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 Erich hess Dear diary,I am writing to you on the off chance that bastard,Erwin Rommel, steals these thoughts from my head. He was a crafty son of a bitch. They don't dole out nicknames like "the desert fox" all willy nilly. Oh no no no. You gotta earn that mother fucker. He wasnt nicknamed " stinky" or "booger", or "captain O.G. Readmore". He was the desert fox. He was Jerry and he was confusing YOU at every turn! Now Ada claims old Erwin wasnt an evil nazi bastard. In fact,he was involved with a plot to kill that one guy..what is his name? Had a funny mustache? Meh,it's unimportant. I'm sure nobody else remembers him either. Her charming theory may be true,but he is the only opponent worthy of me. I know it,and Rommel knows it. So back to the diary entry. Diary entry. Sound dangerously close to diarrhea . We ALL know that diarrhea is like a storm raging inside you. One time I was siting outside of a Montreal Denny's ,trying to score some weed,as you do. This car pulls up,and I am pretty sure its my contact. I hop in the passenger side door,which is our agreed upon action for this nefarious transmission of money for goods.....I probably could have gotten some "services" in addition to goods. My contact was a rather cute,if horrifyingly blonde girl. I do not like blondes. I don't trust the way their hair lacks color. It is probably some funky disease that is highly contagious. Ive seen Erica with blonde hair since dating chesty larue ...though Ada could pull it off. She'd look pretty with a clown Afro and wearing a garbage bag. Oh,sorry. I got side tracked. So I hop in the car and am faced by the very not blonde,very not drug dealer,very not female ....bing Crosby. Yes,THAT bing Crosby,americas dad.As if you know any other bings? Shut the fuck up,your uncle mort doesn't have a friend,who has an uncle,who once lived beside a man,who on a brisk July day fucked a woman, who birthed a son,who later broke his ankle on a swingset shared by a girl ,who's father went to church with a man,who bought a garden gnome at a garage sale hosted by a woman,who worked as a dominatrix ,who worked with a man,who once saw two dogs doing it in his neighbors yard,who just happened to be a registered sex offender,who molested a little boy,who wore a striped shirt he bought from k mart,where the guy in the sporting goods section,knew a guy who dated a girl,who had a cousin who once drove past a diner where the cook's name was bing. Bullshit,it didnt happen!.There is only one bing. And that's Cosby,motherfucker...Crosby,I mean. So there i am,cash in hand,looking at fucking bing Crosby! He naturally asks if I have any immodium. I am like "no.but this is Montreal,it's practically crawling in anti diarrheal medication.". Old bing gets this panicked look on his face,you know the kind usually reserved for finding out your sex partner died 20 minutes ago,and you will haven't came...so you keep going? He has look just like that on his face. "I...can't... Wait that long." Bing whispers. I hear a slight "bloorp" sound,and then all hell breaks loose. We're inside bings old Mercedes. It's a lovely one too. Lovely,but leather seats don't really absorb liquid. In sheer seconds he is sitting waist deep in poo. I shit you not....get it? Ha ha ha. I crack myself up sometimes. At this point,the drivers side floor board is starting to fill. In seconds it will crest the hump and MY feet will be soaked in bings boople. I finally just ask," so......you aren't going to sell me any weed,are you?" I thus learned the true meaning of Arbor Day,and laughed with the velveteen rabbit as all the other toys were burned. There was something about a shoe horn in a place shoe horns should never be,in there too. But hell if I can remember....DAMN IT! I knew Rommel was going to steal my thoughts if I didn't write them down! |
  "I'm not saying its even a good thing to own a chimpanzee. But that's freedom, folks." Alex Jones. |
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