drunkenhousecat

Lime Green Time Machine (A bedtime story) R.B. Armstrong 1985 The funeral was sad (No big surprise there) Dark clouds Rain It was just like in the movies Newmar stood in the back Taking hits off of a pint of Jim Beam Mixing tears with pain A poem, a quote, a mound of earth And his Uncle Pete was buried Newmar sighed As his mind wandered back It was the fourth of July A bar-b-que with his family He was playing in the dirt With toy tanks and plastic dinosaurs When he suddenly felt a weird vibe He caught a feeling of something very bad And very hot He jumped up and tackled Uncle Pete Knocking him down and safely away Jus

Hi kids! How are you all doing today? Good. That's real good. Today I'm going to show you how to make people's eyes lock up like a raccoon caught in a pair of headlights. Does that sound like fun? Are you ready? Then let's go... Don't you hate it when someone asks how you are doing? I know I do. I always have to say, "Fine. Everything's just fine." Or, "Not bad. How are you today?" Sometimes I just want to grab their face and yell, "None of your fucking business, asshole! What are you? A fucking cop?" But that's not very nice, is it boys and girls? No. That's not very nice at all. So what do you do when you feel like that? Do what I do.

Okay... You're going to have to help me with this one. It's okay. You can handle it. I promise. Imagine you are at a party. Everyone you know is there. Everybody. Even me. I'm there too. And people you don't know. There's tons of them. The place is packed to the rafters, man. You couldn't fit a poodle in here. Not without a bottle of salad oil and a crowbar. There's folk over by the stereo playing strip twister. Guys and girls faking each other out. Who's got the coolest car? That kind of thing. And there are men in strange uniforms and hats. Engaged in the most intense game of Risk that's ever been played. Anywhere. Ev

"The Shithouse Effect" He sat at the motor lodge bar Drinking And smoking his brains out A guy sat next to him Offered his hand A salesman from Sheboygan Both said hello Bought each other drinks Joked about sports And presidents And cars And such At one point The talk turned to women And the problems that pop up with them When you least expect it The salesman laughed And told him a story "I don't really know how it happened. Nope, not me. Not really. I'm not very good with real life. She was a blonde, I do know that much, and a babe to boot. Matching collar and cuffs. The whole deal, man. Hooo-weee! A total dollface, that

Life… It's like a road Long Never ending Twists And turns Forks and underpasses Other people's cars Burnt and hollowed out Over turned and blocking the way You swerve to miss them But have to look Fascinated by the flames and burnt bodies And as you strain to listen to their radios And as you smell gasoline and burnt rubber You sometimes miss your exit And then you think "What the fuck did I do to deserve this?" But Keep driving none the less For someday Someday soon You'll be home Safe and sound Without a care in the world Without a single problem Without a single teardrop And it will all come together Again...

I'm gonna up and pick and choose Go to a store and ditch the barefoot blues Drop some money, gonna pay my dues And buy me a new pair of shoes I saw an ad in the morning news Believe me, buddy, I ain't no fool So I caught a bus, had no time to lose Now I got a new pair of shoes They've got black laces and they match my pants It says on the box that they were made in France Gonna take my honey to the springtime dance This ain't no time to snooze Then it's up the aisle between the pews We're both gonna say our yes I do's A wife, a house, and a baby too 'cause I gotta new pair of shoes Dude I gotta new pair of shoes

I knew this guy named Newmar, right? He worked in construction, heat sealing plasti-beams for the MondoCorp building downtown. He was an average guy. Kept to himself. Never caused any problems or nothing. What you might call a square egg. So...one day he's up on, um...I dunno, like the two hundred and thirty fourth floor or whatever and he stops for lunch. Opens his lunch pail and starts munching on an egg salad sandwich with bacon bits. Real bacon bits, mind you. None of that fake stuff for this guy. And he's gulping down his chow with his feet dangling over the edge of the building and this swinging crane pops him in the head with a beam.