i love you. nothing in here is true other than that. thats all you ever need to know. so lets go.
i have the lowest self esteem of anyone you know. and i have the dumbest reason for it than everyone you know. if theres an archeologist in the house, throw ten thousand years of dirt on this blog and then dig it up and you will see that all of this was a way for me to play chess with the demons in my head and the spectacular battle almost always ends up exactly the same way as when jacob wrestled the angel – in a sore draw where both parties limp home with new names.
me and karisa were talking about the bible and she gets mad when she talks about it. not as mad as elizabeth hassleback did on the view the other day talking about the morning after pill but theres an energy in her voice thats slightly on edge when we talk about the good book which is funny because no other topic does that to her.
we used to have a dog that would dig at phantom bones in our purple shag carpet.
he said what does that have to do with anything.
i said shhhhh.
he said im going to sue everyone here.
i said if you say that again im going to ring a bell and before the note has diminished your pinkie will be finished. and the agent next to me dug into her back pocket and tossed a shriveled up pinkie on the table.
i continued: pepper was crazy i thought at first, but what did i know, i was a teenager growing up in the suburbs of illinois. i didnt know shit other than knowing i didnt know shit.
but life is different than even we imagine it i told him. bloody from the sharp edges of the old office. shaking because he didnt know who the xbi was who i was or who she was and unsure if that was really a finger on the table but certain that it smelled like shit.
for centuries no one knew the mysteries of the gspot i told him and paced slowly as i walked. and not until the last three hundred years has man even understood electricity enough to harness it. and for only the last few decades has the black man been an equal to the white in america. and even thats debatable she added putting out her cigarette on her fishnetted thigh. i dont know why.
and she and i drank in front of him and she and i did bong loads in front of him and she and i snorted rails of coke off each other in front of him. mostly for dramatic effect but also because she would go along with any riff i started and vice versa, which was fun, and dangerous, which is even more fun of course.
and when the cocaine was through i picked up the gun.
and i exhaled and said ok, here we go.
and he didnt know that i have the tolerance of an isla vistan. the greatest gift the agency ever thrust upon me. and i play a pretty good drunk. and she was truly drunk which was fun. and she said tell him about the Spam tony.
i said my name is sonny. she said oh yeah sonny. tell him about the Spam.
and i took all the bullets out of the gun except one. and i spun the thing around. and i pointed it at him.
and i said all the spam in the world are messages from the aliens.
and i pulled the trigger.
but nothing happened except for the shriek and the piss and the pulling of the arm on the handcuff and the chair.
thats why the spelling is all fucked up.
thats why the messages are always garbled.
thats why the ads on there are always retarded.
which meant that the next one was probably gonna be it. he shit.
so i spun it around and pointed it at the cute agent. instead of the bad guy.
who was so bad he knew he had all of this coming.
and i pointed it at the agent who i totally dug and told all the time which has always been my mistake. keep your mouth shut in the real world, tell all your tales n the blog world.
you’ll always have sexiness.
and she played with her hair with one hand, looked at me and only me
while dragging her pierced tongue across her top lip
and i shot it
and it hit the stud on the tongue ring
and ricocheted across the room right at the bad guy
and tomorrow he will get a postcard saying
tsar plays tonight at safari sams in hollywood