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Tails and Short Stories.

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"Come here for a secound. Hold still."Why!" Did you take any kind of precautions last night? Who is she? Where did you lay down? Arf! Arf!
Shut up! A mild tingling feeling came over his entire body. All the little hairs tugged individualy. "Why are you scratching! What kind of little ..... "Shut up!"
A wave of cilliary bodies collided against each-other like so many dominoes. One after the next each soldier tapping the other on the back to pass yet another dirty joke in the recipients ear.
The hairs around the perimeter of his head began to dance and wave at one another sending electric messages to the few transparent hairs on the distal tip of his scapula.
My MY why are we so touchy and so itchy. You can tell me her name, hey I know since you don't want to reveal her how about we play a game.
"Go to hell, and this time don't stop at the seven eleven and ask how much the magazines that are shrink wrapped are if you just look."
"She must be really special so I'll bow out. Still I have a method of discerning names. For instance alot of names are not really names they're nic names. Like suzie is a hoe and every where she go. she leaves a little something for you..
Check your shorts sport I think your little girlfreind left you with alot of dirty laundry.
You need to quell. I mean I realize that this realationship quick formed in the night is a long lasting relationship and your in for the serious committment 10- 14 days burning ,painful urination... "
A long furl of Hawaiian punch streamed across the multi-carpeted floor. It was bare in patches and those patches were filled in with tumbler markings. There were examination papers neatly filed in a trash basket with a load of dirty stiff mangey looking socks that matched not at all to the adjacent sock that was stuck to it. Some toe to heel, some heel less completely others various states of holiness. A faint ordor waifted directly in front of the waste basket which was interupted by a vomit triggering po pourri type aerosol. The reciepient was in mid sentence when a huge thwack of juice enveloped his upper head area and sprayed the back of the wall like a violent crime scene. The front of his T-Shirt soaked heavily with the crimson tide of punch.
The end of the back scracther bobed up and down meanicingly on the frontal side of his shorts. The handle was carved and the hand belonged to a monkey once, but not anymore, the tag marked and stuck on the side of the wood grain read made in Indonesia.
Hey! Your about as fun as being trapped in a stationwagon with 15 Monkeys and all the windows are rolled up. The heater is on full and there is a zebra in the back with a case of diarrhea. The monkeys want to stop and get lunch because they have'nt eaten since they got thier tails caught in the exhaust pipe. It was cold and they thought that the tail pipe was a tail warmer made for monkeys with cold tails. That was before they got locked in the car. It was way before the power windows stopped working. With 15 monkeys playing with the power window buttons it never fails. This would'nt be so bad because you could always stop the car no matter how many monkey's wanted to drive none of them could drive drunk and none of them could handle standard shift. But the problem is that in spite of the fact that there's a sick zebra in the back who really and truly is passing stool samples against the side walls of the rear cargo area in between giving zebra kicks to the back of the cargo door area, rattling the rear window wiper and causing the defrost lines inbedded in the rear window to bend and crack. No, NO. You could deal with all of that by simply ignoring the 15 monkey's and pulling neatly to the side of the road. But your not on a road. Your on a raging rapid headed for the tumult of rocky waterfall prefacice. The monkeys are hooting and hoolering and grabbing their tails and wincing from the exhaust tail pipe burns. The heater is on full blast and its a new one so it works really well and they have the same model in one those
GM luxury vehicles so it's burning hot and the windsheild is cracking under the extreme heat. All this is going on and the station wagon is getting closer and closer to the edge of the waterfall. The doors are locked completely and your allergies that are aggravated by exotic pet hair are kicking in causing huge swelling hives. You have a sinus head ache. Every time you look into the rear view mirror the belch of Zebra shit keeps hitting you in the nostrils.
One of the monkeys is playing with a letter opener and all of them are taking turns tossing the opener end of the letter opener into your lap.
You have brand new designer kicks on and both of them are laced to each-other so you can't do anything about the fact that your feet are tied to the brake pedal and the clucth pad at the same time. Thats how much fun you are, just think about in incriments you your mutt girlfreind hido which ryhmes with fido, and that idiot you passed off last semester as your uncle. Who incidently I had to buy drinks for the entire time the free loader was over here. Thank god he likes cisqo.
His voice could still be heard as it echoed from the bathroom, through the sound of running water and the eventual closing of the shower door.
You have got to be the most fun person I have ever roomed with. Well, that's not true Mussolini now there was a fun guy, I stand corrected.
A few more urnest tugs on the end of the back scratcher was followed by a bone wrenching barrage with sudden and abrupt intensity. The walls of the room were not normal, well define normal and your in group therapy. It's always a safe bet that if you have to define normal it's been a prettly long time since you've been there yourself. It's a safer thing to realize what normal is and go for it on a daily basis. Asking if this or that is normal just sends of trigger responses and it's bad scence.
A lot has to be said for the absense of poster art. However alot of the pencil drawings all done in heavy number 2 pencil lead were bizzare doodlings or phrases like "kilroy was here." In some instances there were attempts to erase the cryptic messages and replace them with real art. Like the wonderful two legged donkey cookie or what-ever it was that festooned the gable leading out towards the breakfast nok. One nice thing about living in a reconditioned farm house was things like a breakfast nok. This particular room was not done in the usually plank wood from a rotting or salvaged farm house. This room was just sheet rocked and it was unfinished so it was hard to discern whether it was comming down or going up. The housings to the electric light swithes were still absent of covers.
There was the usualy velcrow basket ball base ball hockey game half adhered to the wall by two really lousey suction cups and the two completely missing leaving the game playable at an odd angle.
There were various odds and ends of natter and clothing strewn across the floor in a line leading to the bathroom which was now occupied. The clothes were knotted to one another and as you got nearer to the bathroom the stale smell of fungi ridden damp towels could be experienced.
There were a huge amount of seed catalogues neatly piled atop one another. The standard amount of CD's and a nice collection of DVD cases absent of any DVD's. For all the clutter and odors you still did'nt get the feeling that anything sanitary was going on in this room at least. Although it's unfinished look made it look more like a work in progress.
"Hurry up, I gotta get in the shower." The back scratcher remained lodged in the front of his shorts as he walked through the room it waved back and forth like a metronome."
There were half empty bottles of energizers rolling around on the floor everytime you took a half step.
She is not my girlfreind I remember so very little of last night anyway. For all I know this whole thing is pycho-somatic. Again a new area right between his shoulder blades ignited as the hairs moved like tall grass beneath the blades of a heliocopter.
"Did you at least use condums?"
"I don't remember much about last night but I'm not stupid."
With his left hand he manuvered his thumb to press the pound key for information.
"Helski information how may I assist you?
"Yes I'd like the number for the closest free clinic."
"Free Clinic?"
There was a pause.
"In What city would you like this free clinic, ma'm?
"It's Sir and I'd like it is as fast as possiable I've got an itching sensation that is all over my body and in my groin area I...
"Sir, I apologize for calling you m'am earlier I just need the city I can get you a veneral disease clinic if you tell me the city."
"Ah, the city that never sleeps. A small farming community baptist. Very straight laced. Hard working."
"What number are you calling from sir I can get you to one in your area code.
"Miles and miles of pasture land, green like the way it's discribed in the bible. Fresh, clean upstanding.
"Did you go to Murphy's Law across the street from the peep show?"
"Odd, yes">
"One moment please."
"Here's your number".
What do you think?
Sir I'm not a nurse.
"But my guess is that your date's name rhymes with Snow."
No I don't mean that I mean what do you think about me and you? I think this whole thing is pycho-somatic and it's something that's in my soap that's irratating me.
In the background a large can of Uncle Toms itching powder along with an empty bottle of Sisqo.
Hello?
<<CLick>><<Dail Tone.>>
















Tall Forty ACEY DUECY.

The lesson learned is that it's cheaper to keeper.

The cold is hot and the meat is in the freezer.

Don't try and trip when it's your fly or the zipper.

It kinda ticks you off when she say's no to your flipper.

The case in point is nuff said no is no that's a keeper.

It's roman hands at night and still you need a reciever.

The bird in one hand has the bush and you need her.

The lesson learned that soap and water's the savior.

It not enough to sex if soap's not there the act is unfair.

Will people stop and stare at pictures of you gonads in an encyclepidia when your veneral disease gets picked up by local media.

TallForty is our name and we want to greet ya.

The brown bag crowd is the same as fine wine labels.

The art of brown bag is all in the bendable straw.

Excuse us while we sip while the crowd stops and pauses.

It's not a relief matter that we take in our hands.

Recyclable in cans or bottles is what we have.

The brave the bold this is not for tangled sissies.

Or moco loco java bean insane computer hackers.

We don't wear tight jeans on the count of our gonads.

It's strictly boxer shorts and designer labels.

The colors that we wear are in fashion sometimes.

It's just what we like that makes us go there.

So prissy smiling heads and tight shirts with drawstrings and canvas shoes with heels and zippers is not what we're into.

It's water guava juice or something that's blended. It's not the alcohol content it's bendable straws that's the venue.

*All references to Sisqo will be replaced by WINE-O .
WINE_O Owner Operator and creator of special occasions No Wine before it's time- WINE-O!