Tag: parody

Dying To Find Out (The story of JT’s Afterlife)

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after

 

Like many people I’ve often pondered what will happen to me after I die. Once we pass our expiration date do we get recycled, start again as someone new? Are we limited to the option of floating on clouds with wings and a harp or burning forever with the evilest most vile horned creature from under our childhood beds? Is it another step toward reaching our Nirvana? Or do we just cease existing altogether? Well this is the story of the very day I found my answer. This is the story of my afterlife experience…….

 

 

 

I

“Sir do you want fries with that?” Mmmm, fries. “Why yes indeed my young friend, supersize me with an extra large, I deserve a break today.” Of course I wanted a break it was on of those time I felt an need, no an entitlement to splurge a little and pay my homage to the demons of poor life choices. A really rough week was how I justified having that humongous cholesterol popping double bacon cheeseburger and free fatty acid dripping fries laden with sodium on that one fateful night. What the Hell, I’m all for freeing fatty acids and cheeseburgers come in second only to double cheese and pepperoni covered pizza. Holy guacamole what a tasty burger, better than a Kahuna burger although honestly I never really had one of those. I was having a bacon burger Royall that just begged for a can of Fosters. A jumbo half pound of grease splattering all meat hamburger topped with six slices of sodium laced fat filled hickory smoked bacon and four slices of lactose laden sharp cheddar cheese. All on this delicious sesame seed bun with “secret sauce”. It was the cholesterol lovers special, a sacrificial lamb to the great prophet Angina, patron saint of clogged arteries. It was oh so delicious going down and man oh man it just melted away the stress giving me that all warm and fuzzy feeling in my stomach.. The grease spots on my bag of extra large fries advertised an accompaniment of deep fried deliciousness. This meal was an orgasm and a half for my taste buds who were merrily dancing with reckless abandon all over my mouth. I’m telling you brothers and sisters, when you have the three B’s, life is good. Beer, bacon, and burgers. Collectively they make everything feel all tingly and giddy but as I would soon find out this particular evening that tingling was much more than the usual comfort food rumblings. All that warm and fuzzy tingling on the inside was actually a war erupting deep in my entrails and not a jovial taste bud enlightenment producing the happy tango in my belly

Unbeknownst to yours truly there was an acidic uprising throughout my gastric battlefields. The war of the small and large intestines was fully engaged and acids were bouncing and flying around everywhere. An all out acid attack was underway which was bad enough, but even worse, in cardiac central a shock and awe campaign was in full flight. While the intestines battled it out they sent waves of nausea up through the esophagus in a campaign to create a reflux warning. Tossing and turning, tumbling and churning, the gastro intestinal system did its best to raise the threat level to red and wake me up. But the eight or so beers and the large glass of boxed wine had seen to it that nothing short of an absolute hydrogen explosion or an atomic uprising would wake me from my comatose sleep. The battle ensued and intensified through the evening as much of the fat from the bacon, cheese, and hamburger had forced their way past the intestine walls and into the already wreaked liver. There it jumped on the hemoglobin transport and took the main artery directly to first coronary quadrant. The transport emptied exactly where the cholesterol had been preparing for its moment. The bad cholesterol, the axis of digestive tract evil had been planning for this event over the years, setting up roadblocks all along the arteries to prevent supplies from passing through to reach the life center. If it can cut off all paths to the heart an prevent the flow of life giving liquids to blood pumping center the evil cholesterol will be declared the winner! The blood supply line was doing its best to bring humanitarian supplies to the heart, but this huge bacon cheeseburger gave cholesterol just the advantage it needed to create a proper blockage. Now it can shut down its opponent forever. Without blood flow its just a matter of time. My time had run out, sad to say not a victim of a heinous crime, not dead from a car accident, not an overdose of illicit joy enhancers, not even a natural disaster for me to blame for my demise. Only person to blame was the man in the mirror, the man who knew damn well that all those poor choices would one day take their toll an this was the day. In the end I guess I’m glad I was asleep at the time because I never saw it coming, but stay tuned because what follows death is the issue at hand.

Now back to the fateful event. I’m not exactly sure how to put it into words but I was feeling lethargic, which isn’t completely unusual at this time of night given my hard job and party lifestyle. Still there seemed something a bit more strange to it that night. I mean sure the beer made me woozy and sleepy, and the work its gonna take to digest that huge bacon cheeseburger is taking a lot out of me, but still an unusual amount of lethargy. An almost sinister lethargy was settling over me. A few Zantac washed down with a tall cup of wine should take the edge off and then I could enjoy a serious chillax on the couch. I mumbled, “never again!” How many times have I said that? Ell this time my dear friends I meant it. This was my final dance, my last call.

The Zantac and wine combo platter successfully masked the sensation but not the reality. Having finished the mind numbing exercise of staring at the glowing colored pixels flowing out from the TV screen to process a multitude of worthless information it was time to turn in. I’m just flat out tired as shit and went to bed unaware it would be my last sleep. TBC

 

JT’s Story Of Life

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everything

 

 

 

 

 

A Fairly Accurate Fairy Tale Selection by JT Hilltop

Intro:

We can’t wait until our babies can talk until they can talk. That’s because once they start communicating the first thing they learn is how to ask questions. Not a question here and there but a barrage of never ending questions. “What’s sex Mom, what’s the finger mean Dad.” They wanna know everything about everything and the questions don’t stop, “Mommy, where do babies come from? Daddy, why were you moving furniture around last night?” Its just in the very fabric of our being to be inquisitive because even those unable to speak are curious. Inquiring mimes want to know.

Back when I was just a mere tadpole burning questions festered in my head as well. I drove my Mom and Dad crazy with an overwhelming curiosity. “Why do I have to eat spinach? Why do I have to put the seat up after I pee?” And so forth. Unfortunately the answers I usually got to real questions was go ask your mother or go ask your father but still I trusted that the two of them had the answers. Then one day I had an epiphany of sorts. If they give me the answers then who gives them the answers? Who the heck is explaining everything to them? Grandpa talks nonsense and Grandma just repeats herself so it can’t be them. Where the heck are Mom and Dad getting all the answers they give me? So I did what any curious young word detective would do, I launched my own investigation

. It seems they got their answers from some house like building they called church. Apparently this church place is only open on Sundays and in order to get in everyone had to be dressed up real nice. So I guessed that everyone who went to church got the answers to life if they got all dressed up. It’s some dude who wears a robe with a funny necktie thing they saw only once a week on Sunday that has the answers. He seems to be everyone’s father. The father stands up in front of everyone and talks, sometimes even scolds everyone. Then after yelling at them in an apparent attempt to make the parents feel better he makes us sing songs and repeat phrases like “amen” “and with you“ and the like. They pass around some baskets and people apparently either write their questions down in an envelope or they have to pay money to get answers. Mom even gave me a quarter to put in the basket so I assumed I had to save up enough money to get my answers from this father dude. After he finishes all his jabbering and singing he waits by the door to talk to everyone on the way out. I guessed he then gave them the answers to everything. But I had my doubts. I mean like why does this dude who dresses so damn strange seem to know everything? But this is the guy who gave my parents all the answers to all the questions of the world. This is the dude who told Mom where I came from, and told Dad how to make babies. But how does he know so much? I needed to find out. Another investigation.

I watched closer to see how it all works. First we all go into this huge room. A gigantic room actually, and this all knowing dude stands up on a kind of stage he calls the alter all lit up with candles. He stands at a podium and lectures everyone in the room, all of whom are sitting on these hard wooden bench like things. I don’t believe the designer gave any thought whatsoever about how peoples asses would feel just 5 minutes after sitting. I could see all of the kids and half of the Dads squirming around trying to find a position that doesn’t leave bruises on the cheek. That must be what they mean when they say turn the other cheek. Anyway this funny looking dude stands up there and tells stories about a long long time ago, tells us to open our song books and makes us sing songs. Then he gets mad and tells the adults how to live, which for us kids is the best part because its Mom and Dad getting some of the shit they give us constantly. But still, its boring as hell, which apparently is a word I can’t say even though its in that book the dude reads from. Is that where he gets all his info?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As it turns out he does know everything because it tells him in that special black book. it’s the Big Black Book of Everything he calls “The Bible” and it is considered by just about everyone to be the end all and be all of answers. Some people call it the holy bible. Funny word, if I heard a story with lots of holes in it I would think it’s a lie. Yet people put their hand on this book and swear to things and everyone else accepts that as absolute truth. It made me wonder what could make one book so damn powerful. If this book has the answers to everything and I read it myself I’ll know everything too. So I took a copy, which didn’t seem like a bad thing to me until Dad screamed when I got home and he saw it. Now I know what stealing is and that its wrong to steal. For one thing stealing results in an ass whooping, so you see, that book taught me something right from the start. I was learning already

I finally did read this Bible when I got older though, and what I did read absolutely amazed me. This book, this holy bible is filled with some very strange stories, even stranger than green eggs and ham. It was quite hard to read because even though the words were English words many of them made no sense. Like what is a begat? And why are so many people doing it? So I read it over and over until I could finally understand it. It was loaded with all kinds of rock throwing, sword fighting, and stories about whales and endless rains, and fights with whole buildings falling down and blood. Holy (there’s that funny word again) shite there’s a lot of blood. I wondered who wrote this Bible and why so I asked the Sunday dude with the funny collar how and when it was written. I have to tell you I was quite shocked when I found out. This shit was written thousands of years ago, and it is a kind of history book written by god. The story of Everything by God. Well he didn’t actually write it himself but it was his book, or as the father dude said his “word.” I think he had some holy ghost writers pen it for him but the first five books were written by this like four thousand year old bearded guy named “Mosey”. Not only did he write it, but he had a starring role in the second through fifth chapters. The rest was written by some out of work history teachers called scribes. That is until this Spanish guy named Jesus comes along, then all the different religions have different history books. But my interest was in the beginning, the first five books that seem to tell the story of everything. In the beginning when man created god in his own image. Or do I have that backwards? Maybe this Mosey dude was dyslexic. Somebody needs to spin these fantastic fables out.

So now that I’m fully grown and have an understanding of how all this church and Bible stuff work I decided I would spin this story with my own biblical proportions. I started thinking back to the time when my Mom and Dad would read me stories. All these wild fairy tales of ladies with hair so strong and long that a man could climb up her hair and save her, or a little girl that ventured into the house of a family of bears. Bears who ate porridge and slept in beds. There was a cross dressing wolf dressed as a grandma, houses made of candy, and even three little pigs who each made their houses from different things, one straw, one wood, and one was apparently a freemason who built his with bricks. All the stories were quite harmless really, and very entertaining to a young child. And I had no clue at the time, but these stories had more than just entertainment values they taught me something. They taught me about what my parents called morals. The moral of this story is don’t steal, or the moral of that story is to be considerate of others and be good, be home by midnight or whatever. The point is the purpose of those stories was to teach me what’s right and what’s wrong in a way my young mind could comprehend. As I got older of course I realized that pigs can’t talk let alone build brick houses, and bears live in caves and shit in the woods, and they don’t even like porridge. I learned things from these stories even though they were completely made up. It was just a way to get me to understand right from wrong in a way I could understand at the time. But now that I’m grown up they still expect me to believe in a garden with the first two people ever and some evil talking snake., a man building an ocean liner called an ark and grabbing two of each animal, insects, birds, all of them, and gave them their own rooms. Some kind of floating creature hotel filled with honeymoon suites. It floated around with them for forty days and forty nights while it rained continuously. Somehow they all ate, but not each other. The lions played with the lambs and the crickets and the birds and none of them gave into the temptation for forty days. It got me thinking about these bible stories. What if the funny collar dude was making up stories like The Brothers Grimm did? What if it is just stories written by his mom and dad to help teach him right from wrong? I mean it makes sense, right? Just like Rapunzle, or Rumplestiltskin, or Goldilocks. Maybe these stories of Adam, and Eve, and Noah, and Cain and Able were just fairytales to teach him morals.. What if they are really made up stories written to explain to the children of thousands of years ago how to behave and how to treat each other? And of course how everything came to be?

It brought me to an internal understanding. This bible, this holy book, is nothing more than the history of humans as told by the people who first learned to write. Most of these biblical tales are merely a recounting of stories that were told around campfires or homes around an area of land we call the fertile crescent. Now I need to rewrite these first five stories in the bible in way we can all relate to in more modern times. I need to write my own big black book, JT’s Story Of Everything. Bring it on!

TBC

I Was A Fly On Nixon’s Wall

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fly

The short lifespan of a fly doesn’t have much in the way of excitement so when I woke up in the oval office of The White House I knew I had a good story to tell my grand-flies. You know it must have been quite a ride landing me here in DC with Richard Milhous and his cronies but more on that later. First a little background about the life and times of us pesky flies.
All in all it’s a boring life. Oh sure if we find some dead body its like an all you can eat buffet for the entire family but that’s just a night out to binge and purge. There’s not a whole lot of exciting occurrences for a fly. Avoid that sticky gooey tape thing, play dive bomb at people heads while they try and swat us, and wait around to find some tasty shit. Literally. We live short simple lives and have very few needs. Air traffic patterns to confuse predators, anti-web maneuvers which, by the way seldom work, friggen spider bitches, and some good rotting flesh or defecation. Basically we eat puke, and eat again. Then we rub our hands together to make humans think we’re hatching diabolical plans and then just head out to look for some excitement.
Oh yea, about that fly paper. That’s my pet peeve man its a real bitch because we think we’re gonna get laid and then all of a sudden glop! Bastard humans make those sticky tapes smell just like lady fly fluids and I’ve witnessed many a friend die thinking he was gonna do some mid-air muff diving only to find himself trapped dangling in a gluey mess with a dozen other would be amorous fly boys. But I don’t want to bore you with the details of the danger of life as a fly I came here to share the interesting conversations I was privy to while I was hanging out in the oval office here in the Whitehouse during the days of what humans call the Watergate scandal. From my vantage point on the wall I was able to hear quite a tale with a cast of characters that, well lets just say for them to call our larvae maggots is extremely hypocritical. They think their fecal matter isn’t odiferous but any fly worth its proboscis can smell a politician miles from the beltway. But how did I get here? C’mon, I’ll walk you through it.
Okay the last thing I remember last night was falling asleep all snug in the hidden hair region of a women that I picked up bar. I had just flown in from Boston and man were my wings tired. It was pouring rain so I found this cozy little bar in Washington DC looking for a safe place to rest when I saw Destiny. Destiny was her name and my destiny was to find a comfy place to sleep in her warm pubic bed which is exactly what I did.
Destiny was at the bar drinking and when some dude started hitting on her it woke me up. “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing alone in a bar like this?” Phhhhtt. Real original! I started dozing back off because I had a feeling this clown wasn’t getting anywhere near my curly hair snuggle mattress. Not with an opening line like that.
But the dude was persistent so I couldn’t fall asleep. He told my ride his name was George and he claimed he was some powerful man in DC. Oh yea, and a Scorpio. Small talk? That was microscopic talk, this dude was going nowhere. I fell asleep when he started asking Destiny what her sign was assuming Georgie boy wasn’t getting any honey tonight, at least not from Destiny. I got the feeling the asshole was married and Destiny would no doubt pick up on that too so I felt safe and sound curled up in her warm curlies. But great God Brundle-fly was I ever wrong.
I woke up and found myself not in a soft perfumed curly muff hair mattress but in a dark coarse long brittle hair bed that smelled of cheap scotch and stale cigarettes. I found myself sleeping in the thick ugly mustache of none other than G. Gordon Liddy. Seems somehow Georgie Porgie got lucky at some point last night and I was given a transfer to Liddy Lip Central which brought here to the oval office of the White House.
Now G. Gordon was a real son of a bitch even by fly standards. Let me just say that I had no trouble throwing up on his smelly-ass lip rug to dissolve some of Destiny’s leftover love juice for my breakfast. He makes puking easy. Apparently he was some kind of bigwig in the FBI and has been screwing people over for a living for some time. He was a personal friend of the other asshole in the office, Richard Nixon. Think I’m bullshitting? Well I shit you not my friends because Tricky Dicky here taped the whole thing to validate my tale s listen to my story as I play the taped conversation and you’ll get what I mean.
TBC

Anno Domini /from Cosmo and His Garden Earth

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It’s well documented the way Judas betrayed Jesus just before their big dinner but there are a few undocumented occurrences that were left out. To begin with it wasn’t supposed to be ‘The Last Supper’ because it was an awards dinner where Jesus was gonna give props to his twelve disciple pals. Before the dinner began Judas came up to Jesus all doped up on his favorite drug opium. His cognitive abilities challenged he attempted to lay a sloppy French tongue slurping kiss on Jesus while at the same time reaching down to comfort his rod and staff. The J-man became alarmed when his man meat began to respond a bit too eagerly so he pushed Judas away. “Judas please! We’ve been through this before, not in front of the guys. It’s my reputation I want to keep up not my dinghy! They can see my semi right through this thin robe.” Judas feeling spurned (and stoned) began yelling “Cut out the dramatics you know very well you like when I comfort you. Now you cast me like a first stone? That father of yours dammit! Now I’m glad I told that fucking Lucifer where he can find you.” A deathly silence filled the room speaking stereophonic volumes. Judas had thrown the son of god under the chariot bus and the shit was about to hit the windmill. Tears welled up in Jesus’ eyes, “Judas…..must you betray me…. with a kiss?” Jesus was hurt but he also knew this was the plan from his old man so he walked into the Garden of Gethsemane with his head and dinghy hanging down. The rest as they say is scripture. As for Judas he was stoned and remorseful so he went back to Lucifer for something stronger to dull his heartache. Lucifer needing to rid himself of the bastard betrayer gave him a dosage way too strong and Judas OD’ed. Judas was found dead in the mud with a contoured confused look on his dead face. By the time Cosmo and Mary Anne returned from the District their son Jesus was dead on a cross.
The sight of the young man nailed to a wooden cross filled Cosmo to the brim with shock. Shock and anger. His beloved youmans had not only lost their way, they had killed the only son. What was even worse for the mourning couple was how violently they killed him. The thought of his son tortured, thorns stuck in his head, nails hammered into his hands and feet, left in the hot sun was too much to bear. Jesus was left to die all alone. Angered Cosmo turned his back on his youmans and headed back to the District with Mary Anne to be with fake Jesus, the child who had become Jesus’ body double. There they would remain for eighteen hundred and twenty three years. It took them that long to reach the final stage of their grieving process. One morning they just agreed it was time to go back to check out garden earth. Cosmo had been gone far too long. They returned just in time to see some dude named Louis Pasteur had figured out the world of tiny little organisms he called germs. Puzzled at these germs Cosmo spoke gently to Mary Anne, “Pius defecation, what the fornication has been going on here?” He needed to review what had been going on in his garden during his absence so they went straight to the surveillance videotapes.
Sans popcorn or any mood enhancing Cosmo and Mary Anne viewed the video on the giant abstract flat screen. They 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 pride. “Look at all this Mary, all the wars, famines, and diseases on Earth! What the burning underworld could they be fighting over?” Mary Anne had majored in Modern Galactic Sociology and was able to grasp the 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 believe they can own part of the garden all for themselves and created lines which they kill to protect. They have formed religions and each religion believes it has all the answers and they are willing to kill any who disagree. Me thinks they have been killing each other for so long half the times they’ve 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, not to mention something they call world wars. My sweet nebula what have they done to the memory of our son?” Mary Anne was on the money. The youmans believed it to be garden youman not garden earth. They lock up animals, experiment on animals, why some were even using animals as entertainment, either killing or being killed for youmans pleasure. Cosmo threw up a little in his mouth, “It’s true my love, they have blighted the memory of our son and used Jesus as an excuse to kill and maim. Its deplorable. And these germ things have caused 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 have gotten in my garden?” Mary Anne thought carefully before giving her opinion. The persons name she was about to use was a source of discomfort in their relationship. Not sure why because Cosmo did after all know what kind of work Mary Anne did before they became a cosmic power couple so he knew she had been with others. Even so Cosmo is a god and gods have major ego’s and relationship issues. Of course he had godpenis envy so he was not happy that Mary Anne had sexual 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 to sneak into his thought pattern without a hint of injured pride he mulled over her statement. In fact it was an a-ha moment for Cosmo. “Of course, the pathogen killer. Mychreigton had used satellites to destroy his own creations with micro-organism warfare. He would have destroyed them completely if not for the brilliant Lucille of the Babaloo galaxy.” Lucille developed and introduced the Kalocin antidote into the Andromeda Strain. Her brilliant work became a universal antidote which is still used today. “I have to figure out a way to introduce Kalocin in the garden. Maybe we can get this Pasteur guy to think he discovered it.” If Cosmo had dropped Lucille’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.
The two agreed to forge a plan to save the garden and figure out a trap to ensnare the demon seed that was planting demon seeds. Part one was to get the youmans to discover ways to combat the deadly pathogens and hopefully lead up at one point to Kalocin. They believed if they could show the youmans that if they continue on this path of making weapons so destructive it would threaten the existence of the garden it would stop wars. As for the god thing, they hoped that by educating the youmans more about the universe that they would all agree on one theory of how life began and stop killing people who threaten their god or gods. They noted how the youmans had already made giant strides in knowledge. The youmans had figured out mathematics and use abstract thinking and reasoning to solve problems. It’s helped them have a better understanding of their world and introduced the concept of shared education, especially science. Between the various fields of study they were certain the youmans would come to the conclusion that the universe was not created by God and therefore would stop warring. In theory anyway. From simple abacus to Fibonacci and his brilliant scale great minds have developed on earth. “Mary honey, look at some of the intelligent youmans that were in the garden. We had Aristotle, Socrates, Plato, Copernicus, and Galileo to mention a few.” Mary loved to play and said loudly, “What about Marco?” Cosmo chuckled and responded with a quick “Polo!” But Cosmo had more to say. “Yes and not just them, men like Columbus, Magellan, Isaac Newton, they have made tremendous contributions and created things meant for the progress of their species.” Mary Anne had her favorites as well. “Don’t forget Sam an his Morse code, or Jethro Tull and his seed drill. Not to mention Joan of Arc.” The playful jab did not go unnoticed but Cosmo was already thinking ahead. ”Uh huh, many people have had many contributions and with a little nudging we can get the youmans going in the right direction. But we do have to deal with old Mikey boy first. What to do about him?”
What indeed. A very touchy situation especially considering what happened in the past. But this is a different day and a different situation. Cosmo had to come up with a plan to prove that Mychrighton was behind the dabcle sneaking his destructive microscopic killers onto his garden. Up until now the germs an pathogens in his garden were all beneficial. First step was to make sure it wasn’t a natural mutation of the beneficial microbes. Cosmo had to isolate some of the killer disease carriers. He needed to employ the help of a friend. Who can he trust? Not Lucy, that would be a bit too awkward, and James, well James has enough issues with the return of the Klingon wars. The best person for this job is the always Jovial Frodo. Road trip to The Shire!
TBC

How Does Your Garden Grow

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garden

G.
Adam my son with your choices I grapple
I offer you melons yet you chose the apple
Now here we are in the Garden Of Eden
I offer you Eve but you’ve chosen Steven

I know I’ve preached love all through the week
But this ain’t what I meant by turning the cheek
The sanctimonious amongst us need to understand
How a marriage Can be between a man and a man

I don’t mean to be peeking inside of your bed
But I expect fornication not just getting head
How will I sanctify your living together
With you boys going out to play all clad in leather

A.
I pray to you father don’t harbor such vex
Love is much more than us just having sex
Why must they define the way we show our love
Is not everyone equal in your heaven above

If divorce and adultery is considered unfair
Sanctimonians you speak of own more than their share
They revel in their sins cause they get washed away
By sitting on benches in church on Sunday

While parentless children suffer unbearable trauma
Steven and I will raise our kids free of bad Karma
I know this might not be what your original plan had
But you created love without condition and everyone’s glad

G.
I created this world in a mere seven days
But I’m not here just tom garner your praise
I created sun and then water I created all life
I created this woman to be your wedded wife

A.
So much you created to make us all happy
But why is there hatred to make us feel crappy
The most beautiful thing any one of us heard of
Two people living life married….and living in love

PEACE

The Continuing Adventures of JT Hilltop/The Long And Winding Road Home

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home

Whenever you’re hitchhiking you take a chance on the driver’s intentions. Kidnapper, serial killer, sexual predator, cannibal. And those aren’t even the scary ones. But if you’re broke and you need to get somewhere far away taking a chance may be the only feasible option. I caught a glimpse of my reflection, wild stringy hair, rough beard, dirty clothes, and generally pretty unkempt looking and pondered further. On the other hand the person offering me the ride is also taking a chance. Perhaps I’m wielding a machete waiting to take over his truck, maybe I’m an axe murdered, or a road warrior searching for a target to engage in a fun packed evening of torture. So when it comes down to it we were both taking a chance. Thankfully for us both we each proved to be pretty much normal. Or at least not nefariously crazy. Jeb was driving a medium sized furniture store truck called Franklin’s Furniture. Creative name aside he was a relatively nice guy who it turned out has a home complete with wife, kids, two cats, a dog and I would assume a picket fence outside of Fredericksburg Virginia. The furniture store he drives the truck for is a family business with Jeb Franklin the oldest son of the founder and owner Frank Franklin. (I know, right?) The only excitement Jeb ever seemed to have was when he took trips down to North or South Carolina to pick up furniture for the family’s store. He was enthralled listening to my tales and I was more than happy to pass the time relating my travels in a slightly embellished format. In fact he was so enthralled by my enhanced tales and so tired of his “boring” life he decided we should pick up a few beers before he has to go home to his mundane life with “the wife and kids” and go hang out for a bit. So we pulled off I95 at Fredericksburg and drove about fifteen minutes before he pulled into a deli.
A plethora of thoughts began infiltrating my otherwise stable mind. Mostly those chances I mentioned earlier. Is this dude gonna bitch rape me, make me squeal like a pig in heat? Damn man maybe he really is a serial killer planning on chopping me in pieces to hide me inside his furniture. Perhaps scheming to skin me alive to make a humanhide leather recliner chair for Franklin Furniture. Or he could just really just a lonely guy whose biggest thrill is when the new prime time TV season begins? Of course I was hoping for the latter but preparing for the former. Fate would really have a fucking laugh and a half if after all the crap I’ve been through I finally choose to get my shit together only to have me murdered in the State For Lovers. Irony at it’s most seductive. Probably have me die unceremoniously too, just a boring straight up kill. No cool ritual killing or sadistic torture to at least make my last breaths interesting. But fate would have to find someone else to play it’s practical joke on because it turned out Jeb was just a nice guy looking for some company to break up his mundane existence.
When Jeb got back in the truck we drove to a cemetery, which I admit at first gave me frightened goosebumps. They were groundless of course because it turned out to be Jeb’s favorite spot to sneak in a few beers before going home when he returns from trips. It was a desolate quiet area, no traffic, no people walking around, nothing but a bunch of dead bodies. Spooky, but sacrosanct. And anyway Hells Bells man free beer! I mean it’s not like I’m gonna give up every vice on earth. So it was we drank beer while chatting and laughing at just about anything and everything as if we were best friends. I suppose for that hour and a half we were best friends. Then again, best friends don’t normally do things like what Jeb did to me. After the two of us were bordering on total drunkenness nature called out to me. I got out to pee by a big old tree in wooded area not far from the truck. While I was answering natures call returning about half of the free beer I had just consumed Jeb started up his truck and took off. There I was holding my own. Literally! I cursed fate for having found a way to get a quick chuckle in.
First things first. A wiggle followed by a zip so I could assess my new situation. Drunk, alone in a cemetery in who knows where, no money, no ride, and as is normally the case in my shithole life, no hope. No fucking way! Not this time, not this bullshit again. Every time I make an effort to stand up reality knocks my ass down again leaving my head spinning in some unfamiliar place. Dammit I was so damn close this time. Out on I95 with the potential to be back home in a day or so ready to leave all the bad luck behind. I was gonna turn my life around again only this time it was for real. But Destiny is not just a stripper in the club, destiny is a mother fucker who holds a carrot of beer in front of a gullible weak willed freak with a sarcastic smile. No way, no sir, not this time Destiny, no bills in your G-string od life. I’m gonna sober up, figure out where the hell I am and get back on the road. In the dark! With a belly full of beer! From a Goddam cemetery!
I was walking down the dirt road peering at the oddly symbolic tombstones reaching up from the earth as I headed toward the main road in search of Same Old Shit Highway. You know what? Fuck this. I’m not having it. I am not gonna let this derail me. This fuck up is just another stanza in JT’s song. Well I ain’t singing the fucking woe is me blues anymore! I’m singing inspirational tonight. I said I would turn this bullshit around and turning it around is exactly what I’m gonna do. Right here right now. My slumped over defeated slow walk morphed into a quick paced confident strut as I headed out of the graveyard towards the highway. Two snaps a twirl and a pirouette just to prove my point. Very powerful! There was only one thing I had overlooked. I was drunk. My peacock proud strut hit a large stone and I stumbled forward falling face first into the sidewalk. The scrapes on my knee’s and elbows combined with the pain from a slight ankle twist were nothing compared to the bruise my ego took. I apparently had an audience.
A young couple had witnessed my fall from grace unaware of the significance of it having been a fall out of a cemetery onto the sidewalk. But they were a caring couple who came over helped me up then listened to my tale of woe, no embellishment needed, with tremendous empathy. Jim and Deb were a few years younger than me both working their way through college before getting married. If the future of America lies in the hands of people like them then I’m confident we will all be okay. Deb offered to clean my scrapes and Jim informed me he was leaving for Boston in the morning. They offered me up a nights sleep on their couch followed by a ride as far as New York City. It was all I could do to keep the estrogen that had been building up from pouring through in a flood of grateful tears. I accepted. By this time tomorrow I’ll be back in Long Island, or at the very least back in New York. I was on my path to getting my life in order. The three of us walked down the silent street until we reached their apartment. The thought never once occurred to me that they might be one of those dangerous options of chance I had so over-thought about when riding with Jeb.
TBC

Microdot Management (p.1)

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magic rocks

The Night Before
JT Hilltop
Now I don’t advocate the use of hallucinogens (except in my case) but there was this one time when it did come in pretty handy. Not in an enlightened I see the truth sort of way, though that did occur often while under the influence of psychotropic shenanigans, but the time it basically saved my job. I was working as a dishwasher/cook for a Nursing Home back in my hometown in 1971. It was New Years Eve and I had to be in for the breakfast shift at 6AM new Years Day. At seventeen New years eve is a substantially important party and I was certainly not going to miss it just because I have to work early in the morning. I was hanging with my co-worker and good friend Randy-Man. We called him Randy-Man first because his mane is Randy but more importantly because one day he turned his apron around like a cape and I put a huge letter R on it. He was an awesome friend and was a sort of super hero to me and all the cool supernames were taken so it was Randy-Man became his moniker du jour. Anyway we decided we would bring in the new year tripping and then we would both go to work without sleeping. Sort of a pre-hangover/post-hangover arrangement. And so it goes.

So Randy-Man and I bought us a few hits of microdot mescaline. My Mom and Dad were out so we brought them back to my house to check out our stash of mind enhancers for the evening festivities. Purple Microdot. Tiny purple dots that looked kinda like purple poppy seeds or as we would soon find out like tiny balls of purple play-dough. They were tiny in stature but humongous in the alteration of the brain waves. In the dining room we placed our enhancifiers on the table to organize our highs. It consisted of a sizeable chunk of black hash, a dime or so of Panamanian Red weed, and ten microdots of mescaline. For me the difference between mesc and acid is that mesc is less physical hallucination and more color appreciation, and it planted a smile on my face for the duration of the trip which could only be removed using surgical techniques. It stretched my smile and laugh muscles to the optimum capacity and the next morning much like after doing far too many sit-ups made those muscles sore when using them. Not that I didn’t laugh on acid, but mesc just made everything even funnier. One of the things I liked about both was it gave me the illusion of having major insight, like I was an existential philosopher spending an hour enrapt at the various conclusions I came up with on my own. Like once while under the influences of blotter acid I reached the conclusion that it is impossible to stand in an empty room because it would have at least me in it if I was standing there. Whoa, mind blown! I still think about that moment of cosmic clarity. But back to the business at hand. I took part of the hash stash placing it in my chamber pipe and wrapped the rest in foil. Randy-Man being the superior joint person rolled a few doobs so we could stash what we didn’t need . Next the microdots. We planned to take one microdot each to start and wrap the others in a paper triangle for later orf maybe another time. Randy-Man accidentally knocked a few off the table onto a short shag rug. Much to our horror it was the same place my baby sister played with her play-dough earlier and the rug appeared to be full of multi-colored balls of the claylike crap that looked eerily similar to microdots. Time for a magic carpet ride. We consumed the entire array of colorful poppy like play-dough dots, hopefully consuming at least one microdot each. We opted to eat all the bits and pieces regardless of the play dough issue. I sure didn’t want the dust bunnies in my Moms vacuum cleaner to be tripping on my microdot tomorrow.

At any rate we now had an hour to wait for the concoction of mescaline and play-dough bb’s to get digested. I made a mental note not to freak out if my fecal deposits had a rainbow effect tomorrow. In the meantime might as well get started on the hash. After a lung bursting head exploding bowl Randy-Man and I were abuzz ready to take on whatever this New years Eve held in store for us. We always believed plans were a deterrent when tripping and short of a rock concert or a movie its best just to let the trip unfold how it wants. So off we traipsed into town to check out the local scene.
First stop was a pub called The Watering Can. Great jukebox, great bartender, great crowd. We grabbed a drink each and just grooved on the scene. One of the true benefits of tripping and smoking your high as opposed to only drinking your high is it lends itself well to the lifestyle of a pacifist which both Randy-Man and I were. Some of the others at the bar however found drinking lends itself more aptly to their more aggressive lifestyle and enjoyed the game of drunk bullying. We pacifist opted to take out our meager aggressions in the more mundane exercises such as playing foosball. A pair of drinking bullies saw that as an opportunity to berate a pair of longhair stoners and perhaps lure us into a lopsided confrontation. They sauntered over and placed the quarter on the table as a challenge. The mescaline was raging so we both laughed and told them to come on ahead and try cause we are on fire tonight! Now I was a decent Foosball player, not fantastic merely average, as was my Bud. However, on this particular evening the mescaline had super enhanced our powers of concentration and dexterity. It also loosed up our inhibitions removing all the stress of competition allowing us to play like champions. We showed the bully’s up by kicking their asses at Foosball with ease. I was making stops as if I already had the balls planned trajectory blueprint and Randy-Man was scoring goal with loud table slamming authority. I even scored one or two from my defensemen. We blew them away while laughing wildly a trait usually not etiquette approved in sports. As I said many of the senses become enhanced while under the mesc spell but as a result other senses often become minimized or dulled. One such dulled sense we acquired was our sense of danger or lack thereof. Usually while tripping that sense can only be awakened by a cop or a horror movie while tripping. Sometimes walking in a cemetery can have a similar effect but we just flat out didn’t realize the danger of showing up drunk ass jocks at their own game. Another dulled enhancement from the mescaline was our inability to control our laugh response. So it was we kicked their asses while laughing about it which apparently bully’s find in very bad taste.
The two alpha males feeling their territory had been pissed on disdainfully and had their manhood’s threatened by two weirdo hippie shits invited us to go outside with them. Not to smoke a joint like we would have done but to have our faces rearranged. We politely declined their offer which confused them for the moment but they were watching us like hawks. Feeling a might bit paranoid we decided to leave The Watering Can for another pub. The Cro-Magnon frustrated jock duo followed us outside stopping us when we went to get in my car. By this point the microdots took on a life of their own possessing even our bodies.
I learned a valuable lesson from this incident. It is extremely difficult even for a bully to punch someone who is constantly laughing and shows no sign of willingness to fight back. We laughed about rope-a-dope and the difference between kung fu and kung flu. They attempted to engage us in some basic violent male warfare by shoving us and getting in our faces. I asked my predator not to get to close because I had just gotten over Kung Flu which sent both Randy-Man and myself into a laughing frenzy. The bully’s looked at each other puzzled because they were more confused than when they were asked to chose #2 pencils for the SAT’s. The alphamost of the pair of confounded pit bulls with great distain in his voice said, “lets just get the fuck outta here, these hippie shits ain’t even worth it” to which the other bully apparently agreed with through a head shake. At least I think that was what made the rattling sound. I guess alpha male jocks find profound contemplation difficult so they just follow behind the apex male and sniff his butt. We stood there making our best attempt at composing ourselves as we watched the injured Dingoes fading into night. We had finally gained control of our laugh response when Randy-Man said, “I bet we coulda taken them.” At that moment we once again lost control of our laughter. It was the funniest thing in the entire world we had ever heard so we bestowed on it a most fitting accolade of non stop laughter we could manage until we could barely breath any longer.
The evening continued along those lines, dodging danger, laughing, drinking, smoking, and hallucinating. Like any other typical party night in town we were bar hopping staying as long as we could before it became ridiculously obvious that we were on something. We opted to go low key so we went to a fall back Irish pub, Finnegan’s Rainbow where life was all about drinking, playing pool, shuffle bowling, or pinball. All we need do was mind our own business and stay out of trouble. Good plan with good intentions until we noticed two young ladies looking our way. We had seen them around town but never got up the courage to introduce ourselves. But now here they are wanting to play shuffle bowl with us. There was a distinct aura in the air and all four of us recognized something mutual on a higher plane. When I looked into one of the girls eyes it hit me. They were tripping too! Not sure how, its not like we had a special mescaline users membership handshake or some sonic trip detector but I looked at the tripping young beauty simply inquiring, “microdot?” After three minutes of the four of us laughing she responded, “Are you asking me if I’m on microdot or if I want microdot?” After the perfect amount of pause I answered, “Both” then turned to Randy-Man and said, “Don’t worry I think we could take them.” The four of us began the longest laugh competition for which there would be no clear winner. It wasn’t funny and the ladies had no idea that Randy-Man had used the similar line earlier but that didn’t matter. Once one person laughs everyone laughs at least until they realize they don’t know why they‘re laughing to begin with. Then you’ll think about it an hour later and start laughing again. Like I said, mescaline makes everything funny. Long story short, the four of us became tripping companions, ingested more microdots, and had the time of our lives playing shuffleboard bowling like pro‘s. That is if laughing hyena’s could be considered professional.
Perhaps we were a tad over enthusiastic or as the bartender called it, unruly, but the time had come when we were no longer fit to be out in public. So the four of us jumped in my car, picked up some beers and got a room at The Muller Ridge Inn to party in peace. It was a double room with huge beds each underneath a large mirror. We had intuitively paired up and each couple chosen a bed to sit on where we planned to laugh in the New Year watching Dick Clark but circumstances had us dropping our own balls instead of watching the big drop at Times Square. Between the amphetamine rush giving extra stamina and the hallucinogenic properties making feelings extra intense the New Year was rung in a few times either without noticing ofr without caring that the other bed could hear and see everything. Then again, maybe we were all just to busy to think about it. We had such a great evening but before we even noticed it was 5AM. A quick shower (two at a time) we drove the girls back to their car in the village, got their numbers, grabbed a jumbo coffee, and headed off to the nursing home to prepare breakfast for the seniors. (No names were used for the fun and lovely lady friends we made because a few of the readers are from my hometown may try to figure out their identity the way they picked up on the real names of the bars we went to and the motel we stayed at)

From Cosmo and His Garden Earth/ Brave New World

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Late Devonian landscape. Artwork of wetland plants, and fumaroles during the ate Devonian Period (385 to 360 million years ago). The plants shown here include club mosses such as Aglaophyton. Bacterial mats (orange) surround the hot pools. A large millipede is at lower right.
Late Devonian landscape. Artwork of wetland plants, and fumaroles during the ate Devonian Period (385 to 360 million years ago). The plants shown here include club mosses such as Aglaophyton. Bacterial mats (orange) surround the
hot pools. A large millipede is at lower right.

JT Hilltop
Kirk and Cosmo had been friends since Elementary God Training School when life was just about splitting atoms with friends, playing star toss, and studying to be a future cosmic gardener god of a galaxy. Through all the millenniums since they have remained close so it came as no surprise top anyone that Kirk would be with Cosmo in the creation of his second garden attempt. Kirk was well recognized and praised for his work in his Tiberius galaxy so he had quite an array of awards. Cosmo never gave jealousy a second thought. He was overjoyed to have Kirk offer his opinions in the new seeding of his garden. “Zoinks Cosmo this is like the old days. Man your fucking garden is so colorful and full of vegetation. Nicely done my friend it’s coming along really nice. So which species are you gonna hit up with brainpower?” The two friends surveyed the globe. “Doc gave me two types of seed. The AB seed which is just basic intelligence, and some CD seeds which is a slightly higher grade. With AB seeds the new smart species will be able forage, hunt and gather and build simple tool and structures. The lucky recipient of the CD seeds will be able to build more complex structures, and have the brain power to make not only tools, but weapons for more effective hunting. See those hairy things down there?” Kirk looked into the jungle Cosmo had pointed and saw a colony of Apes. “Is that gonna be your intelligent species?” Cosmo shook his head excitedly. “Yea. Well not exactly. Look closer over there. I have modified the apes to look like that.” He pointed to another small colony of apelike creature with less hair and a straighter back. They were almost godlike in appearance. Cosmo glowed with pride. “I gave them less hair so they could move faster. They will need to figure out how to make clothing to keep warm, but that’s why they are getting brains. I also strengthened their spines, arms and legs. Gave them strong muscles.” Kirk was amazed. “Deity shit Cosmo they look just like you man!” Cosmo laughed heartily at this because he came up with the design after staring at his own body in the reflecting material for over an hour. “That’s fucking funny as burning brimstone Kirk. I’ll call them you mans because that’s the first thing you said when you saw them. Meet my newest creation about to become knowledgeable. The You Mans.” Kirk loved when Cosmo was inspired right before his very eyes. “Good one buddy, you mans sounds great. Why not make it like one word though?” Cosmo rubbed his head. “Okay, yumans. The male one will call man, and the female ones will be what?” Kirk laughed. Man, that’s perfect. Whoa that’s funny.” Comos turn to laugh. “You are fucking brilliant Kirk. Whoa man. that’s the female, wo-man.” So Cosmo had man and woman and now it was time to drop the seeds of knowledge.
“First I am going to put some AB seeds around.” Cosmo took some sees and sprinkled them on some of his creations in the land down under. “This is where I will put the first AB seeds. I will call these people my ABoriginals since they are the first.” He then put the power of reason in both North and South Columbia and the islands around them. He was getting low on AB seeds so he put a mixture of AB and CD seeds in his continent of Afrika and Eurasia, and the rest of the CD seeds everywhere else. “Well that’s that Kirk, now just watch them grow and evolve. Hey listen Kirk, when I was at the District Doc warned me about watching out for jealous gods. Is he being overly worried?” Kirks face hardened. “I’m afraid he may have understated it my friend. Some guys like Simon and Lucy may play little jokes Like the time Simon gave some of my species pointed ears. Oddly I ended up digging the look an adopted it myself. Oh and the time Lucy snuck these furry little creatures in she called Tribbles. Fucking things were adorable at first but before I knew what was going on they had multiplied in the millions. Lucille still laughs about them. Dang the trouble with Tribbles was epic! But there is a dark side to the mischief as well. I can’t prove anything for sure but I think Micrighton or Botchie fucked up my garden and slipped in these evil shits named Romulans. At the very least some god planted a vegetation that spat out deadly spores on my creations. And either the same bastard or another saboteur place a number of dilithium crystals in a transporter and it cloned evil twins of any who used it. I didn’t even find them for two weeks. Let me tell you that was a mess and really screwed up the dichotomy of my garden. That was no accident. You need to keep your eyes open all the time. I don’t trust many gods, especially those two. But have no fear Coz, you have many friends and we will watch you back.” Cosmo felt a little better but that other person in the room feeling was still gnawing at him. Could Botchigaloop have been there with he and Mary Anne? Or Michreighton? He was certain there was a third entity in the room after their night of sexual rapture but wasn’t positive it was a god. He considered mentioning it to Kirk but opted to wait. Kirk had read Cosmo’s notes on his new cycle of life theme .He looked at his good friend admiringly, “Please Cosmo, tell me more about you cycle of life. I find the concept….fascinating.”
Cosmo was extraordinarily proud of The cycle of life and was more than happy to talk about it to his friend. “Here’s the real deal Holyfield. I have programmed all the creatures with the laws of life, or more appropriately ’cycle of life’. Every creature is programmed for a life span which is exclusive to their own species. For some its only days and for others it can be a hundred years but each has its own cycle. They are born, they live, and they die. The law is that once they die they must avail themselves back to the garden. I call it decay. Other creatures, or bacteria, or insects eat the flesh, organs, and muscles and convert it into organic material for vegetation. The vegetation gives off oxygen which allows the creatures to breath. So they have a life cycle and when they die they become part of a larger cycle. Each creature is responsible to formulate a strategy of survival. They must do whatever they can to make the chances of their species continue. Thus the cycle of life.”
“Fascinating! Cosmo you are a fucking genius. That is beyond brilliant. Everything relies on everything else. They know all this? What other life laws do they follow? Give some examples please.” Kirk was enthralled and wanted to hear more. “How specifically does this survival shit work? Fascinating! And remarkably logical.” One of the things Cosmo loved most about Kirk was how intriguingly organized and analytical his mind is. “Kirk, you are gonna love this.
Let me start with sea turtles. Every turtle knows it must run for the water upon birth in order to live. No one tells it to run for the water it knows instinctively. The very moment they enter the garden it’s a mad dash for the water because many birds like gulls view them as tiny shelled hors d’ouerves. So a female turtle lays like a hundred eggs and buries them because she knows many will not survive. Some become nourishment for birds while others reach the water where they will live. But even then not all will survive. They must now worry about becoming dinner for some smaller fish. The ones that live will reproduce and start their cycle over again. Since they were the strong and smart ones that survived they will have offspring with strength and smarts too. Like a natural selection. While alive they feed on poisonous jellyfish which they are immune to, hence giving something towards the betterment of the sea. On land my mammels know right away to look for the life giving teat of a mother. The mother nourishes them until they can fend for themselves. Lets take a goat as an example. We have a black goat and a white goat over on that mountain. Different species. Lets say the black goat’s mom dies and can’t feed the baby black goat so it goes over to the white goat. The mom refuses to feed it because that would be a threat to the survival of her own baby. See those huge majestic eagles over there?” Cosmo pointed to a tree with a large nest and four eggs. The mother has four eggs but only enough ability to feed two babies. Upon birth the ones born first will many times kill the newer ones as they are trying to leave the shell . That’s their strategy for survival of their species. Butterflies have to struggle out of the chrysalis to signal blood to flow to the wings to allow flight. Everything knows just what it must do to survive and if it fails to follow the law or gets lost or eaten it will drown in its own gene pool. Everyone for themselves within in the clan of a species for the better of the species.” Kirk stood mouth agape at the amazing creation. “Devine mother of Cronotitan! I bow to you my liege. This I nothing short of absolute.” Kirk bent down on his knees and offered his arms over his head. “I’m not worthy, I’m not worthy.” Cosmo let out a long laugh. “If you liked that my dear friend, just light up a smile stick of cannabis while I tell you of my ants and graminoids. Two brilliant blueprints I left for the youmans.”
Everything in the garden has the power of some form of communication. This is the key to existence. Everything has the ability to communicate in one way or another, taste, sight, smell, touch, or sound I gave the youmans vocal chords similar to ours and various other forms. My snakes have forked tongues to push the air into a sensor on the tongue that acts as a nose and they communicate by smell. Some species are developing an ability to hide from predators using colorful deceptions to help insure the continuation of their own. Oh here, check this out. I have bacteria living on the water. By touching each other they gather information. Once they have enough bacteria together, they communicate by touch and all begin to glow like one big school of happy shiny fishies. Bioluminescence. Fantastic. The larger fish see them and eat them, and thats where they live, inside the fish stomach sharing the fishes food. When they die they become part of the big fish waste and give back to the garden. They all want to be part of the garden. It is truly an amazing thing to watch. However those little tiny things way down there are my ants. I have designed them as a kind of blueprint for the youmans. If the youmans are as smart as I hope they will be they’ll study these tiny works of creation art. They are the closest thing to a perfect species I have ever made. Ask me, these are the most intelligent thing in the garden except that they can’t reason. The very second they enter the garden the know their purpose and how to achieve it. Some are specifically born for mating, the ones with the ability to have the highest amount of offspring. Others are foragers that go out in search of food. Once they find it they communicate to the workers where the food is and the workers all get together and carry it home back to the colony. Everything is for the benefit of the colony.” Cosmo stopped to puff on the joint. “Brilliant Cosmo, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the one so the colony may live long and prosper.” Cosmo let out a plume of sweet smoke. “Exactly my dear friend. All the youmans need do is observe how well they work together to build and feed the colony and they will be building cities in no time.” The two friends finished the herbal delight and surveyed the world. “It all looks great Coz, what about this graminoids you mentioned. What’s their significance?” They went down for a closer look and Coz showed him patches of green all over like area rugs or a green carpet on earth. “I call it grass for short. This grass serves a great deal of purposes. It serves as a food for many species, it retains water to keep the garden cool and moist, it can be used for so many things but it has one huge significant purpose. If it they study how it works it will teach the youmans how to grow all kinds of vegetation at their will. That knowledge could cause a revolution.” The two friends finished the weed and hung out trading stories for the next few hours but it was time for Kirk to head back to his own enterprise. “G’luck Cozzie my friend. I will wait with baited breath to see how your youmans turn out. Until then, beware of things unseen. Live long and prosper dear friend.” At those prophetic sounding words a cloud of confusion settled over Cosmo. He wasn’t especially good at being suspicious but he promised to take Kirks advice very serious. “And you as well my dear friend. I hope to see you at our next reunion.” Cosmo heard a “Beam me up Scotty”, and in an instant Cosmo was all alone again. Well not alone really, he had his suspicions with him as well. TBC

Double Entendre, A Three Act Play On Words

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double

Some may find the language offensive but it’s only words and words can never hurt me. Sticks and stones on the other hand…
If you happen to be one easily offended by words or sexual content scroll the fuck on. If however you have a mind as childish, silly, and uncensored as mine, please continue.

Act I ……………….. A Cheating Bitch with a Heated Itch

Our sex sucks because of your success when you sucked sex for your success
Now my heartache is such a hard ache because our hard break was such a heartbreak

You let a heating hard on turn your cheating heart on and I’m the one getting burned
You strayed away straight away out getting laid the moment my back was turned
Now you’re a success because you can suck sex your way into success with the boss
You elected to erect him let him pry into your rectum leaving me with an erection loss

During all your sexual journeys you got down to suck on your knees so we both need attorneys to sue
You let him cum in your tummy while you were cumming yummy I won’t comment cause it’s my balls that are blue
Cause you didn’t use your noggin while you were out knocking in bed and out on the town
Cums as no surprise you took your eye off of the prize so my price went up high while you were going down

Act II…………………… Fucking Your Way To The Top

Fill up my money pot
For using your honey pot
Your gonna get a lawyer shot
And I don’t really give a snot
Money I want to get a lot
You just want to squat a lot
Because you’re fucking your way to the top

You’re blinded by your vision
Your empty blind ambition
When with sexual precision
You opened your incision
Then you had your collision
It was your bad decision
Which is causing our division
While you keep fucking your way to the top

My eyes are red and dried
Cause every night I’ve cried
Choking on my pride
Cause he gets deep inside
With you laying right beside
Waiting to get supplied
Inside your great divide
You’re like Bonnie he’s like Clyde
He is taking you for a ride
Still you keep fucking your way to the top

Polishing his knob
Slurping like a slob
Making him throb
From a cut rate hand job
But hey babe no prob
Now I can quit my job
My lawyers are gonna rob
That cheating corporate snob
Because you just don’t fucking know when to stop

Act III ……………………….. At Least The Sex Was Good

You give out head to get ahead while getting ahead and getting head
Both you louses have got spouses now our lawyer louses want your houses
Like a traitor he betrayed her while you traded like a traitor you betrayed our love
Took off your girdle for his turtle but a hurdle is you’re fertile so I hope he wore a glove
He sounded insightful so you let him get inside you to light you so delightful when you came
First you blow him then you’re below him taking so much juice it bloats you what a shame

Jesus it never ceases your afraid that if he sees us hell have a seizure but I don’t really care
The bullshit it increases all in bits and pieces until your cheating ceases I’ll be in despair
I still remember doing you when the dew in you was spewing through you came bout every time
I climbed your back you climaxed back we maxed our sex with sweet success that chimed
Once our sheets were stained by heat we did the feat between the sheet and never did it suck
No more heartache no more hard ache my heart is hard baked I’m stronger I no longer give a fuck

It wasn’t fair you had an affair and if I had enough air maybe I’d fare well
But I didn’t fare well so I’m saying farewell and paying your fare all the way into Hell