Something
Told Me To Stay In Bed This Morning.
Did I listen? Noooooooooooooooooooooooo....
Sauntering down the hallway, eyes still partially crazy
glued shut from "sleep-pus-turned to sand",
it caught my eye. All my fears cascading down upon me,
my life flashing before my eyes, wanting to turn and
run, the tension building up around my eyes, the shiver
down my spine...
A dying Palmetto Bug!!!!
Upside down, kicking
his legs frantically like Fred Astaire on cocaine,
or a stage full of RiverDancers all rolled into one,
(take your pick), antennae whipping back n' forth
like two cowboys with lariats in a team roping contest,
and me, knowing I've got to find a way to get that
fucker off the floor and into the toilet bowl without
losing my marbles. I grab two napkins, a policy not
unlike the old double bagger theory when you're banging
an ugly chick. (Yes...in case one breaks).
Carefully folded the napkins in two,
essentially making it a four napkin deal, (that is
unless they're two-ply napkins making it eight napkins
which is fine with me).
If I happen to touch that
hideous thing (not THAT thing , I took care of that
before I got out of bed), I'll be washing my hands
all fucking day in chlorine, comet and Dial, which
is something that I'm glad I use and wish everyone
did. I gingerly (whatever that means) fold the napkin
around the monster, and slightly squeeze, fearing
the nauseating crunching sound and praying that the
subsequent dreaded occurence doesn't happen. Please
don't let it happen.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHH IT FUCKING HAPPENED!!!! |
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One Of The Son Of A Bitches Legs fell off!!!!
How the hell am I going to pick that
thing up??? That's like trying to pick up a dime on a
sheet of ice with work gloves on. I won't vacuum it.
Knowing that the dead leg is in the vacuum will freak
me out. I'll have to throw the vaccum away and buy a
new one. I'll deal with that later. Right now, job one
is to get this kicking bastard in the toilet bowl. Okay,
I position my hand in the "slam
dunk" pose, and THWAAACK....slam that fuck right into
the crapper! He then escapes from the napkins, and is kicking
and twirling around the bowl like Curly from The Three
Stooges used to do when he'd kick himself around in a circle
on the floor, yelling, "WOOH WOOH WOOH WOOH".
Of course the bug wasn't making that sound, but he would
have if he could have. I hit the handle, and flushed that
prick to Raid heaven. Adios!!! I went back to get the leg
and noticed the dog standing there. No leg. The dog ate
it. The dog did me a favor.
The dog gets a steak
for breakfast.
Well, thanks for dropping by. I hope you
enjoyed our little visit. I know I did. I look forward
to seeing you again soon. Next time, bring a piece of cake
or something. And close the damn door.
What...you were
brought up in a barn? xoxoxoxo
Mick Fazz
Mick Fazz is the lead singer, guitarist
and principal songwriter for the band Critical Mass based
out ofAltamonte Springs, Florida.
He can be contacted at fazz@metromusicmathem.com
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