I was there at the beginning, when the first corpuscle came ashore, heaving. I was there when they said many a mouthful, more than enough for a month of sundays.
The word was, she would bend over backwards to do you a big favor. He was a unitarian from the get-go, they said, and a pleuralist for the tobacco lobby. She was declared queen of the countdown at T minus 10.
He never knew his place, but they always set him a spot at the table. That shit-eating grin was as plain as the nose on his face.
She could smell a rat, as the snake was her mascot. She didn’t know what she was looking for, but she’d know it when she seed it. The rest is history.
I was there at the end, when the last act of legerdemain petered out. I raise my glass to the good old days, and pray to google that my very words might be immemoralized. Or at least kept in the cache at the national security agency, until the clouds begin to gather.
They gave him gas, they gave him heartburn, they gave him headaches, but he couldn’t stop eating popcorn.
The autopsy revealed high levels of THC, a few crystals of ureic acid, and a receipt from a dentist in Tijuana for seventeen hundred bitcoins.
His brain was donated to the Brain Trust for an undisclosed tax receipt.
The odd relic of his half-remembered life was licensed to appear in an upcoming blockbuster.
His heart was donated to the Heart Foundation, beating all previous donations.
His feet, minus the baby toe on the starboard foot, were burned in effigies.
His liver was transplanted into former president Jimmy Carter, giving him a couple more years of life.
His balls were knocked out of the park when Paul Bunyan pitched a no-hitter.
His stick comforted the duchess of Glosterchershestershire in her bouts with depressions.
The whites of his eyes served as target practice during the American Revolution.
The CIA examined his sublingual proclivities, but they proved to be unsuited for any future needs.
Genghis Khan or Hopalong Cassidy ?
Genghis for centuries has had a fearsome reputation because of his large-scale slaughter of conquered populations. Numerically, not approaching modern levels, but proportionally, near extinction for the clandestine cohort .
Hopalong, on the other hand, had a wooden leg. Rude and rough in his youth, he grew up to become a clean-cut, sarsaparilla-drinking man of many attributes. He was the first man to legally marry his horse, in a barbershop in Omaha. Always a square shooter who would give a cocksucker an even break, he shot the chip off Roy Rogers’s shoulder, and Dale couldn’t suppress a suppository. Hopalong was featured on the first lunchbox to bear an image. More than 100 companies manufactured Hopalong Cassidy products, including children’s dinnerware, pillows, roller skates, soap, wristwatches, and jackknives. Life and limb, sink or swim.
I say that I might be accounted a scholar in that which follows, because it is not a controlled appelation. I might fight to the death anyone who says otherwise. And a scourge on your descendants unto kingdom come.
Choose your weapon and I’ll choose mine. A word to the wise: Don’t look over your shoulder. Or I in my Nietzsche and she in her Marx will bust on in on you like the devil taking the hindmost of the band of brothers. Don’t ask to see the details.