08-24-02 - 4:16 pm
Today made me get sick on myself. I woke up dreaming that I was puking on Bette Midler. It made me so flabbergasted I could have punched out a four year old boy with my broken arm. I ripped off the sheets as the orange colored bile flooded my bare chest and boxer shorts. I felt like a mildly retarded gay monkey with some asshole's puke all over him, so I walked to the kitchen to get a bowl of Coco Puffs.
No one was there.
My head was pounding with some God awful song, "I Feel All Right, I Feel Just Fine, I Feel All Righ-igh-ight, And It's All Right". The Greatful Dead? Well, I'll kill 'em if they're not already.
There was no milk in the fridge so I poured yesterday's coffee into the bowl of rabbit shit. Margery walked in the front door of our crappy little apartment wearing nothing but a pair of my golf socks and a panty hose on her head.
"What in the name of Sweet Cracker Jacks Jimmy, what the hell are you doing?", I said.
She came over to yell at me but began vomiting in her own panty hose covered face as soon as my smell hit her olfactory glands. I laughed at her. She ran into the bathroom and slammed the door while attempting to swear at me through bile soaked panty hose. I heard the shower begin to run and returned to my breakfast.