An ongoing evolutionary collaborative free-range Atkin's friendly, wardrobe malfunction-free, literary blog. Tastes like chicken, smells like pennies, thinks like Sloths. Hand me your cash, we need an editor.
chapter 2:
When this breakfast of champion feast was complete, the exhaust of Ms. Bluetooth's aroma was still in the room. Complete with her penchant need to have a Run for the Roses rat race with her pet rats including a smelly ferret with buck teeth who always ate some of the contenders in addition to the fine Havarti cheese, but she also had to take her uncle who was beyond using the potty and depended on Depends©, one would think Ms. Bluetooth had problems. One of Ms Bluetooth's problems was that she was known to the community as the Hot Dog Water Lady. This unfortunate yet accurate name was coined because of an incident that happened years ago. She won a radio contest for the first person to call in to name who the lead singer of 
Kaja Goo Goo, and as a result - she was invited to participate in a hot dog water drinking contest.
The participants of this contest were required to consume as much hot dog water from a Hot Dog vendor's cart in New York City as humanly possible.
She won the contest. Her Uncle, who was recently seen on David Letterman had done the very same thing. Uncle Bluetoe, as he was known, had a penchant for drinking from other people's glasses. He had a particular fondness for food found in garbage bins, of course his relatives felt that he was giving the family a bad name by doing so. When Ms. Bluetooth was not involved in her own filth management, or lack thereof, she would hang with her friends down at the Denny's.
Her buddy Wheezy Kate and Doc Rope were always there with their yellow cigarette stained finger tips holding mega sized Big-Gulp©esque cups filled with syrupy swill, and their armpits wringing wet. They rolled their eyes as Ms. Bluetooth entered Denny's and farted - so loudly that the other patrons started to complain. Of course her friends thought this was hilarious. It was a festivous of adolescent humor all rolled into one bad white trash infomercial replete with lite beer NASCAR humor and feminine hygiene products. The thing that was missing was a swanky roadster festooned with duct tape and
Red Green at the wheel..promoting his newest invention of scratch-and-sniff Duct Tape.
Doc Rope was an interesting troubled sad bloke. A queeny matron of sorts. He was the "boy next door" who you always knew who was gay. He never pretended he was gay unless it was to his parents, sad in that way. But to all his friends - he was just Doc Rope. His name came from his stupid charm of being afflicted with glaucoma - he became addicted to smoking prescribed medical marijuana, well not addicted - just he loved to be high. He knew Betty and Weezy Kate because they knew all too well of his escapades and longing to go shopping for women's clothing at Wally Mart for bargains and of his need to have friends even if stranger than himself, it was a comfort zone, but one he had to reckon with as he found solace in the insular nature of how he tounts men for a cheap set of earrings or the faint sight of pesky solopsistic bliss. Whereas Wheezy Kate, she adorned a different role as a personification of gypsy nastiness. She embodies and completes the "fag hag" to Doc Rope's anti-nemisis.
Kate, known to her inner circle as WK - like Y2K...she's just Wk. Her only claim to fame is being able to lick her own nose
.......that woman had a tongue that you could almost trip over. Trip over or play jump rope with....but at least she could keep her nose clean literally. Poor Kate was like a freaky dog with a long tongue, she could keep any lesbian happy - but she wasn't a pinch hitter. She played with the team, but hated baseball. Ironic. She could go to fifth base, but abhored her lesbianism. She did like guns, in fact the water pistols were her favorite and she took aim at people with frosted lips and matching eyelids only to find that those women were not only classy but evil. They used their capsicum spray on her more than once believing that she was trying to rob them and steal their precious gems and fancy handbags that always matched their shoes.
Neither Wk nor Doc Rope ever winced nor batted an eyelash when Dottie swaggered into the booth and asked for money, this was a constant request. The same answers came before the questions. Regardless, the action was fruitless as the outcome. Pure stasis, just let's just do this. Meaning that it was time to rob another pharmacy for some viagra to sell on the streets to the old men who had lost the will to live except for the occasional poke at the pig so to speak.
When this breakfast of champion feast was complete, the exhaust of Ms. Bluetooth's aroma was still in the room. Complete with her penchant need to have a Run for the Roses rat race with her pet rats including a smelly ferret with buck teeth who always ate some of the contenders in addition to the fine Havarti cheese, but she also had to take her uncle who was beyond using the potty and depended on Depends©, one would think Ms. Bluetooth had problems. One of Ms Bluetooth's problems was that she was known to the community as the Hot Dog Water Lady. This unfortunate yet accurate name was coined because of an incident that happened years ago. She won a radio contest for the first person to call in to name who the lead singer of Kaja Goo Goo, and as a result - she was invited to participate in a hot dog water drinking contest.
The participants of this contest were required to consume as much hot dog water from a Hot Dog vendor's cart in New York City as humanly possible.
She won the contest. Her Uncle, who was recently seen on David Letterman had done the very same thing. Uncle Bluetoe, as he was known, had a penchant for drinking from other people's glasses. He had a particular fondness for food found in garbage bins, of course his relatives felt that he was giving the family a bad name by doing so. When Ms. Bluetooth was not involved in her own filth management, or lack thereof, she would hang with her friends down at the Denny's.
Her buddy Wheezy Kate and Doc Rope were always there with their yellow cigarette stained finger tips holding mega sized Big-Gulp©esque cups filled with syrupy swill, and their armpits wringing wet. They rolled their eyes as Ms. Bluetooth entered Denny's and farted - so loudly that the other patrons started to complain. Of course her friends thought this was hilarious. It was a festivous of adolescent humor all rolled into one bad white trash infomercial replete with lite beer NASCAR humor and feminine hygiene products. The thing that was missing was a swanky roadster festooned with duct tape and
Red Green at the wheel..promoting his newest invention of scratch-and-sniff Duct Tape.
Doc Rope was an interesting troubled sad bloke. A queeny matron of sorts. He was the "boy next door" who you always knew who was gay. He never pretended he was gay unless it was to his parents, sad in that way. But to all his friends - he was just Doc Rope. His name came from his stupid charm of being afflicted with glaucoma - he became addicted to smoking prescribed medical marijuana, well not addicted - just he loved to be high. He knew Betty and Weezy Kate because they knew all too well of his escapades and longing to go shopping for women's clothing at Wally Mart for bargains and of his need to have friends even if stranger than himself, it was a comfort zone, but one he had to reckon with as he found solace in the insular nature of how he tounts men for a cheap set of earrings or the faint sight of pesky solopsistic bliss. Whereas Wheezy Kate, she adorned a different role as a personification of gypsy nastiness. She embodies and completes the "fag hag" to Doc Rope's anti-nemisis.
Kate, known to her inner circle as WK - like Y2K...she's just Wk. Her only claim to fame is being able to lick her own nose
.......that woman had a tongue that you could almost trip over. Trip over or play jump rope with....but at least she could keep her nose clean literally. Poor Kate was like a freaky dog with a long tongue, she could keep any lesbian happy - but she wasn't a pinch hitter. She played with the team, but hated baseball. Ironic. She could go to fifth base, but abhored her lesbianism. She did like guns, in fact the water pistols were her favorite and she took aim at people with frosted lips and matching eyelids only to find that those women were not only classy but evil. They used their capsicum spray on her more than once believing that she was trying to rob them and steal their precious gems and fancy handbags that always matched their shoes.
Neither Wk nor Doc Rope ever winced nor batted an eyelash when Dottie swaggered into the booth and asked for money, this was a constant request. The same answers came before the questions. Regardless, the action was fruitless as the outcome. Pure stasis, just let's just do this. Meaning that it was time to rob another pharmacy for some viagra to sell on the streets to the old men who had lost the will to live except for the occasional poke at the pig so to speak.
