1. Wednesday, December 18, 2002

    me and kurt cobain were still in death valley in some sort of pre-heaven state. 

    i had just had sex with twelve beautiful women, played some of my favorite pinball machines, and had a variety of alcoholic beverages. not bad for a guy who was dead.

    super pretty woman wearing a veil was standing in a corner. men and women walked up to her and kissed her. some super long kisses, some just little pecks. some of the women would giggle after they were done kissing. but everyone seemed happy, most of all the woman in the veil.

    whats up with her? i asked kurt

    she likes to kiss.

    everyone likes to kiss.

    so go kiss her.

    but what about germs?

    aint no germs here.

    what about, hmmm, what about… morals.

    whats morally wrong with kissing? its a nice thing.

    yeah, but i dont even know her.

    so go talk to her if you want, but she’d rather kiss. in fact she likes it better when you dont talk to her. gives her more of a thrill.

    wow, im tempted.

    let me ask you something, have you ever flipped off someone while driving on the road, or flamed someone in an email, or shouted at an umpire at a ball game, or wrote a mean letter to a newspaper writer?

    of course.

    well, those are strangers. you dont know them. and you go and do mean things to them and try to hurt their feelings. dont you think thats morally bad?

    but they were mean to me first!

    so be nice to her… first.

    still i was unsure. hesitant. it seemed too good to be true.

    kurt could read my mind. he said,

    if you cant handle free kisses next to a salsa bar, how are you going to handle the unlimited love of the creator?

    fucker raised a good point.

    unless, of course you’d rather kiss him.

    kurt pointed at a bearded man standing in a different corner who winked at me.

    uh, no thanks.

    whats wrong, havent you ever kissed a guy?

    i hesitated.

    i’d like to take the fifth, kurt cobain.

    oh my god, i just realized, you havent taken your Shame Shower yet. those girls didnt give you a shower after your romp?

    no, they just all fell asleep in a cute little heap.

    go to that great glass elevator over there. go to the fourth floor. then come back down here. i’ll wait for ya.

    so i walked over to the elevator. there were many buttons. i pressed four, the doors parted, there was steam everywhere, a woman approached me, bowed, she held out a basket and asked me to disrobe.

    i looked around, took the basket, walked into the changing room and put my clothes in the basket, borrowed a white robe and slippers and floated back over to the woman who lead me into a very tall steam room. must have been ten stories tall.

    please take your robe off

    the voice was pleasant.

    suddenly dozens of little baby cherubs could be heard giggling. they were far above me. little tiny cute bellies. completely naked. fat little cheeks, fat little arms, tiny little pee-pees and they began to urinate on me.

    it wasnt real pee, ladies. it was baby pee. baby angel shame shower pee. smelled like roses. it was freakilly warm though. it shoulda been called the Trust Shower but i had just banged a dozen women and totally chilled with kurt cobain, so i went with it.

    those little kids peed on me for a while and when they were done they flew away and the woman re-introduced herself and had two baskets. one basket had my old clothes, the other had a sweet puma sweat suit. dark green. some gold rope chains, and a pair of pearl white suede pumas with fat laces. there was also a diamond sparkling pimp cane.

    i chose the basket with my old clothes.

    the woman kissed my cheek and said, “live a little,” which was ironic since i was, well, dead.

    so i put down the basket of my old clothes and put on the new suit, and strangely, this time, i changed right in front of her. without even thinking.

    and when i was done, i gave her a big wet kiss.

    and she gave me one right back.

    3rd leg