“See, Captain Amazing is this self-proclaimed ‘artiste of the century’; he makes his so-called art out of whatever he happens to have lying around, soup cans and his own urine. But he kills, somehow. He’s also one of the most outgoing fags I ever laid my eyes on, you dig? It isn’t just his threads or the way he talks, it’s the things he does. This cat would walk through a crowded bash and rub up against your ass, erection at the ready, just so you know he means business, ‘My, my, my, my. It seems to me that the divining rod just struck me some gold.’
“Of course, the guy would spin around to see who the faggot is, but he’d take the bait. Captain Amazing can smell a flaky from a mile away, and he’d be ready with the snort waiting for ’em. ‘All this just for a rim job? Who am I to refuse?’
“‘Well, a rim job for starters, but then we’ll talk,’ followed by a large guffaw.
“The thing that everyone seems to remember about Captain Amazing is his 9mm. For some reason, he compulsively packs this plastic water gun; you’ll never see him without it. And don’t expect Captain Amazing to only be armed with water; his little buddy is always loaded up with vodka. I really thought everybody was hip to it, but I remember some old paper shaker requesting a refreshing douche; that nosebleed was unreal, didn’t have a clue, ‘It’s not just a matter of hygiene, although it does make me feel clean inside. But I do find nothing more sensual before the act itself.’
“‘Lady, you have any idea who you’re talking to? Besides, in my expert opinion, I wouldn’t recommend…Actually, I’m sure this would clean you out nice.’
“Let me lay it on you, Amazing’s working the room, squirting everyone with his charm and spirits, ‘Oh-ho-ho, you cats like that jazz? Maybe I’ll introduce you to my other 9mm, the Royal Shaft,’ when this stuffed-shirt trots in.
“Captain Amazing won’t have that; if you’re near Amazing, you’re far from Nowheresville. He squirts the square with the vodka, ‘Think fast, Professor Blast.’
“Too bad this Ivy Leaguer’s got the jets to light up at the same time, ignites his face and shirt. Wrong place, wrong time; everyone’s too stoned to know what’s what, thinking it’s just a show or something. Once everyone’s in orbit, guy’s already got third degree burns all over.
“No moral to this story, just a little anecdote. And believe you me, I’d never seen burning flesh up to that point, but it’s really something; it sort of…melts, just like plastic.”
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
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