tonight i had the pleasure of meeting ms the lady's girlfriend.
the door bell rings. as usual the idjits bark and carry on like fools.
fatman opens the door and leads a tall red headed lady into the foyer.
fatman: oscar, meet becky.
the fatman turns and yells to announce thatbecky has arrived. when he looks back at me his beady eyes bugg out of his fat skull.
fatman: why are you dressed like Prince?
and I am: purple silk from head to toe, white ruffles at the end of my sleeves. no pants.
me: enchanté
I kiss becky's hand and she giggles.
fatman: poor oscar. becky is only interested in a man if he has a big wallet.
shoot, fatman, i got the skills to pay the bills.
fatman: honey! oscar kissed becky's hand! she probably has ringworm!
me: (to him) you're a ringworm!
i turns my attention back to becky.
me: let me describe my david lee roth IRA. let me tell you 'bout my percents...
She giggles again.
Fatman wanders off, heads into the bafroom...
when he returns we be gone.
12 hours later.
a blackjack table.
monaco.
the famed monte crisco.
becky is at my side while i (wearing a tuxedo) eye the dealer.
me: always bet on black!
i toss a handful of euros at the dealer!
o- out!
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
a visit to the dentist
the fat man settles into the dentist's chair and opens wide. the stench from his breaf is almost as bad as my anus. DEEP IN MY ANUS.
i, wearing my scrubs, saunter in and check his blood pressure. then i place the dental dam over his mouth. the fatman looks down at me.
fatman: oscar? what the shit?!
that is when the 10 cc's of muscle relaxer kick in. his eye lids get heavy and he slumps in the chair.
i stroke his sweaty forehead.
me: shhh....shhhh...
the dentist walks in.
dentist: are we ready?
me: yeah, yeah, sure, you betcha!
the dentist fires up his drill. i whisper into the fatman's ear.
me: we have ways of making you talk, fatman...
the sound of the drill drowns the whimpers from the fatman.
later that evening.
the fatman finally wakes from his daze. he finds me sitting on his chest, wearing my bib and rubbing butter on his nose.
fatman: errghhh.
me: shhh...shhh...
the lady: OSCAR! STEP AWAY FROM MY HUSBAND!
Damn!
i grudgingly climb off the fatman's sternum. i cast a glance back and am not surprised to see drool drip from his bloody mouth.
the lady: you should be ashamed of yourself! don't you understand it'll never work out between us?
i grab my guitar, my top hat, my wig and i storm
out of the house.
time to play my solo!
O - out
i, wearing my scrubs, saunter in and check his blood pressure. then i place the dental dam over his mouth. the fatman looks down at me.
fatman: oscar? what the shit?!
that is when the 10 cc's of muscle relaxer kick in. his eye lids get heavy and he slumps in the chair.
i stroke his sweaty forehead.
me: shhh....shhhh...
the dentist walks in.
dentist: are we ready?
me: yeah, yeah, sure, you betcha!
the dentist fires up his drill. i whisper into the fatman's ear.
me: we have ways of making you talk, fatman...
the sound of the drill drowns the whimpers from the fatman.
later that evening.
the fatman finally wakes from his daze. he finds me sitting on his chest, wearing my bib and rubbing butter on his nose.
fatman: errghhh.
me: shhh...shhh...
the lady: OSCAR! STEP AWAY FROM MY HUSBAND!
Damn!
i grudgingly climb off the fatman's sternum. i cast a glance back and am not surprised to see drool drip from his bloody mouth.
the lady: you should be ashamed of yourself! don't you understand it'll never work out between us?
i grab my guitar, my top hat, my wig and i storm
out of the house.time to play my solo!
O - out
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