Yes Or No?

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
The encounter . . .

Submitted: February 01, 2020

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Submitted: February 01, 2020

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He leaves a WhyEmmSeeAy - just popped in for ablutions. Continues walking - minding his own business. Whassat? (Dunno.) Then Mzzy says it sounds like music. Up ahead, a ghetto-baster plays a cassette with a TDK blank label. The plastic spools rotate behind their Perspex window. The mesh-covered subwoofers vibrate - and the knobs are painted Day-Glo pinks and greens. The bass. The decibels - very nearly causing, in my opinion, an unnecessary disturbance of the peace: du-oi di-di-di-di du-oi . . . ah-ah-ahhhh . . . ah-ummmmm . . . paaaaaaaaaaa . . . paraaaaa-noimi-aaaaaa!!! Then Max Headroom starts his stutter-looping: Look, I must have a starrrr on my door. Ahhhh, swing doorrrrs up. O-o-o-okayyyy doors, swingggg! As our vagabond approaches - a tall albino comes in to view (reaching down and pressing the STOP button). White Pony must be all of six-foot-eight - but an anaemic 13-stone. He takes forever to straighten up in his PeeVeeSee mankini - to return his oversized head to its upright position. The man wastes no time with small talk: You come for a rite of passage? If not . . . go back to the Society of Jesus - plenty of be-you-tee-full twinks cruising the shopping plazza. The only bon-om-mee you goin' to find in this warrrr zone is shared needles and lots of the acquired stuffff. I can give you the Gift, darlin' . . . for freeee, if Russian roulette's yer ting . . . ? Our vagabond: I'm on the shoppe . . . ! White Pony: Yer on the shoppe but there's no goin' back. Crazzzyyy what folk do these days just to feeeeel alive - but I s'pose a bussss could knock you flat toooomorrow. But what Mammy can give you is a reaaal slow kinda of pain - rots yer whole body from the inside out. Our vagabond: You're a b-b-big boy! White Pony: Mammy is a shower as well as a grower, sweeetie. Even on a cold day, me man fat is two inches from the ground. And I go in dry . . . sometimes wiv just a bit of Marlboro ash to ease all the friccccction. Baby, I'll take you all the wayyyyy to hell, if that's your poison - all it takes is a diseaseeeeeeed ejaculation (laughs). His praying mantis eyes are cold - soulless! Mzzy: Well . . . Evel Knievel, are we gonna jump or not . . . ?


© Copyright 2020 Jobe Rubens. All rights reserved.

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