Untitled
[10:07pm-Kevin Sheilds Memorial Rooms, NYC]
As the sound of Alien Ant Farm shears across my eardrums and into
my hypocampus - I am finally reminded of what it was that brought
me here. I was at the gig to fuck Sally Jacobs - but then wasn't
half of New York City?
Sally Jacobs- that hardbodied cock teaser, could she really be old
enough to be my mother? I often wondered whether Mom was old enough.
The lead singer dressed all in black (oh grow up, that's been done
before) stops to curse and mumble at the idiots, contageous with
their mosh-prayer to him. And suddenly, there she was. Ms Jacobs,
was resplendant in red pumps and mini-mouse hotpants. She sparkled
and dripped sensuality as she stroked her way around each crowd
member. She was wearing a 'Penelope Pit-stop' t-shirt, with her
nipples clearly poking through. God, how I wished she'd have my
eye-out with them.
[1:29am]
After striking up converation with the exquisite Sally Jacobs, it
did not take me long to invite her back to mine. She was dismembered
before she was even missed. In fact she was kissed, pissed (off),
then I watched her piss herself in fear, then Lizt (some plonky
'pee-anow' shit to drown her out, God could she scream) - before
she was missed.
[3:20am]
What is wrong with me? Why is she still on my mind, can I still
taste her? Yes.
I need to take a shower.
[3:27am]
Rinse/lather/repeat, never/taste/defeat, until/your/en'mies/wasted,
and/kissingat/yourfeet.
You are a sick sick puppy Jim, I thought to myself. It's just a
good thing that Rosie doesn't know - other wise she'd kill me.
Rinse/lather/repeat.
Oh, and maim...
Rhys Thomas
(with apologies to Brett Easton Ellis)