Tag: writers

Cuz I only Have Pies, For You

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only pies

Is the dough out tonight?
I don’t know if I rolled it out right
But I ONLY HAVE PIES
Foooooor You

Ah yes, holidays are here and its time to get pie baking. Apple pies, mincemeat pies (which is what my Mom once threatened to make out of me), cream pie, chicken pot pie. Wait, what? Is that a three course meal, chicken…pot…and pie? Or is there a reason they call them pot pies? It begs the question, is it possible to use the same rolling technique I learned as a teen to roll out my pie dough? Perhaps. I remember the first time I learned to roll my own back in the day, so maybe it’s like riding a bike and one never forgets. In fact I believe if I had some rolling papers and something to roll in them this second I would till be able to create the perfect fatty. (Do I mean hypothetically? Perhaps)The real question is this, can I use that same long ago learned skill to make my pies for the holidays? Well The Existential Baker has never been one to give up without giving it the old culinary college try, so lets investigate. Nothing to lose anyway, if it doesn’t work I will just fall back to the old school daze of rolling when I was on the honor roll of joint rolling and set myself up with a good old fashioned doob. (definitely not hypothetic)
First I want to investigate the commonalities of smoking herb and baking. Here we go. Cakes are like the baggies of herb in weed world. A half ounce is like a six inch cake, a lid (very old term for between a half and an ounce) is an eight inch cake, and the five finger ounce is a huge ten inch cake. Quarter pound is a half sheet, and well you get the picture. The higher the quality the higher the cost. You can get a cheap store bought pre made cake for the price of Mexican green weed, a home-style bakery fresh cake for the price of Acapulco gold pot, or a custom made baked to order cake in the shape of just about anything which is like a purchase of killer Thai Stick. All of them taste great and make you feel good but the Thai Stick is by far the most enjoyable and impressive of highs. I specialize in cupcakes, which is more like smoking from a bowl of a multiple hose hookah pipe.
Picture this, a giant mushroom, a tie dye colored humongous caterpillar sitting on top of it smoking from a hookah pipe. He offers you a hit and you smile like a Cheshire cat. Either you’re referencing Alice in Wonderland or your doing hallucinogens not weed. Ease up on your THC levels. But back to the hookah. The multiple hose hookah he offers you is a pipe designed to offer a smooth smoke for multiple users, more than likely a must have in the good old opium dens where Eastern Mystics went to light up and chillax. That’s kinda what happens with the cupcakes, you sit around a table and everyone is empowered to enjoy whatever flavor they chose, unlike the basic chocolate layer cake which needs to be cut and portioned. And everyone get the same buzz. (From chocolate) With cupcakes the user, or eater, just picks whichever one they want and its all ready for them, in a nice neat self contained package. I also make bite size mini’s, which is like a set of one-hitters. Anyway, around the table you sit with the cupcake of your choice and you can use a fork or just stuff the dynamic flavored treat directly into your mouth. By using the best and freshest ingredients we bake our little treats then offer them up for consumption. Cupcakes may also be used for medicinal purposes, having properties which help combat depression and other mood related afflictions. No prescription is needed, just an okay from Web-MD or a simple self-diagnosis will do. But please use in moderation, cupcake withdrawal can be a bitch. That’s how a warped mind like The EB views his cupcake creations, like high grade pleasure inducing treats made individually for each one to indulge as they choose. We create preamo organic mind teasers and palate pleasers for your recreational or medicinal enjoyment. (for private parties I have been known to enhance them with ……. Lets just say more organics). But I’m off on a tangent which happens often when the mind is distracted by weed, I mean cupcakes, so back to rolling.
Back in the day the rolling papers were too small to make a proper fatty. We had to get resourceful sticking two papers together. The same concept applies with pies. Two separate discs of rolled dough for a fatty of a pie. Its important to get the dough to the proper thickness and size for the desired result. Once rolled its time to put the product inside. Lets say its some high quality sliced Washington State G-Mama Smith apples cut with some sugar and spices. Too much filling will rip the paper, so proportion is important but you want that mother stuffed to the max with a nice mountain of sweet surrender. Oh to live on, Sugar Mountain! Now we need to stick the two shells together. I’m not going to lick the pie dough because….well gross, so in place of my saliva I will use some whipped eggs and brush the edges gently just as I would have licked the glue. Using a rolling pin replaces the art of holding your product between index fingers and thumbs to roll it up. You won’t need that to roll out the dough but remember that skill because it will come in handy when you need to pick it up and place it on top of the apple mountain. Roll the dough in a circle a tad bigger than what you need then fold it in half. (use plenty of the white powdery stuff to prevent sticking) Then using thumbs and index fingers pick it up and place it on top of the apples with the crease across the middle. Use the aforementioned pinch method and flip it over the apple creating a pleasuredome. Gently press along the edges to seal, cut off the excess dough and crimp for a perfect fatty of an apple pie. Now its time to bake. Matter of fact, let’s put it in the oven and we’ll all get baked!
This may be a bit of a stretch, but when you get down to it many of the skills I acquired back in the days have come in handy working in kitchens. Cutting and portioning with a spatula or knife instead of a credit card, sifting flour at an angle just like cleaning weed on an album cover, or rolling dough the way we rolled joints. So when you get down to it, my youth was clearly not misspent, and I received a valuable education at school outside of the classrooms……PEACE

Like us on Facebook at Jarets Stuffed Cupcakes, or visit our website….http://www.stuffedcupcakes.com/

Seasons Greed-ing’s

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turk

No Virginia, There is no more miracle on 34th street

Thanksgiving is this Thursday and there are some who are seriously in need of your help this year. The disenfranchised franchises of retail stores. Due to “calendar irregularities” the shopping season is six days shorter than usual which may force several CEO’s of major retail stores to cut back on their caviar this year, or worse, be forced to get their children practical gifts this holiday season. But that’s not what worries them most, they’re real concern is about us, the hard working shopping public. That’s why these stores, Macy’s, Wal-Mart, JC Penny (they are personally responsible for keeping the JC in Jesus Christ-mas),K-Mart, Target, Old Navy, Kohls, and Macy’s will have someone ready to wait on you in their stores Thursday. I know I mentioned Macy’s twice but their underpaid accountants project that the stores profits may sink below 40% this year meaning its gains may be less than 6 ½ billion by years end. So taking into account that combined with their concern about you and your family get to-gethers I felt they deserve extra mention. Anyway, I’m asking you to show your support for these struggling companies who are so desperate they are willing to force their low level underpaid staff to get off their lazy asses and get into work on a family holiday. Go shop, to Hell with family. Thank you CEO’s, your generosity borders on patriotic.

So please don’t make plans to stay at home with your family this Thanksgiving, help the CEO’ sit proud in their boardrooms. Open your hearts and your wallets and pull out your credit cards and spend the day (as well as all the money you have, plus some you don’t have yet) the way the Pilgrims would have if they hadn’t been so busy sharing food with Americans. Maybe they did, maybe history is wrong and it wasn’t a feast but a flea market where the Native Americans traded the foods they farmed and the game they slaughtered for whatever the Pilgrims put up for sale. Designer feather headdresses at Gimme-Mart, Cooking pots from The Cellar at Mayflower Stores, trinkets from WM Penn-iless, or the latest in colonial technology from Pilgrims Plug In. So maybe these generous companies aren’t just trying to make huge profits on the backs of their minimum wage employees, maybe they are merely celebrating in the true spirit of Thanksgiving by opening their stores the way the Pilgrims did for the natives. So be patriotic, forgo family fun, get out to the stores and spend spend spend. Not spend time with family, spend your money so the CEO’s can comfortably spend the day with their families, with caviar, extravagant gifts and all. You can get the whole family together for a day of love and sharing any time, but the sales only last for a limited time. While supply last. I don’t know about you but I sure don’t want to be the one to deprive big business of an opportunity to make a few million in profit, that’s downright inhumane. To hell with family, get out there and do the right thing, shop till you drop.

This year we all have a chance to make a difference and get a good jump on our holiday shopping instead of connecting with the ones we love. Be thankful? For what, we deserve what we get! Sure there are thousands of our fellow American who are homeless and starving but people will always go hungry in our country, that’s just how we roll. Besides, I have no clue what their circumstances are but they no doubt brought it on themselves by being lazy waiting for handouts. Screw them, they can have all the empty cardboard boxes after Christmas. Or you can be one of those liberal so good protesters who vow they won’t shop this Thanksgiving day because they’re outraged at the way the company shows distain to the lower classes. Truth is the companies don’t give a shit about the protests, they know your as addicted to spending money as they are addicted to stockpiling it. Their focus groups show we’ll just spend the money in their store on another day and within three years time we will all be so used to stores opening on Thanksgiving the magic behind the holiday will fall prey to commercialism just like Christmas has. By this time three years from now the day will become juts another holiday we can stretch into a 5 ay weekend to get drunk, watch football, and go shopping, because we all know there aren’t enough Sundays to do that in regular football season…

As for me, I‘m going to spend the day as I usually do, inviting family and friends over for a fanfuukkentastic meal, awesome wine and beer, and great conversations. At 12 noon I will stop everything for a half hour while I listen to Alice’s Restaurant Massacre, a hippie tradition I have held up since 1971, and reflect on all the wonderful people that have had passed through my life. If you shopping is part of your tradition go for it, its your option, but consider first to take one moment in time, one day of the year in which no one gives a shit about politics, religion, or any other distractions that seem to rule our lives and put all the garbage aside to appreciate how much we love, and how much we are loved. Love, Peace, and Hope. You can’t find that on sale anywhere but if you really want it anyone can afford it ….PEACE

Sinner Ella, beneath the silver slipper

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ella

A Sick Bastards Fairly True Fairy Tale
J.T. Hilltop

What’s the deal with the story of a young chick who is tossed into servitude to her jealous step sisters and overbearing step Mom who magically transforms a pumpkin into a coach and herself into a diva to seduce a rich prince, then fleeing when time catches up with her. Not only that, she happens to leave behind a slipper luring the prince into a kingdom wide search for the fantasy woman’s foot who will fill that slipper. Lost slipper? Please! More like some Jimmy Choo”s Come hump me pumps she wore to entice Princey boy. Prince have a shoe fetish maybe? What kind of trickery is used to make mice look like horses? Who is this Fairy Godmother and why did the repo-man show up at midnight? Only the sick bastard can answer these poignant questions so here is JT Hilltops version of events from his “Sick Bastards Fairly True Fairy Tales.” I’m here to unravel the salacious subplot and reveal the half truths of this sacred story. Salacious indeed, the true tale, or should I say tail, has what it takes to rise up beyond your horny expectations. I hope to make it stand up in court and render an explosive climactic verdict. Open wide!

There’s many versions of this sordid tale but the most well known and accepted by far is the version told by our old pal and inspiration behind theme parkery Walter Disney. So that can only mean its true ergo that’s where the sick bastard will begin to take the treasured tale and twist it into a warped shell of itself. This isn’t the fairy tale your mama read you at bedtime, this is the story of the not so innocent Sinner Ella, the shapely and strikingly beautiful high heeled seductress with a secret helper and a gift of satisfying the most voracious sexual appetite that give her a much needed advantage …With a Wham Bam Whatta Slam Bibbitty Bobbity Bada Bing Bada Boo!

Once upon a bunch of thyme the 21 year old gorgeous Ella Fuchs was a good cook and sandwich maker who understood the value of a well placed sexual favor. In and out of church she was known as Sinner Ella and her list of sexual accomplishments earned her the coveted “Peoples Choice of Jumbo Golden Globes Award.” Her home movies, be they consensually filmed or secretly filmed received an XXX rating. She used her sensual piercing cobalt eyes and thick alluring lips to render her an advantage with just about everyone. Just about. Her sexual antics seldom worked at the home in which she lived with her frigid old step-mother, Lady Tremaine and her two step sisters Drizzle and Anna Sthesia who could best be described as…..well, homely. They were jealous of Sinner Ella because as a child the pretty Ella had won Bare Naked Toddlers and Tiara’s one year and was headed for fame and fortune in the erotic film industry. That is until her Mom, Clover Honeybear Boobaleeboo passed away leaving her alone with her father. The old boy didn’t trust himself around his sensuous daughter so he married Lady T. to help raise her and prevent him from a life of incestuous scandal. One night he went out for a pack of cigarettes and never returned. Poor Ella was forced to live a subservient lifestyle to the step sisters and step Mom. Sinner Ella prayed that one day someone rich would come by so she could use her oral wiles on him to get him to take her away. It was a sad situation but Sinner was sure that she could lick the problem.

Lady Tremaine was concerned about the competition Ella would give her own daughters so she destroyed all of Ella’s sexy gowns and threw away all her shoes. All except the one pair that Ella had hidden away, her no fail Jimmy Choo come and get me pumps with the spike heel and ankle straps. Sinner had seduced many a man and a half dozen women using her hump inducing pumps and she knew some day they would once again tickle the libido of someone who could free her from her circumstance. Some day!

“Ella you slut make us something to eat and don’t forget to feed Lucifer.” Drizzle seemed to enjoy ordering her slave girl around but Anne Sthesia was a tad more nice, knowing that Ella had a skillful tongue. Anna called from the bathroom, “Sinner, I need a towel to dry off.” Ella knew what that meant, it was more like a moistening up than a drying off. She put some chicken in the oven, fed the cat Lucifer, then headed up to the bathroom with a load of clean and folded towels. “Put the towels down and come lick me.” Anna was sitting on the edge of the tub so Ella put the towels in the cupboard and knelt down between Anna’s knees. She gently rubbed the inside of Anna’s soft white thighs. She hadn’t even been in the shower yet. Ella traced large circles around Anna’s thighs using her soft carnal touch making Anna breath hard before bending her head forward to allow her tongue to go to work, hungrily lapping Anna’s vajayjay paying extreme attention to her clitoris. Ella knew exactly where to touch Anna who was gyrating her hips around Ella’s long curly blond hair letting out a soft “Ohhhh my” Ella’s instincts took over and she expertly plied her tongue in and out of Anna vigorously as Anna’s moans got louder and louder until she climaxed. “Oh my God Anna, come bathe with me.” The two set in the warm water as Ella tenderly washed every inch of Anna’s body with soap as well as tongue. No sooner had she finished bathing her when Drizzle’s voice screeched out, “Maaaaa. They’re doing it again and she’s gonna burn lunch!”

Sinner Ella quickly jumped up from the tub, dried off and ran down to the kitchen where Lady T was waiting, face all scrunched up in a scowl. “God damn you little bitch you’ll be the death of us all. Keep your slutty girlie sex shit to yourself you dyke and finish cleaning up this house. I’m taking the girls shopping to get gowns for the Princes Ball on Saturday. You make sure all the chores are done and maybe I’ll let you go too.” Ella smiled to herself dreaming that she could dance with anyone let alone a Prince, but she also doubted it would ever happen. Nothing good ever happened to Ella since her father abandoned her. She worried the only dancing she would ever be involved in was pole dancing or lap dancing at the “Daddy Issues Naked Titty Bar” in town. She obeyed finishing the chicken lunch and served it to the three bitches that were ruining her life. After lunch Lady T took them out shopping while Sinner Ella alone in the house danced with a broom pretending it was a man. She then used that man to sweep up all the floors, plus she cleaned the dishes and straightened out the living room. She looked over at the three piles of dirty clothes thinking her chores would never end.

While scrubbing the kitchen floor Ella heard the three shopping ladies come home all excited. “Come Sinner Ella, come see what we got for the Princes ball.” Drizzle held up a spectacular Ann Tyler Blue sequined full length gown with a long slit up the thigh. “Ewww Mommie, I like! I bet that Prince will want to do me right there on the dance floor.” She then opened a shoe box, “Especially when he see’s my sexy self in these black leather Prada’s here.” Sinners heart sunk, the shoes were remarkable. Patent leather Saffiano pumps in Nero black with two and a half inch heels. A shiny pointed toe shoe that would reveal just the right amount of toe cleavage. Sexy yet sensible they were quite hot, but still nothing compared to Ella’s erection enticing Jimmy Choo’s. If only she could wear them to the ball and dance with the Prince. If only! Then Anna held up her gown, a fiery red Jovani full length sleeveless V neck sure to highlight her more than ample cleavage. She would surely look super sexy in that number, but worse, on top of that she would be wearing silver Manolo Blahnik’s with open toe and jeweled bows. With nearly four inch heels they came pretty close to Ella’ shoes. “Ewwww, I’m gonna look hot. The hell with the Prince, I want to do the Princes sister.” Lady T slapped her daughter, “You better get that lesbian shit out of your head right now. That’s for little trampy cunts like Ella! Get to church tomorrow and pray away the gay!” At first Anna objected, “But Mommy dearest,” then thinking the better of it just said, “You’re right Mommy, I’ll go to church.” But the telling glance she gave Ella let them all know that church or no church no gay was gonna
be getting prayed away . She is what she is.

Still believing her Dad would one day return it surprised Ella when Lady T showed off her newly bought wardrobe as well. Lady T held up a sexy black appliqué cocktail ball dress that would reveal almost all of her legs leaving very little to the imagination. Spaghetti straps would allow most of her smooth skinned back and breast to show freely and the sheer full length see through lace bottom made it one of the sexiest dresses Ella had ever seen. But the killer was when she pulled out a pair of shoes from the shoebox. Coal black Ostrich teazers with six inch spike heels with zipper up and straps to criss cross up her calves. Ella was stunned, shoes that rivaled her very own hump me pumps. Sinner Ella hid the tears that were sneaking down her cheeks and left to her room as Lady T bragged, “You ladies may have youth on your side but I’m gonna fuck that Prince’s brains and wallet right into the castle with this number. I’ll have that young stud screaming my name from between my thighs begging for more. I’ll show you how to bring the sexy girls, just you watch your cougar Mom tie a leash around his royal shlong! Get ready for a new Daddy girls, Mama T is brining sexy back!”

Tune in next week for the exciting conclusion of Sinner Ella

Fly On The Whitehouse Wall

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afly

II.. Be Afraid, Be Very Afraid

The short lifespan of a fly doesn’t have all that much in the way of excitement. Oh sure if we find some dead body its like an all you can eat buffet for the entire family but there’s nothing exciting about being a fly. We have very little needs, we like to eat, puke, and eat again, then rub our hands together and head out to look for something gourmet, like a still warm pile of dog shit. And this human has three dogs so I decided it would be cool sticking around here. Of course as long as I’m not sticking on some murderous fly paper. Bastard humans make those sticky tapes smell just like lady fly fluids and I’ve witnessed many a friend thinking he was gonna do some mid-air muff diving only to find himself trapped dangling in a gluey mess. But I don’t want to bore you with the details of the danger of life as a fly, I want you to hear some real interesting conversations I was privy to here on the wall in the Whitehouse during the days of what humans call the Watergate scandal. From my original vantage point of 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. C’mon, I’ll walk you through it.
Seems after The Pentagon Papers were released to the press this Nixon guys popularity ratings were tanking and it wasn’t going to be easy to get him re-elected. That’s when Howard Hunt came in the office and if talking shit alone was a meal I would have had a smorgasbord. I’m still on the wall here in the oval office along with G. Gordon, Tricky Dicky, Howard Hunt, John Ehrlichman, HR Halderman, John Dean, and John Mitchell. There seems to be a lot of tension in the air because Hunt had just offered up a plan to break in to the same hotel I was in just last night to spy on some democrats or something. “Listen Dick,” pleads George, “Howard’s right. Larry Obrien, the chair of the DMC booked a room at the Watergate Motel. My sources tell me he has credible evidence of some bullshit connection with You Mr. President, and Howard Hughes” Nixon shuffled and tried to interrupt but Liddy held him off, “Please Mr. President don’t say a word. Not a single one of us believe you did anything wrong but my source claims he has convincing looking forgeries implicating you and Hughes. Obrien was heard saying he’s gonna use them to bring you down. Not gonna happen! My team is going to liberate those phony papers and destroy them. Then we bug his room. We all know how Obrien loves to chat with his commie pals and I’m certain we can find evidence that the democrats received funds from Cuba.” Tricky Dick isn’t fully convinced and turns to Howard, G. Gordon Liddy’s co-commander. “What the hell kind of proof do we have that those liberal shits are getting some dough from Castro?” Howard was prepared, “Mr. President, I have reliable sources that tell me LBJ and Castro have been involved in private talks dating back before the whole Kennedy thing. Maybe even has something to do with Killing John, who knows. What we do know is the dems are getting a lot of cah from somewhere and we can all guess where. My sources tell me they have confirmed communication between members of the Democratic National Committee and Cuba so maybe we can get a confession or find a paper trail between Castro and the democrats, there’s no doubt they’re in cahoots . We’ll sink those liberal chumps. Those bleeding heart socialists love Castro and don’t have a clue how dangerous he is Its not only in your best interests Mr. President but the best interest of our entire country. Of our constitution!” From my vantage point on the wall I could see a satisfied smirk on most of their faces. Dick began pacing, “Mother fuckers are gonna ruin our nation Howard, no doubt about that. Let me think about this. We have to make sure no laws are broken, I don’t want any implication to anything like that. In the meantime what about you Bob? What’ve you got on that hippie insect John Lennon? How soon can we get him and that oval eyed bitch of his kicked out of the country?” HR “Bob” Halderman stepped forward, “Dick this isn’t gonna be easy, this is a tough one. He’s got a lot of support from a lot of people and the press loves him. I’m not sure taking him on is in our best interests right now. So far we don’t have concrete proof of any illegal activity. Remember what happened with Liddy and Timothy Leary?” Georgie boy shot back obviously pissed, “Fuck you Halderman that wasn’t my fault you piece of shit, it was the fucking judge. But hey, if you can’t fucking get rid of John Lennon then maybe I should have a go at him my way! I‘ll make sure to use concrete!” Shit was heating up and there’s nothing a fly loves more than piles of heated up shit.
At that point all the men began yelling at each other about all sorts of things and I couldn’t really hear much until John Dean loudly took control, “Okay everyone that’s enough, calm the fuck down this is getting us nowhere. Lets just concentrate on this Watergate thing.” The room got silent and the leader of the free world weighed in, “John’s right fella’s, lets get back to getting me re-elected then I’ll go after that prick peacenik Lennon. I’ll put Kissinger on that, Henry loves the goddamn publicity anyway. That piece of shit hippie Lennon really pisses me off though! Who the Hell does he think he is coming here from England and telling me how to run my country. Anyone tell that hairbag that we kicked the shit out of his piss ant country and then had to save they’re asses from Hitler. Fuck him and his God save the queen bullshit. Henry will send that peacenik prick back to England. Now what’d you have in mind for the liberal dems? We can’t afford to let Mondale, Humphrey, or Teddy Kennedy get in here and destroy the country. I have enough crap on Ted if he makes a run we‘ll bury his ass at Chappaquiddick. That idiot Eagleton’s gone already and I’ll take the rest of those commie socialists down too. Liddy here assures me plausible deniability, but I’m telling all of you right now, this meeting never happened. I will deny any and all of you here. Remember if we don’t hang together each of you will surely hang separately. Any one of you sonsa bitches caught are on your own, because I never approved anything and this never happened. Now I’m gonna leave the office for a few minutes in case anyone needs to talk about plans. That way I don’t hear or know nothing. Just remember, Richard Nixon does not break any laws.” Let me tell you this fly was pretty impressed. That Nixon guy was one slick human. He left the office and none of the other balooka’s could hear but with my intense fly senses I could hear the tape machine in his drawer still recoding.
Lidddy was the first to speak. “Howard and I assembled a team, they’re broking into Ellsburgs doctors office tonight to get his files. We’ll bury that bastard, but in the meantime we gotta keep Dick in office or none of this shit will matter. The same team that robbed the docs office are gonna break into the Watergate Hotel grab the bogus papers tying the president to Howard Hughes and plant a bug in O’Brien’s room. Then we’ll know everything the democrats are up too.” Hunt stood up and took over, “Look you guys, this is how its gonna be. Anyone, and I mean anyone gets caught at anything its deny, deny, deny! None of us wants to go to jail, we’re all in this together. But at the same time we’re acting alone and any criminal activity will be on you and only you. I didn’t say don’t, I said your on your own, we have to do what’s necessary for the country, that’s our duty. Everything we do here is for America now. Can you imagine what would happen if any of those fucking idiots got control of our Whitehouse? So lets agree right now to work together and do whatever we have to do to get this shit done.” Great Bundle Fly that man was convincing, if they do lose he has a future as a motivational speaker. I think I would have flown head first into a bug zapper if he convinced me it was for the benefit of the entire fly kingdom. And it was obvious the rest agreed because they all began happily planning and asking what they could do to help. Two things at this point, first, I was wrong about the dogshit and getting tired of donut crumbs, and this was really getting interesting so I left my post on the wall and nestled into Georges suit jacket for a change of venue and a new food court to check out. When we left I could still hear the tape recorder running.

Arch Of knowledge

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books

I recently baked an array of cupcakes for a wedding, in which one of the husbands to be is a writer and the other an avid reader. The mother of one of the lucky couple built this arch for them for their ceremony made out of books from the family bookcase, something that if done many years from now may well be an arch made from kindles and Nooks. But it’s a marvelous statement on reading and writing and hopefully will serve as an inspiration for authors to continue their quests to reach out and express. I love this arch because like our lives, it more stories than the Empire State Building. I truly hope their stories for the future are filled with happiness and wonder. Reading is FUNdamental Write on!!!!!

Asking Fellow Writers For Help

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help

Fellow bloggers and writers I am requesting your input and advice. It has taken me many years to work up the courage to really share my ramblings and musings but I have reached a point where I want to reach out and share my twisted view of life through storytelling. I am ready to attempt to publish some short stories in either in magazines or on e-readers or any other medium but have no clue where to even begin. Writing has always been more of a hobby for me shared with only close friends, and growing up prior to the information explosion I have limited mastery of electronics and cyber worlds. I am asking anyone willing to check out this excerpt below and offer any serious and honest critiquing and any assistance on how I may go about publishing some work. Either way thank you and keep on writing….PEACE

COSMO AND THE GARDEN EARTH
(A guide to cosmic gardening)

PART 1. NOT JUST DUST IN THE WIND

In the beginning there was a vast empty space with atoms flying around in chaos everywhere when suddenly two overly aggressive atoms collided and caused a huge explosion. Out of this explosion came a vast network of stars and debris spinning in an ever-expanding vortex we call the universe. The Big Bang, the singularity, the beginning. Right! First vast empty space then all of a sudden a Universe so huge it has no end. Wait, even better, first there was nothing and then the one and only god created shit to keep him busy. A massive universe with one teeny little speck where he created human beings to be just like him. Now that’s even funnier! As a matter of fact both of these theories are a source of great humor and hilarity and the butt of many jokes at The Board of Co-operative Gods and Goddesses in District seven. At a cosmic cocktail party you will hear no less than one hundred jokes about various theories of how life came to be, but the Earth stories are by far the most popular. The “monkey trials” keep the gods laughing for hours on end at inter-galactic get togethers. There is not a god worth his sodium that hasn’t heard of Darwin, Moses, Mohamed, Elijah. Or the Talmud, Koran, The Bible or even The Upanishads. Stories of a pure evil horned devil with blood dripping from its hands and fear bolts being shot from its eyes keep them rolling in the anti-matter with tears of laughter. Satan, Lucifer, Serpent of Evil, all such knee slapping names. Oh yes, the earthlings grown by Cosmo are a source of great amusement to all the gods. All the gods? Am I saying there really are many gods? Does a pope defecate in the woods? Is a Polar Bear catholic? Can white bears jump? Of course there are many gods, and many galaxies supporting forms of life. Did you really think you were the only living beings in the entire universe? Jeez, and I thought Wookies were dumb. Well sit back you Vader naysayer and let me tell you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Well maybe a fabrication or two along the way because YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH!
In the beginning there were many gods and goddesses with varying responsibilities an each god had a particular purpose.Some Gods to make the planets spin, some to make and enforce laws such as gravity, gods to create properties of physics, gods to ponder deeply the laws and needs of the universe’s to determine how they should be applied. These were the most intelligent gods and they held court to make decisions about everything. It is still known today as The Board of Co-operative Gods and Goddesses. (BOCGG) They made the decisions that effected the farmer gods who were expected to grow and experiment with the various galaxies across the universe. Each galaxy was tended to by its own god. There was great and clever Simon in the Tolkien Galaxy, Mychrighton in the Andromeda Strain Galaxy, The red haired beauty Lucille who watched over the Bobaloo Galaxy, Luke-ass who presided over The infamous Jedi Galaxy that was far far away, and so on. Here in our Milky Way galaxy, the farmer was and is the god Cosmo. Such a good farmer is Cosmo that they named the entirety of space after him. The vast space of the universe came to be known as “The Cosmos”. Travel was known as Cosmic travel, knowledge as cosmic knowledge and any left out odds and ends in space became known as Cosmic debris. I’m not jiving you bout that Cosmic debris! Cosmo is indeed an accomplished cosmic gardener, in fact he is somewhat of a legend among the other gods. In Solar system 728KJ he had cultivated eight grooving spinning garden orbs called planets. From the tiny and excruciatingly hot mercury, to the equally tiny but totally frozen Neptune he held them together with a tight asteroid belt and tended to all eight magnificently. He had the giant Jupiter (which for some reason has red eye in all the family photo’s), he put some cool looking bangle bracelets around the lovely and mysterious Saturn, and named two of the planets after his own Mom and Dad. The entire universe was touched at the naming of Venus and Mars. Yes Cosmo had really taken pride in that particular solar system. But his pride and joy and claim to fame is most assuredly for his work done on one particular planet, known throughout cosmos as garden earth. Garden earth is a rather insignificant looking planet in solar system 728KJ. It is the third planet from Sun 728, and has the benefit of the perfect amount of sunshine. Earth also has a considerable amount of water on it which is the other essential ingredient in growing things. Sun and Water in abundance makes for a smashing garden. Cosmo wants to make planet earth, in solar system 728KJ the most prolific and successful garden in all the universe. With a vast ocean to create clouds which would in turn drop water back into the garden a system of synergetic energy is created. Cosmic irrigation! Garden earth is a thriving ever-growing populace world. A wide variety of vegetation and many roaming creatures inhabit this garden. But what you see on garden earth today is not how it was at the beginning so put on your asteroid seat belt as we travel back in time to see how this all came to be The Planet Earth.
Catastrophic is the best way to describe his first attempt. Maybe he was not mature enough or maybe he just rushed it, but either way it’s a story that is told and retold as far away as Gabor40904 which is about eight billion gamma light years away. To you that would be a mere two point five septillion miles give or take. At any rate here is what happened in Cosmo’s first attempt. When a god reaches a certain age he or she is given a Galactic Farming Starter Kit. In the starter kit comes a package of sea monkeys which gods use to populate in any gathering of H2O. These sea monkeys would eventually grow into all sorts of different weird looking creatures. Some even had 8 legs! But, that’s way in the future as evolution thrives underwater. The problem was that no one could see the assortment of single cell creatures swimming beneath the surface of the Sea of Earth. Cosmo wanted more on his special planet. He wanted some things that he could watch and toy with and keep as pets. So with the BOCGG approval Cosmo sent away for the “Advanced” farmer kit which comes with both vegetative seeds and life seeds capable of growing multi-organism land dwelling entities.
Cosmo surveyed his round global garden and noticed a huge land mass which he had named Pangea after his sister Pangela. It was enormous but completely unadorned and surrounded in its entirety by water. Cosmo’s first brilliant concept was born. Large edible vegetation. He developed gargantuan trees and tall full shrubs which would absorb energy from the sun and convert it into oxygen. Now he could create some creatures and they would have food and be able to breath. Brilliance had come to Cosmo in a dream. He was being chased by a creature with a long neck and large mouth with sharp teeth. This would be his first creature. What should he name this creature? Jar Jar Brinks? No, that’s stupid. He thought out loud. “Lets see, the creature was chasing me and my buddy Steggo and when it got near it bit Steggo’s ass. Steggo yelled out damn man, now my ass is sore and.” He stopped in mid sentence. “That’s it! I’ll call him sore ass! No, not sore ass, Steggo’s sore ass. To avoid any divine libel law suits it was suggested he make it one word. It sounded smart and sophisticated as stegosaurus so he went with that. Now for some other creatures for stegosaurus to play with.
So Cosmo created an assortment of giant creatures. Long necks, smaller faster creatures, a few with wings, and one really scary one. He made up weird names for them like Stegosaurus, brontosaurus, Pterodactyl (He also invented the silent letter which would cause all sorts of shit in years to come), and his personal favorite, the frightening one, Tyrannosaurus Rex. For weeks the great god Cosmo played with his new dinosaurs. He started to get a little worried when he saw them chewing on the tops of all his beautiful vegetation, but realized that they needed to eat something. My creator almighty they have appetites bigger than their damn bodies. Seems the more they ate the more they expelled from there butts. Some of it a horrible almost violent smelling gas which was a bit of an embarrassment to Cosmo when other gods came to view his garden. But the solid stuff actually deteriorated and made the trees and shrubs grow even better. It seemed like a perfect system. Everything depended on everything else to survive. The sun gave everything energy and sucked up water to make clouds, the clouds returned water to cool things off in the garden and help grow the vegetation. The vegetation gave air and food for the creatures , and the creatures pooped out food to feed the vegetation. A cycle was created which Cosmo referred to as “The cycle of life.” A theme that would forever define his garden no matter what thrived in the garden beds.

The Nutcracker Not So Sweet

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beach

Life’s A Beach

Another typical Friday night in Huntington Village where things have been hopping all night. Bar hopping that is, one of our favorite sports back in 73. From Canterbury Ales to Chelsea Square Pub to Sportmans pub in the bowling alley. I think we hit just about every bar, even the “old man” bars and it was no longer Friday night, but early Saturday morning. What better way to finish all the revelry than by walking into straight into the Lions Cage. The one on New York Avenue that is where they make the best Harvey Wallbangers in town and may offer our last shot at “scoring“. Truth is I knew I wouldn’t be picking up anything but my tab and I was feeling pretty buzzed. Missed opportunities aside we were on a roll anyway when we heard that all too familiar phrase which effectively stalled our rambling conversations. “Last call for alcohol!”
“Damn, last call already?” It was the same thing Shadow said every time we heard that “time to get your ass home” two minute warning but tonight, I mean this morning, Shadow was seriously not ready to call it quits. “Guys, lets grab a bite at Colonial Diner then pick up a few brewski’s and head out to The Hampton’s.” The five of us looked at each other and knew in an instant what a bad idea that was. “I’m game.” “Me too, I’ll go”. Okay, maybe not all of us because so far Shadow, Mario, and T-Bone were ready to go for it and it was up to me and Willie to avoid the poor decision. “Far out let’s go. You in JT?” My lone voice of reason was all that was standing between five idiots driving out to The Hampton’s and making the rational decision to go home and avoid what would more than likely be a huge mistake. “Hell yea I’m in man, lets go for it.” Holy shit was that me that said that?
To late the bad judgment call was made so we ate, stopped off at 7/11 to fill up our cooler, swung by our homes to sneak out our bathing trunks and a towel, and headed for a weekend in The Hampton’s. Mario was behind the wheel of my car because he was a good driver an the least impaired. Actually that’s why we called him Mario, after Mario Andretti the racing car driver. Mario hung those curves like a damn surgeon even when he was, lets just call it impaired. Once we breezed past the Walt Whitman Mall I knew there was no turning back. Of course knowing better now we would have never even considered such a ride but back in those days bad decisions were all the rage.
We had a half baked plan to head out towards The Hampton Bays and find a discrete place to park so we could sneak off into the dunes to have a quick nightcap and grab a snooze. In the morning we would scour the beach for a party because The Hamptons was one big ass party on the beach. Each of us had a favorite place to go at night and sometime to night we would be on our mission to hit them all. Mario was a big fan of The Cave, probably for the ladies dancing in the cages. Willie loved the Barge which wa boring and made no sense to me but to each his own and of course Shadow was all about alcohol so we had to go to OBI East for the “Long Island Iced Tea’s.” T-Bone met this killer hot chick at The Mad Hatter last summer so he wants to go there hoping he’ll find her again. Me? My favorite place was Cat Ballou with the deck out back but to be honest The Mad Hatter was a close second. It was wall to wall bikinis in that place. We would try and hit them all in the hopes of seeing The Good Rats or Otter Creek. Both bands play the Hampton’s a lot so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities. Truth told the real reason any of us go there is for love and maybe a little sex. Okay mostly in the hope of sex but we were strapping young boys.
We cruised own the highway with Jim Cameron of WLIR radio promising some Santana and Canned Heat coming up next. “Hey man, crank it up when Canned heat comes on bro” I sat shotgun because it was my friggen car, and I would be more than happy to honor Willies request. “You got it Willie boy” Then I added a chorus of “Little Willie Willie wont,….go home” just cuz it pissed him off. I looke over at Mario who seemed almost sober as he got us to Sunrise Highway staring intensely ahead. The great thing about the overnight trip is so little traffic.Of course going home would be different, 495 would be on the Sunday evening Hampton evacuation crawl as so many tired and sun burnt people left weekend paradise to return back to their nine to five worlds in shades of mediocrity. Be we were almost there as the signs for East Quahog and The Hampton Bays faded behind us. Time to go local and find a place to stash the car.
It took about another twenty minutes but we finally found and old gas station, a run down Esso where Mario parked the car in the back among a bunch of other cars most of which were in even worse shape than my half dilapidated Simca. Willie was our resident analytic so he would have the street names committed to memory as we headed out with cooler in tow. We quietly negotiated the residential roads to find our sandy sanctuary while the beautiful early morning sound of waves tickling the shoreline set a placid tone. Once secure in the dunes we each had one beer then slipped off to sleep all snug in our sandy beds while visions of bikini clad ladies danced in our heads.
It was a beautiful Long Island summer morning and the sun had shaken off the last of the evenings darkness. I woke up hearing the commotion of people migrating towards the shore in search of their perfect spot to set up their blankets and chairs. But something else brought me rapidly alert. Something, or more accurately a bunch of something’s were biting my legs, arms and face. Horseflies! Holy shit there must have been a thousand of those bloodsucking flesh ripping winged pests nipping at my body with their murderous mandibles. I began a very spastic interpretive dance designed to quickly rid me of the parasitic miniature beasts. The boys also woke up to the annoying flies the size of bats. Okay, baby bats, but the suckers were big. And mean! I had brought a towel which had now become a weapon, Willie had tears in his eyes as he cried “Ow ow, ow.” I looked at Shadow’s interpretive dance just realizing how graceful he could be but when I saw T-Bone I nearly fainted. His bathing suit was a bit tight and was showing way too much for my virginal eyes. I pointed to his crotch and said, “T-Bone, either put that thing away or cover it up” T-Bone stared at me through groggy all night drinking confused eyes. Once he saw my finger he followed the trajectory to the image I was attempting to wash away and let out a blood curdling scream. He reached his down into his shorts and yanked out a live squirming snake which he sent airborne.
Instinctively the four of us grabbed our crotches and immediately began inspecting our trunks for any unwanted creepy crawlers. The wonderful sound of the Atlantic ocean waves crashing on the shore became overshadowed by loud giggles and some out and out laughter. I looked over still confused to the beach which was filled with those bikini clad images all pointing and laughing at five boys peppered with horsefly bites and each openly ravaging his own crotch. The blood shot up to my face accentuating the fly bites and coloring so deep red my embarrassment couldn’t possibly be mistaken for sunburn.
We enjoyed our day at the beach, some Frisbee and swimming, but it was hard to get past all the pointing and smiling as the story of the five clowns from Huntington circulated no doubt getting embellished at each retelling. Each of us had lost our dignity but we were in The Hamptons so who really cares. We did go out to some of the clubs, No Good Rats or Otter Creek, none of us scored but we all five had a great time anyway. At one point I was involved in a nice conversation with a gorgeous redhaired foxy babe and it was going pretty well until a friend of hers whispered in her ear and she politely told me she had to leave.
Oh well there always next time and next time we’ll be a lot wiser. Not smarter, more Budweiser because we are perfectionists o we keep repeating our mistakes until we get them perfect. None of us drink and drive now and if the weekend taught us anything its to be careful where you sleep and how you wake up because humiliation seldom results in sex. That there is much truth to the proverb you don’t get a second chance to make a first impression. Next time We’ll be prepared.

Searching For Uncle Goatleg

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A Goat Bt Any Other Name
My first brush with the law, and my Dad has to come pick me up . Funny thing is my old man looks more like a criminal than I do. I’m being raised by a hippie tree hugging father and a step Mom who’s not quite so liberal. Dad used to ride Harleys, smoke pot, and was as he puts it, “a bit of a rouge” Tonight my rebel Dad comes to pick me up from the cop station in a beat up VW. Plus I have a feeling he was no stranger to cop stations back in his day.
Once we were out of the precinct parking lot he asked me in his calm voice what happened. I explained it all, how we were smoking a joint before the dance at the High school and the cops came running over. Not finding anything they searched us all and I was holding rolling papers so they took me to the precinct for possessing drug paraphernalia on school property. Straight away he gave me the like it or not its still illegal lecture, and the not ever on or near school property thing. We drove in silence after the lecture for two minutes until he said, “Paraphernalia? Rolling papers? Are they fucking kidding? “ The two of us laughed and my old man ran off some of his 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 he says he doesn’t smoke but I have my suspicions, every once in a while I feel like my stash is light a few bowls. Either way my old man wasn’t a big fan of cops busting kids for having fun.
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 your step Mom will think that’s important but I mean fucking A, rolling papers is a fucking crime now? Look I get it Ian, 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 wrangle 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 am 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, I know this was a stupid thing I did. 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. I remember you were always 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 you and him having motorcycles and giving me and Molly rides wearing football helmets. What was his real name and what was he like?” I could see a huge smile on my dads face as he reminisced. Uncle Goatleg was as tall as my dad, and just as muscular. Maybe even a little more. He had very thick curly reddish brown hair that danced over his shoulders. My dad always had a short beard, but Goatlegs chinstrap was quite 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. Around the cane was carved the most magnificent black and yellow cobra snake with the head right at the handle 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 Goatleg I admired him greatly and wished he had come around more often.
“Oh wow, uncle Goatleg. I’m surprised you remember him. His biker name was Redbeard but his real name was Kevin. 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 a toy truck. 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 and we both making cricket noises and acted the fools. Became best friends instantly an learned we only lived three blocks away. 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 Goatleg 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. Right now I’m gonna tell you about your Uncle Goatleg. Actually you gave him that name.” I perked up instantly. “Me?? How did I do that?” Dad took a long swig of his beer, “One time he came over 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 Goatleg, that’s my name. I’m your Uncle Goatleg.’ Every time he came over we called him Uncle Goatleg. You and your sister are the only two people in the world he’s let call him that. He got a real kick out of that. Anyway, as I was saying, Kevin and I rode bikes together for a while but he was much more serious about biking and eventually took to hanging out at bars that outlaw bikers went to. The Heathens Motorcycle Club which is the second biggest MC group on the east coast. The main rivals of The hells Angels. Eventually Kevin was asked to become a member and he jumped at the chance. I went with him a few times to the Heathens bar and it was very scary. They got into fights over things like ’you breathed on me‘, or ‘you looked at my beer.’ Dangerous crowd they were very violent. Being an outsider I was a target so I told him I couldn’t come around anymore. He understood but that was the life he wanted and he lived it. We saw less and less of each other, Goatleg always with his MC gang. I had to sell my bike and wasn’t interested in hanging out with The Heathens. I’m a lover not a fighter. I would read stories in the papers of major brawls between them and rival clubs and he would stop by from time to time and give me the inside scoop. Then one night in 86 or so, he stops by the restaurant I was working at and tells me he has a huge problem and needs help. He has to get out of town and disappear forever. I was stunned and we went outside to talk. He lifted up his leather jacket and shirt to show me his right side. It was one giant black, blue, and red bruise and I was like holy shit Kev, what the Hell; happened? Well in typical Kevin style, he made the big mistake of banging one of the other bikers mama’s. But not just any bikers babe, he nailed the mama of the president of his chapter. He was beaten by near everyone in the club with fists and pool sticks and thrown out of the bar. Everyone took shots at him except the president. Seems he wants Kevin either dead or really suffering and was gonna take care of business himself. So Kev was a marked man. After work I went to an ATM, took out as much cash as I could and made him promise to let me know where he is. He said ‘can’t do that bro, it will put you in danger. And your kids. Can’t do that to Ian and Molly.’ These fuckers mean business and they’ll fuck over anyone what knows me. Just gotta split man, that’s all.’ They won’t rest until they kill him so he left and went underground. I moved shortly after that and neither of us has any idea where the other ended up. I think about him all the time.”
I gotta tell ya, I was pretty blown away. As I absorbed the story I had one last question, “so you have no idea where he went? Not even a clue? Or a name he might use? You know we can find out a lot of shit on the internet, maybe we could do a search?” (So maybe it was more than one question, that’s my nature) Pops smiled at me, “Sometimes Ian, things are left behind because they are supposed to stay in the past. As much as I miss Kevin I am not sure finding him would be the best thing for him.” I was taken aback. “Him? What about you Dad? Don’t you think you deserve at least a thanks? Or a hello? A postcard, or I don’t know,….something!?” I hated when he seemed like King fucking Solomon but he gave me his Zen smile and in his voice of reason explained. “Any contact could put us all in danger Ian. My brother needed my help and needed it without question or condition. Maybe its forgotten and maybe not, but when you love someone there are times when you must sacrifice your own personal feelings for the good of the one you love. And I love your Uncle Goatleg, we’re blood brothers forever, we pinky swore in blood and everything. Forever connected even if its in memory only. I know how much he appreciated what I did for him and he would have done the same for me in a heartbeat. The truth is I have heard bits and pieces of Kevin’s life but over the years I’ve learned that sometimes things from the past should just stay there. Life isn’t always easy son.” That wasn’t good enough for me, “What exactly have you heard about Uncle Goatleg?” Dad shook his head in mock frustration, “ I hear tell he headed down to Florida and is living a happy quiet life somewhere near a town called Palm Coast. I hope he is and I hope he‘s happy and we should just leave it at that.”
The wheels began spinning in my brain. My best friend Eugene has an aunt who lives in Flagler Beach, which as it turns out is only about ten miles from Palm Coast. I was graduating high school in June, and me and Huge were going on a short one month vacation somewhere. We weren’t sure where we wanted to go but we knew we needed to get away. Now I knew exactly where we would spend our vacation. Flagler Beach and Palm Coast here we come!

Samsung And Da-Liar pt2..(A Sick Bastards Bible Selection)

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Samson_Jawbone

A Lion In The Streets But A Wildcat In The Sheets

As a young adult Samsung was the strongest, smartest, and to hear the fair maidens tell it the most well hung man in town. He was being raised by Raven who harbored vengeance in her heart and did her best to fill Samsungs up with anger as well. It wasn’t enough that the ugly and smelly Philly-Steens imprisoned them but one of the church leaders, Mike Duggle-Ass often had Raven brought to his quarters against her will where he performed a variety of sex acts with her. He made her exchange oral pleasures over and over for hours at a time. Her only solace is in knowing she had given him throat cancer.
So it was much more than mere anger it quite literally went much deeper than that. Raven had Samsung trained with a Hattori Hanzo sword, sent him to Crouching Tiger Shulman’s Hidden Dragon Ninja Academy, and study Patton’s Home Correspondence Battle Training Course in his spare time. Raven had fashioned a skilled and very adept lean mean killing machine. His only weakness was being a man easily manipulated by his third leg.
Samsung was also very intelligent and graduated magma cum loudly of Canaanite U, majoring in telecommunications. (which at that time was the donkey express) He knew he would one day find a better solution to information gathering but first and foremost he must set out to avenge his people. He set out on his ass (The donkey) to find a way to free the Israelites, who have a predestined love of all things free. While traveling he met a Philly-Steen hottie named Semedar walking with her younger sister Da-Liar. After a fair amount of flirting with both ladies he got off his ass and gave Semedar his most charming eye flirt and said, “I think I’ll invent a new alphabet so I can put U and I together.” Obviously just as smitten the sultry Semedar smiled seductively, gently traced her finger down his chest barely brushing her hand across his groin and answered, “Why don’t you just put the U in Me instead.” She parted her thick lips ever so suggestively and allowed her pink moist tongue to reveal her intention.
Sparks flew. No literally, I mean real sparks were coming from Samsungs cellular region as it rose to the occasion instantly. His LAN was on fire and Semedar was the server of choice. His sexual wiring was shorting out sending messages everywhere. The sultry and very horny Semedar gave her sister Da-Liar ten bucks and sent her off to town so the two hopeful lovers could allow the sparks to bring each other to a satisfying conclusion.
The two lovers found a perfect spot in the forest and went at it with all the energy his mother and biological father had on that fateful night on which he was conceived. The huffed and puffed and puffed and huffed and each brought new and exciting techniques to the sensual explosion. When they were finished the ridiculously satisfied Samsung couldn’t stop singing her praises and asked her right there on the G spot if she would marry him. Nary a second of hesitation wasted the beautiful Semedar still feeling the warm blood flow everywhere accepted his vow of love and sealed it with a slurp. The two became engaged and made love once more to celebrate. Now the hard part, time to tell both families about the unity of an Israelite and a Philly-Steen.
Raven and Manoah were extremely unhappy with the news and Raven warned Samsung that consorting with the Philly-Steens would bring him only heartache an displeasure. Pleasure was the reason Samsung had become betrothed to begin with so he cleverly convinced her it was part of the higher powers plan for him to marry the sexy Philly-Steen. He announced that his intentions were as stiff as his……never mind, his intention was solid. Being a Nazirite he felt compelled to ask Semedar’s father for her hand in marriage and he set off to do just that.
He jumped on his ass (donkey again) and headed out as fast as the stubborn burro would bounce. Two hours and two days later the ass lazily limped to a clearing just outside of Boldface, the town of his sultry fiancé. There he would practice what he would say when he met Semedars father Bob Barian. Bob Barian was actually Semedars step father who was a warped, frustrated old man. He lost the sight of his right eye during a battle with the Huns when Attila himself reached into Bob Barians eye socket, yanked out his eyeball threw it at Bobs feet saying “You see where you stand?“ before laughing and squishing it into the ground. Not a single one of his slaves lifted a hand to help him and many even snickered and made Cyclops jokes. He became a more ruthless and vindictive slave-owner after that and he was all too aware that a stinking Israelite was on the way to ask for his daughters hand thanks to a heads up from his daughter Da-Liar. Bob Barian was even less enthusiastic about the union than Raven was. In an attempt to avoid having the entire race of Philly-Steens making him the laughing stock of the Fertile Crescent for being a slaves father in law he bought a lion from the Coliseum of Rome to slay the hapless Hebrew. He got a good rate on an aging lion that had killed over 50 Christians which had acquired quite a reputation. It was said the old but fierce feline had not a sliver of fear or humility. In fact the carnivorous cat had swallowed his pride, each and every member. He turned the bloodthirsty lion loose in the path where Samsung would surely be and assumed that would be the last he would hear of the Israelite again..
Samsung rested in the clearing because his ass was sore.(the donkey again) It was tired from all the walking and in pain so they stopped to give his asses a rest. His thoughts wandered to the sexually charged encounter he and Semedar had and the ones they would have in the future and the only thing on his mind now was copulation. His hand involuntarily began a soothing feel good massage as he day dreamed about his carnal desires when a strange noise broke his concentration. First he heard the gentle rustling of leaves but it was followed quickly by a loud ferocious roar. He remove his hand from his loincloth in alarm. A lion attack? Holy shit! His first inclination was to get his ass outta there (this time his!) There wasn’t enough time because old as the lion was it still had a lot of zip in its hip and came charging at Samsung with killing in it’s eyes and heart. Samsung having to react quickly grabbed his ass by its jawbone (you figure it out) and ripped it clean off its head. He then took that old jawbone and cracked it across the head of the charging cat killing it in one swift chop. The adrenalin rush from the fear compounded from his daily steroid shot was still raging and he tore the lion apart with his bare hands.
I wish you could have seen the face of Bob Barian go from smirking smile to frightened shock as he witnessed Samsung toss the gruesome shredded carcass at his feet. Eyes still wild and bugging out of his head Samsung looked Bobby Boy directly in his good eye and said, “I came here to ask you for your daughters hand in marriage but now with this lion carcass as a show of my worthiness I will insist we marry and our love will bond!” Shaken but not stirred the mean mister Barian agreed immediately. He would have agreed to just about anything at that point with Samsung staring at his good eye with wild rage and lions blood still dripping from his hands. There was little he could do the marriage was set. De-Liar had also witnessed the incident with a tingling in her slightly damp groin paying particular notice of how Sammy bulged as well. Instinctively she knew what his weakest link was, or at least she thought she did. To herself she mumbled, “One day Sammy boy, I will use that divine rod to coax you away from my bitch sister and you‘ll moisten only my lips. (your choice)
The wedding was epic. Israelites in formal chains on the grooms side, all the ostentatious Philly-Steens on the brides side. Senedar had 30 groomsmen who took care of her wardrobe and make up. Samsung decided to tease them thinking them to be stupid gay Philly-Steens. “If any among you can figure out my riddle, I shall give you a fine Italian suit in the color of your choice.” The groomsmen were all fashionista’s so of course were intrigued. Samsung had no intention of allowing them to figure out his riddle.” If two Roman chariots collided on the border of England and Persia in which country would survivors be buried?” The slow witted groomsmen scratched their heads and struggled for hours in moral and ethic debates and the legal ramifications of responsibility not a single one realizing the easy answer. Da-Liar knew the answer and told the groomsmen that survivors don’t get buried on the condition they tell him Semedar gave them the solution. Each one went to Samsung and answered his riddle demanding a tailored suit from Italy. Infuriated Samsung promised he would fulfill his obligation in a week. He asked them how they figured it out and as promised they told him Semedar had given them the answer. Samsung was crushed by the betrayal.
For the first time the sex between Samsung and Senedar was unsatisfying because only one of Sams heads was into it. He was clearly pre occupied but lied that he was only deciding where to get the 30 suits. His pain turned to anger over her revealing the answer to the groomsmen putting him in such a shitty position. Semedar was sexually frustrated and unsatisfied too so as soon as Samsung left to get the suits she snuck into the bedroom of her secret lovers. Yes that’s right, its not a typo this time, she had multiple lovers. She slept with four of her Philly-Steen neighbors getting attention from all four simultaneously. Da-Liar promised she would warn Semedar if her new husband came home so the fivesome went at it with unequalled enthusiasm. Reverse cowgirl, motor boating, jack hammering, the ninja vacuum, the bus ride, they even Sutra’d the Kama out of each other one chapter at a time. The moans and groans could be heard throughout the entire hall.

Totally unaware of his back stabbing brides infidelity Samsung set out to keep his promise. He decided to kill two birds with one stone so he went into town and found 30 well dressed Philly-Steens who he easily slaughtered then took their clothing. He went back to Semedars home three days earlier than expected with the dead men’s suits and dropped them off. He explained to he couldn’t get a plaid suit because dead men don’t wear plaid and none of the contributors wore pink suits. It was as if he were bragging about something. He dropped off all the suits, many of which still had blood stains on them. Then as he walked down the hall he saw Da-Liar who stopped him and whispered, “I love my sister but I can’t bear to see this happen to you. I’m sorry Samsung but she’s in the room at the end of the hall. That’s when he heard the familiar sounding moans. “Semedar?” Samsung broke into the bedroom finding his bride in what could only be described as the final scene from the popular porno flick “Romancing The Bone.” Four Philly-Steen men simultaneously pleasuring his wife in one place or another.(The ear thing was kinda creepy) He grabbed his sword and cut off all eight of the four men’s heads turning to Semedar, “I think I’ll be going back home now. I’ve murdered enough stinking Philly-Steens for one day.” He left her stunned in a room full of bloody body parts while Da-Liar secretly watched it all unfold with a smile.
Samsung went home to his Mom and Dad crying. Raven wanted badly to say “I told you so”, but opted to wait for another time. She made him a pot of chicken soup and enhanced it with more steroids than usual because “He looks like he hasn’t ha a roid in weeks” as she would put it. Things were not so hunky dory in Philly-Steen either. A warrant for Samsung was put out with a reward if taken alive. King Davey wanted to make a hard work slave of the murderous Israelite would be savior. He would employ any means necessary including using Da-Liar. He wanted Samsungs battery completely drained at any cost. Samsung had a price on his head.

Samsung and Da-Liar (A sick bastards bible selection)

On By Terrapin - The JourneyIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

s&d

Part 1

So the Israelites were really screwing up and the guy in charge was pissed. Not just casually pissed, but royally and unconditionally pissed off. The kind of pissed that goes way beyond the Thunderdome. Mad to the Max! Those ungrateful shits had to be punished so the apparition of an entity above decided they should become the slaves of the Steens of Philadelphia, better known as the Philly-Steens. The Philly-Steens were a formidable religious group who worshipped Baal and were enemies of Israelites They were ruled by King Davey Jones, a monarch that profited greatly through the use of slaves. The poor Israelites had no where to turn so they began to pray to the dude almighty who sat high above everyone. Or was that he sat above everyone while high? Whatev, they were desperate so they began to pray relentlessly.
“Please almighty authority figure, we know we fucked up big time but this king and his bitch are running us ragged and not giving us anything at all. The only feeding they do is to the lions like some damn Roman Emperor or something. We promise we will never again eat bacon and we will pray only to you the great and powerful wizard of God. You saved us once before and led us here and promised us freedom. Of course we walked and fought for years and years but when we finally got to the city of Jerum we were tired. One little fuck up and BAM, you enslave us to these Steens.” The big guy listened to this same thing day after day after day until he could take it no longer. “Okay, okay you relentless ungrateful bastards enough already. Yes you fucked up and I expect you to take your punishment like men. But noooo, you guys are always so damn whiny. Well I’m not gonna just set your asses free like that but here’s what I will do for you lazy ass mofo‘s. I will impregnate one of your ladies with a child who will grow up strong and single handedly not only destroy the Philly-Steens, but come up with a cell phone that will rival the forbidden Apple. This way I still get to watch you suffer for a while to ensure that next time I give you a command you follow it! Just please, please, please stop with your damn prayers every day, give it a rest once in a while.” With that the unseen ruler of all things ironically disappeared. Not totally stoked but happy to have something they took solace and went home to wait.
It didn’t take long at all. That is it didn’t take long for him to choose which maid he would fill to the brim with divine potent power sperm. It was in the suburb of Galaxy he went to fornicate himself up a child who would grow up to defeat the Philly-Steens and free his people once again. Wasn’t much of a surprise to anyone that he chose Manoah’s wife Raven as his sex partner and child begetter. As her name suggests Raven had dark inviting eyes and a beautiful flawless face surrounded by thick and luxurious onyx black hair. Without a hint of self consciousness she proudly wore low cut dresses giving more than a glimpse of her firm oversized breasts. These magnificent globes had eye magnets which drew every mans and most of the women’s eyes directly down to them. The large tantalizing breasts took to bouncing playfully and seductively all over town. It was rumored they could skip rope double dutch while drinking Dos Equis. They were real, and they were spectacular.
It took all the willpower this god had to keep from pre maturely spilling out his super-sperm over himself as he salaciously drooled over her erotic and exotic body. The long slit up her tight fitting dress revealed very sexy legs with perfectly formed calves ready for slaughter. Thighs smooth and svelte she had sensual legs that just wouldn’t quit. Her hips DID lie but everyone believed whatever they said. Manoah was the envy of every horny mammal within a hundred mile radius. The almighty spirit took Raven inside his lair and the two went at it all night long as Manoah moped in dejected silence. So seductive and skilled was she that the entire town could bear witness to Jehovah being heard screaming over and over, “Oh my fucking Raven!!” He had his rod and staff comforted in her loins thrice and left so much godsperm inside Ravens body remnants of the mighty swimming life-forces oozed out of every orifice they could find including a number of hair follicles. Some of the over zealous sperm cells even went airborne. There would be no doubt that Raven would be giving birth to a half human, half god child from this evening and they would name him Samsung.
Before leaving the satisfied Raven and the slightly pissed off Manoah the smiling Lord of Lumber instructed Raven to never consume alcohol again and if they wanted to be free they must promise to raise their son as a Nazirite. As a Nazirite he must follow a few simple rules. First, no alcohol, grapes, or vinegar, second never visit a grave or come in contact with a corpse, and lastly he was not allowed to cut his hair. In addition to these strange rules he had to follow a strict work out regimen and praise and obey the one and only true god. (Of which there were many to choose from).Manoah and Raven were to feed him a steady supply of protein drinks and steroids and were instructed to bring up the child with a regimen of intense exercise, combat training, and healthy eating habits. This handsome god/man would grow to be the strong and stealth warrior of the Israelites that was seduced and betrayed by a sexy Philly-Steen hussy. This then is where the legend known as Samsung of Galaxy and Da-Liar of Boldface begins.