that nature while you can because within seconds the dank aroma of compost rises triumphantly up the nasal passages. Its a blend of some of the most offensive smells I could ever imagine, if dogs smelled that stench when they sniffed another dogs ass the species would go extinct. The steaming stench of a mountain outhouse combined with a quarantined fraternity bathroom joining forces with week old spoiled milk and assorted cheeses creating a cacophony of disgust that slowly creeps up my nose making an all out aerial assault on my entire being. The assault continues for hours even after my work day was done. Like pigpen the stench takes on an identity of its own following me everywhere even stalking me all the way to the shower where it finally meets it’s match and scurries defeated down the drain. A small portion of it sets up camp in my clothing as a rank reminder of my newly acquired hopelessness that was eased but never eradicated by the cold beer.
I began taking diet pills every morning to keep me awake and give me the energy to bust my ass out in the shit fields and then swallow down pheno barbs at night to sleep through the amphetamine rush. An expensive proposition because on days that it rained I would be sent home making no money for the day, needing extra beer and weed to calm me down from the pills. Between the pills, beer and weed I went through all my savings after just one week of solid rain. Penniless I was gloomily staring out Munson’s tool shed listening to the rain wondering how the fuck I got here. As if on cue fate suck its fat foot inside the door forcing its way in. Out of the blue my friend Patrick came by with an offer to become an assistant groundskeeper for a local dude who owns three nursing home properties. It’s a full time job despite weather and Patrick was quitting. The job was open and he promised to recommend me. Think how cool it would be to be able to use my newly acquired skills on three locations where you get paid even if it rains. That’s how it was that I became something different. Now I would be a shit spreader with a title. The assistant groundskeeper of the Vieros Healthcare facilities. I was still in charge of manure movement but now I can add garage cleaner to my resume. Whatever, I was working and making money on a regular basis again. Besides the work wasn’t nearly as exhausting so life was good again. Adios Muncie, now I can concentrate on saving up money to get the Hell out of here. Maybe even look for a new kitchen job come the fall.
I found myself spending most of my time at one specific locations, Mimi Dee’s. That was the nickname used by the staff at the Miriam Deegan Adult Home owned by the Vieros one of the richest families in town. They also owned two other homes but I only worked at each once a week. Vieros Ault Home was a full scale nursing home, and the Lighthouse was a health related facility, which is a fancy name for old folks home. The only difference in the two being that about eighty percent of the “patients” at The lighthouse and Mimi Dee’s could care for themselves. Those at Viernos couldn’t even wipe their asses but that was already too much information for me. My concern was making sure all the properties were well kept, trimmed and mowed so the families of the patients would believe that no expense was spared in the upkeep of their parents dwelling. Mimi Dee’s was sort of their flagship home so most of the attention was bestowed on that property. But I was happy mowing lawns and raking leaves, even trimming the shrubs which I knew by name. Not the Latin names, the names I made up for them to keep me sane while spending hours alone caring for properties. Big Zebra, Burning Bush, Sticks, just weird names to entertain me. One great benefit was not having the shit stink hanging around me all day and night.
So here I was in a quaint little Long Island community called Cool Springs working on a property of a former Pratt Mansion turned Rest Home. Tending to the chlorophyll producing floral zoo of colorful organic plants and flowers busy enjoying their days photosynthesizing away and looking pretty. My boss, Fred drove from property to property and left me alone most of the time. He drove me to Mimi Dee’s, gave me daily chore lists, like mow the two acres of lawn, trim the hedges, or weed out the flower beds, and went about his business. A questionable bonus was being invited inside for lunch everyday. Not the taste bud tingling foods Jimmy made but it was decent and best of all free. The best part about eating inside the nursing home was the company at lunchtime. I sat around the table with two other guys, six cute young nurse’s aides, and two nurses. On most days I was the center of the aides attention and I dug that. The free meal was back, the flirting was back, and the paycheck was back. What could possibly go wrong? Little did I know at the time, but fates fat foot was a mere ten feet away teasing me by tapping out the familiar sounds of pots and pans banging, plates clinging, and sizzles sizzling out a kitchen concerto. How I miss and love those sounds.