Breakfast Of Champions
Red eyed, dripping with sweat, and stinking of beer from the night before, I plopped down on the train next to an old man reading from the bible and pulled out an old Rolling Stone tribute to the late great doctor of journalism, which I've been slowly picking through for months, and began to read.
The magazine sent me an assistant, a tall, jittery young man named Tobias, who picked me up from the airport. "Welcome to New York," he said. "I have a present for you." He handed me a large gift wrapped box containing a hideous blow-up doll named Teri, according to the information on the box - which also said she had a "real-life vibrating vagina" and a luscious-lipped deep open mouth." There were other special features and a stern warning not to exceed her maximum 275' pound weight limit: or she might explode and disappear.
"You should see her tits," Tobias said. "They're bigger than Ginger Baker's head." He grinned idiotically and made a spastic jack-off motion, then loaded Teri onto the cart with all my other luggage. She was going to be part of our lives now. I knew she would be with us for a while, for good or ill. "Our car is right in front," said Tobias. "I'll have it brought up. The hotel is not far, and I am a very skilled driver. I like to drive fast."
Everything he said turned out to be a lie, but I was not surprised. I sensed there was something deeply wrong with him. He had no idea where the car was, and I sat on the curb for an hour and a half while he searched for the Lincoln, roaming alone through the bowels of the huge parking garage.
I sensed a nervousness from the man next to me as I read and giggled and noticed he was peaking over my shoulder. He eventually asked to be let out as his stop would be coming up soon. I suppose I felt a little bad as he seemed like a nice enough fellow. Just as he felt that what he was reading was what he needed to get his day started in the right direction; I too felt that what I was reading was what I needed to get my day started in the right direction.
Doom, $in, and myself put down a serious number of beers with the Around The Coyote folks last night. We told them we were professional drinkers. He he! We discussed Manchester, Dallas, Wicker Park, Double Door, Banana Republic, Joy Division, New Order, Cinderella, KISS, Three Dollar Bill, lavender tuxedos, free booze, The Worm, The Cubs, soccer/football, and much much more. This weekend we go to prom.
The magazine sent me an assistant, a tall, jittery young man named Tobias, who picked me up from the airport. "Welcome to New York," he said. "I have a present for you." He handed me a large gift wrapped box containing a hideous blow-up doll named Teri, according to the information on the box - which also said she had a "real-life vibrating vagina" and a luscious-lipped deep open mouth." There were other special features and a stern warning not to exceed her maximum 275' pound weight limit: or she might explode and disappear.
"You should see her tits," Tobias said. "They're bigger than Ginger Baker's head." He grinned idiotically and made a spastic jack-off motion, then loaded Teri onto the cart with all my other luggage. She was going to be part of our lives now. I knew she would be with us for a while, for good or ill. "Our car is right in front," said Tobias. "I'll have it brought up. The hotel is not far, and I am a very skilled driver. I like to drive fast."
Everything he said turned out to be a lie, but I was not surprised. I sensed there was something deeply wrong with him. He had no idea where the car was, and I sat on the curb for an hour and a half while he searched for the Lincoln, roaming alone through the bowels of the huge parking garage.
I sensed a nervousness from the man next to me as I read and giggled and noticed he was peaking over my shoulder. He eventually asked to be let out as his stop would be coming up soon. I suppose I felt a little bad as he seemed like a nice enough fellow. Just as he felt that what he was reading was what he needed to get his day started in the right direction; I too felt that what I was reading was what I needed to get my day started in the right direction.
Doom, $in, and myself put down a serious number of beers with the Around The Coyote folks last night. We told them we were professional drinkers. He he! We discussed Manchester, Dallas, Wicker Park, Double Door, Banana Republic, Joy Division, New Order, Cinderella, KISS, Three Dollar Bill, lavender tuxedos, free booze, The Worm, The Cubs, soccer/football, and much much more. This weekend we go to prom.
posted by utchmynitz at 10:48 AM
3 Comments:
we handled ourselves very professionally last night. some people have to work at it, but it comes naturally to us. we are drinkers.
are you guys going to tour around wicker park on the back of a flatbed during around the coyote?
that would be awesome.
Dude! I like that idea a lot! I met these guys from Arkansas years ago that did the Flying J truck stop tour. They set up a their amps in the back of a van and just pulled up to the truck stop and plugged in and started playing. They got as far as 3 Flying J's before the jig was up. Genius, I tell you. I'll suggest your idea to the staff, Tankboy. Thanks!
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