A handy tip for those of you who are remodeling your brain. Take one of those classes where they teach you how to sleep and eat correctly. I made the mistake of trying to do it with a book. I was too lazy to even open the cover. Everytime I had the chance to read or study, something more important always came up. I’d get a knock on the front door and the women’s field hockey team would queef my ears out. Or I’d get a package. And when I’d open it a phaser would rise out of the bottom and zap me and I’d be standing there frozen for a couple hours not able to move while the delivery man would steal my wallet and pillage my house. I’ve lost a shitload of good CDs that way. I actually lost my entire database of music. I had finally finished assimilating all my songs into the portable player and the whole collection was ripped by some assburger. A ton of my friends are now doing everyting in vapor space cause they don’t want that to happen to them. I wish I could. I think I’ll be stuck in the physical world for another couple years until I take that class I had talked about. But for now I’m pretty satisfied taking bong rips all night long while I lay in a sleeping bag on the couch.
ALLEN: Fuk Dan. If you’re gonna blaze my last nugget at least put some beef jerkey in there or something.
DAN: I didn’t touch your weed. I saw your cat blasting into it this morning though.
ALLEN: Did you actually see him do it?
DAN: Yeah your Mom and I saw him while we were eating breakfast. And it would be nice if you would call me Dad.
ALLEN:You’re not my dad. You’re just some drunk that’s cornholing my Mom.
I’m standing at the space station. Its very crowded. My Unkle Fukrod and I were gonna blast into space this morning but the launch computer had to be rebooted. So I’m just standing here totally bored. Theres a guy with three ears listening to an iPod. Someone near me stinks like weed. I look around to see who’s munching Chaco Tacos and everyone is just standing there frozen looking down the shuttle tracks. I’m gonna reach into my pant leg. I just did it. I reached down into my pant leg and pulled out a rock of DMT. If I can scrape a couple of nugs into the tip of my cigarette then the wait will go a lot faster. I just dropped a bunch of DMT on the ground. Some fiend will smell it and grab it soon enough. Alright. My cig is ready to destroy my brain.
A whistle went off and everyone turned over to the ticket counter. And then a hole opened in the ceiling. A band of space hookers was just lowered down on a platform. This is getting interesting. I sparked up my cig and now I can barely stand up. It’s getting hot. I’m starting to sweat. Is everybody else sweating? Am I the only one whose spine is shaking? Am I gyrating or am I standing straight? Everyones swaying just like me. A noise has started. Its like TV static. Except it’s a lot dirtier. I’m not feeling hot anymore. My stomach feels funny though. I might have to crap.
The weirdest thing just happened. I said I was going to crap. What happened was I was about to pull down my shorts and let it spray and when I did, everybody else did the same thing. And a tapeworm shot out of my ass and suddenly hundreds of tapeworms were blasting through the air. And the tapeworms stuck into an apple sitting on a chicken’s pet ape.
And now I’m back to normal. Just sitting at my computer writing .
Rork pulled out the partially smoked blunt and handed it over to Pargo. Pargo slipped it into his jacket pocket and said thanks. Pargo crouched down behind the dumpster and bonged it down in a Sobe bottle. He caughed and woke up Wino Jim. Wino Jim rolled out from under his newspapers and scraped the bowl into his crack pipe. He sprinkled some ]]]]]]]]]]]]> on the shavings and ripped a bow drill out of a hole in his head and whistled. A very small man jumped into his crackpipe and started a fire. Once the weed chips were roasting the very small man crawled over the rim of the pipe. He ran along Wino Jim’s arm and into his coat pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. He skipped home and told his normal size wife the good news. Wino season had started.
Larry, if I have to pick up that com unit and call your wife again you’re gonna be sorry. Either you power down that pile of weed or you pay your tab and get out of here.
Larry had just been laid off. He had been working nights as a carpet cleaner for high rise buildings. Lucky for him he had been running a side business slingin quality poo snacks for dogs. His most popular item was the Krispy Shitz line made from real cat turds. The dogs went bonkers over these. They came with the following warning: If you absolutely have to handle these with your hands, make sure that the dog is tied up. These dog snacks are so potent, even your best canine friend will chew through you to get to the creamy middle inside every mouth watering log.
Petrified wolf droppings can fetch as much as twelve dollars a pound on the right street corner. I’ll stop there and collect my thoughts for tomorrow.
I’ve decided that its best if I can keep the entries short then this journal will last longer. But in deference to that, today was a healthy day. I woke up really early and scavenged the zoo. Got high on some cow piss for lunch and then had a beer at the lodge. Met a good looking girl playing pool. Didn’t get her number though. I hope she will be there tomorrow.
Intense day in the forest today. Gathered over twenty five pounds of assorted turds. Mostly badger and muskrat. And just enough moose blast to cover my expenses. I’ll be heading to the lodge again tonight. Hopefully she’ll be there. I’ll spend all my cash on her if it impresses her. I’m putting two fiftys in my wallet for tonight. One for dinner and hopefully the other for breakfast. Wish me luck.
Nope it’s the same night. She wasn’t there. Got some d-grade instead. It hit the spot but satisfaction is only is only temporary. Nothing meaty. Nothing you can really sink your teeth into and. Damn, there are cats humping their guts out on the roof. I’m really considering taking my pistol crossbow to them tonight. Teach them to rub it in.