- Home > Archive: July, 2018
He had a hard on,
running through the forrest.
He was randy, he was hairy,
and he wanted to put his rugged,
rock hard pine branch
into some juicy, wet crotch.
(Tree crotch, I meant.)
Bigfoot caught Big Ankles
and they made hot, passionate love.
Where he was once chasing her,
she turned the tables
and ran after him,
his dick and balls dragging
on the forrest floor.
(Over pine needles and moss.)
Actual Bigfoot Erotica, written by the poet laureate of the Bigfoots,
Alonzo Longfellows, he was a poet and he didn’t know it,
but his feet
sure showed it.
Pete ad his wife had 6 kids.
Last thing they needed was a dog,
so they adopted a German Shepard puppy.
After having it for about a month,
it started acting strangely,
wouldn’t eat, lethargic,
growled when you rubbed his tummy.
Finally broke down and took him to the vet.
$500 later an X-ray showed that
he had swallowed Xenita’s doll, whole.
“We’ll have to do surgery to remove that”
said the vet, “Or he’s going to die.”
“How much will that cost?”
“About three thousand dollars.”
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
The kids were beside themselves.
Pete wanted to give him
a special last meal.
Thought about cooking him a steak,
but he couldn’t bring himself to spend that much
on a dog was going to be put down anyway.
So they made him a grilled cheese sandwich.
Next thing you know he’s jumping
up and down at the door.
He runs outside and takes huge dump.
Out pops the doll, and he’s as good as new.
“Three thousand bucks” said Pete,
“All we had to do was feed him grilled cheese.”
The Donnelly chin
and the Donnelly tragedy.
The old man was an alcoholic,
violent and mean,
he wound up with wet brain.
His grandson lived out his life
in infamy, as well.
Stole from his own mother and brother.
Just robbed them blind without remorse.
That came later,
when he got hepatitis
and his liver was crying.
The regret slowly crept in
and ruined his skin.
He told himself for the thousandth time,
“They went into business with me,
it was their own fault.”
Pete just finished a set
playing bongos in the Felipe Suarez Big Band.
Then his phone blew up.
“Yeah?” he answered.
“You broke his fucking nose?” a slightly shrill voice
yelled from the other end.
“He swung at me first,” said Pete.
“You broke his fucking nose! You’re a boxer,
you could’ve blocked or ducked him.”
“He swung at my nose. I just corrected his form.”
“Do you know who he is?”
“He’s the district attorney’s son.”
“So?” said Pete.
“He will ID you.”
“Yeah? And? He swung at me first,
it was self defense.”
“Five minutes.” the stage manager said, poking his head into the green room.
“You need to get outta town. “
He hung up the phone without responding
thinking of Havana in April.
Saint Michael, the prince of angels,
fought the dragon and defeated it.
He and his army went to battle
with Satan, his dragon and his army of angels.
The devil prevailed not.
Saint Michael, protector and warrior,
stood for the children of his people.
He fought for them and won again.
Like all angels, he is a messenger of God.
His nature is spirit. In action,
he is servant and messenger.
Moving like an electron between spaces,
making quantum leaps.
And although he questioned why God
wanted to create humanity, he was spared.
His army of angels perished in flames
for arguing that God should not have created man.
Why then, was Michael spared?
Perhaps because his loyalty was never in question.
“She was beautiful,” Carmine said. “Since we were kids, she always liked me. I knew how to make her laugh.”
“Her boyfriend was a wiseguy. He and his crew, they were young,
we were all young, maybe twenty five or twenty six.”
“Whenever he went off to jail, she’d come over and knock on my door.
She’d say ‘Let’s party!’. She liked doing heroine.”
“He was crazy jealous. Whenever he got out, I’d disappear,
make myself scarce.”
“One time he gets out and he sees my best friend, Izzie, talking to her.
Next thing you know, he and his crew jump out of a car and they beat him
within an inch of his life. He spent two months in the hospital. He was never the same.”
“He got sent back to jail for that. And Lizette comes knocking on my door.
I wasn’t going to answer this time, but I couldn’t say no to her.”
“So, one day, I’m riding the Staten Island ferry to work
and there he is, with his goons. They all walk up to me and surround me.
I looked him straight in the eye and said, “Hey, Joey.”
“I don’t know why, I wasn’t afraid. He shakes my hand and they all
just walk away. Fucking miracle. That was God working in my life.
He knew I was making time with her while he was on the inside.”
It was a summer theater production
of Edward Bond’s The Sea.
Part of the repertory
of a rundown playhouse
in a small Connecticut town called Ivoryton.
McFay was playing Hatch, the draper.
Drinking in the bar after the dress rehearsal.
“Witches! Hussies!” he bellowed across the bar.
“Keep it down. I’ll put you out on your ear.”
said McMahon, the bartender.
“I’ll have you know, I was once someone
people bought tickets to see.” said McFay.
“Is that so? I was once someone
who got a lot of tickets
and had lots of people to see.” answered McMahon.
“How about another?”
“You’ve had enough, my friend.”
“All’s well that ends well.” said McFay, suddenly deflated.
“What do I owe you?”
“It’s on me.” said McMahon.
“You’re a gentleman and a scholar.”
“I’m neither.” said McMahon.