Friday, March 7, 2008

My milkshake makes all the boys....wait a minute

A gentle caress
empty pint on the table
How I was conceived

I don't know if any of you knew this, but I have a strange family. There's some crack that's been smoked, some horses pounded, and then there's Smeagol, who needs no introduction and defies categorization. There was Matthew Conneroy, the young lad who would come over and allow our dog to molest him, and my dad's boss, who looked almost exactly like the principal in Billy Madison and kept trying to rescue me at the company pool party.

There was that crazy uncle we all have, you know, the one who shits in plastic bags and hangs them from a tree less than 10 feet from the toilet?

Anyway, I was feeling a little nostalgic today, and figured I would share a slightly older tale. Way back in the day, JJ was living with my mom on 35th and Bales with Jeff the Buttfucking Shitstain. Dad and Janet were living in the worst neighborhood in the greater metropolitan area, and Smeagol and I had just moved into our abode on Woodland. My grandma, under some kind of retard spell, believed my dad when he told her he was done with them crack rocks, and had just purchased him a cherry 1985 dunmetal grey ford thunderbird, which he would end up selling to me numerous times.

Back to JJ and my mom, their neighborhood was pretty fun to be around. There was Billy Bill, who was apparently in training to become my mom and dad's new crack dealer, who was training under V, who lived a few blocks down the street. There was Jenkins, the lovable homeless guy who would drop trou no matter where he was and shit if he had to, and I feel sorry for you if your foot was in the way! There was Chadwick, the token white guy who JJ and all of his friends robbed on a near daily basis in order to train for the more lucrative opportunities for B&E in the neighborhood, and then of course there was the rest of the alphabet crew, whose job it was to kidnap my dad and make him smoke crack for free at their house in beautiful South Kansas City.

Riding the bus down there was always fun as well, because you could sit by a crackhead, a homeless person, a prostitute and a mental patient and only be sitting by one physical person! Mypersonal favorites were the Bargainers: those intrepid souls who could not affort the 1 dollar fare and always asked questions like "How far will 68 cents get me?" their funk penetrating everyone on the bus in a most foul manner, totally hot. I always wondered how those people went to job interview after being almost physically smeagoled on, as they smelled like they had allowed Smeagol to rub his saggy balls most vigorously on their legs. It was also funny how well the Smeags blended in with the homeless and the vagrants, and yet how much he grunted angrilly when he was reduced to riding in public transit (which he liked to call "pubic transit" which usually illicited a little raptor giggle) with the common folk.

On this particular evening, we were on our way back from JJ's house, and were waiting on the bus. Jenkins moseys by, asks us for change, and then walks about 10 paces down the street and drops trou to take a dump. I ain't gonna lie, I watched, giggling like a schoolgirl in the process, and another vagrant moseyed by. He saw Smeagol, got a good look at the lopsided perm, and I guess was mesmerized. "Damn bitch you is fine" THis is not his exact words, I am paraphrasing as I was busy watching Jenkins shit and had not turned to see what was going on yet. Smeagol grunted angrilly, and tried to turn the other way, as if not looking at the vagrant would dissuade him from pounding him some green thonged north american raptor taint. It didn't work.

"What's yo name, girlie?"

"I'm a guy" Smeagol whined, sounding very much like a girl.

Monday, the conclusion, and my first product review.

No comments: