Merry Birth the Horsie

wahahaha! i am krayzee. i am in pieces. i feel like spouting and mouthing cuss words on air. i am krayzee, man.

let's see if you can get wit it.

allan got us to hang out the most happening place mcdonald's wilson where the fries are the mostest but the ghosties are wandering and staring at your food and waiting for the vampire to eat them with her fangs and blood blodd bloody f*cking red lips like cinderella dundun dundun dundun. we were just chillin, man, sittin on the grey ledge like there was too many tomorrows in the atmosphere, feeding our brains with pulp and literary movements in time space warps. chillin, man. trust me. then big old birthday boy looking just like he did on his birth day, except 30 times bigger, bribed us with some fat and vacuum coco milk and chocolicious toxic syrup. he said, "let's ease on down the road to woodchuck east and hang with my (wo) man apple. let's see if she can get wit it." and ayn and i were like, "yeah, mun. we cool we tat." so we dis-ease on down through traffic to get wit apple, you know, cept she wasn't ready yet so we stomp on fake plastic poinsettias and put big fat frowns on salesladies' grey fuzzy faces. and ayn was like, "yeah, allan, we go back in time to get this funky little red number." and allan and i were like, "all right, dude."

so apple's ready and we get wit her. "ey, apple," we say and she says, "ey, dudes. where we feeling all hungry and moufalicious tonight? birthday boy gotta eat you know." and allan's like, "missy, we get wit lara first, you know, then ghooooeeeyyy and tintin tino, man." and we all like, "yeeeaaaahhhh. we cool we tat."

so we go get wet white whistle lara. and lara's like, "yeah" and we cool, we say "laralaralaralaralaralaralarayeah!" so we fly to tayuman in the magical mystical tour besta to get the baabaablacksheepalish tintin tino. and tintin's like, "Heyow!" and we're, "heyow!" so we all go straight to allan's because one and one make three times the fun for everyone. no ghoooooeyyyy. we come up to allan's and the four stooges are sitting on the curb with their potions of death and decay. mr. death himself catches all someday, says third eye open and they're right cuz he's there all longhaired and weird looking with his snout in the air. "roel," allan drools, "you go inside and stuff your fat face now," and roel says, "guess i will." charles and louie and john paul follow with charles looking oh so dandy and velvet-underground-y underneath it all.

and we stuff with indian poor man's rich man's yellow stew (yummy) and red worms with maggots. mmm, allan, we say, mmm mmm mmm mmm mmm. and he's like, sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff. doggie goes to hump a leg and his pink penis sticks out like a sore crumb. of course, mum's the word. and then kaye comes and we're like, "ey kaepyas," and she's like "oi" and all quiet for a while but then she thinks back on her lesbian days and gets all mushy and pretty and soggy and crispy and just plain cute (like she always does). eezle peezle weasle and the cake comes out like the expected surprise it is all brown and melting and full of tokwa. blow out the barrel and roll out the candle... make a wish for each sad little queer you're afraid of, allan, and he's like, "dammit to hell, i'm happy," and on the fourth try he finally kills that godawful flame. stuff stuff all sorts of stuff... ow, tokwa.

then the videoke.

then friends from the beginning of time, from just right before the Big Bang happened. Sharkey's, anyone? yes, two lumps for me, please. and crispy sisig.

good birthday, huh?

we cool we tat.