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lunatic binge
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I've had it. Up to here. That damn jackass Wonderaz has gone plumb over the edge this time. I'm certain of it. And he's pullin' me right along with 'im.
No-good, worthless, dirty-rotten, goofy, ignernt sumbitch. Hang on there. This story's gonna require at least one more bottle.
That's better. Ummm, oh yeah. The jackass. Y'all know that crazy bastid is as afraid o' Johnny Law as a possum is of an axe handle. No question about it. Well, it would stand to reason that if he wuz of a rational mind, which he ain't, he'd avoid potential encounters with the law like the plague.
Not the jackass. Nosireeee. Hell, he just arrived back at the resthome a few hours ago on a bus. Where wuz he, you say? Well, where he wuz ain't nearly as important as whut he wuz doin' when he wuz where he wuz.
I don't know whut I'd do without my trusted, true-blue friend, Dickel. Excuse me if'n I git a tad bit teary-eyed.
Don't worry. I ain't lost my place. I just needed a li'l nip. Anyway, the jackass somehow made it all the way to a damn Eydie Gorme 'n' Steve Lawrence show. Ya gotta understand the jackass don't give a rat's ass 'bout Steve Lawrence, in fact, he's claimed fer years that Lawrence is just a eunuch assigned to Eydie by her record company to keep tabs on her.
I know. I know. Don't make a damn lick o' sense, but remember . . . we're talking 'bout the jackass. The jackass and good sense are like oil 'n' water. Com-pren-day, Jose'?
Jeebus! Some o' that last swallow went down the wrong pipe. Burns like th'dickens. Oh, uh, the bus, the bus. I spent my last red cent . . . again . . . on bail bond and a bus ticket fer the jackass. Seems he disrupted the show 'n' got slapped with an attempted indecent exposure charge that wuz later reduced to attemptin' to disturbin' the piece. Frankly, I thought it wuz bad manners fer th'law to refer to Miss Gorme as a "piece", but hey! Whut do I know?
Anyway, in exchange fer settin' his bail, that bozo judge made the jackass promise he'd leave the jurisdiction if he'd swear to leave Miss Gorme alone forever 'n' ever and to also never come back to that state in return fer sum plea bargin. Well, all I can say is, whoever paid to send that numbnuts judge t'law school oughtta demand a full refund.
Oh, and while I'm at it, I'll just letcha know there ain't no punchline to this story. It's just one o' whut Paint CHiPs calls "cream o' unconsciousness" deals, or sumpin' like that.
And, did I git a "thank you" fer bailin' him out? A pat on the back fer the bus ticket? Hell no. Ungrateful bastid jackass just stumbles offa that bus, all cockeyed 'n' proud o' hisself. He's been in his room fer four hours straight, wearin' nuttin' but that same ol' abominable red bra 'n' red soily panties. Now, I'm used to that. But that ain't all . . .
For the past four hours, he's been blastin' that "Blame It On The Bossa Nova", over and over and over and dancin' in front o' that full-length mirror o' his. I can handle him bein' sick. Hell, he's been sick fer years. But I ain't as ruff 'n' tuff as I used to be an' I'm about to crack.
I been told they put the good Doctor Kevorkian in the pokey. If he has any pals in the business, I'd appreciate it if'n you'd send me his/her phone number and right quick. I love y'all 'n' have enjoyed my time here at AsylumNation, shootin' the shit, lookin' at titties, 'n' drinkin' Dickel. But if I'm gone tomorrow, just blame it on the bossa nova.
Now if y'all will excuse me, I got sum real serious drinkin' t'do.
Amen.
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