mailbox.

treats!!
my ninjas all know i love to get some treats!
i got some in the post today.
so you know that i spent the day in a well fresh mood.
so good.
and for the first time in a little minute,
it was something i did extra-nice for myself.
a little indulgent masculine collector's cache.
so MANLY.
check it:
the brand of this pipe?
there isn't one.
the sandblast looks like a bomb-blast,
and it's fatter than it would ever need to be.
there's a stamp on it's side.
it just says: CZECH.
nice.
some scary gypsy picked up a new hobby, i guess.
i wish he hadn't left the scary tenon-bit in the airhole.
watch your A* when you F* with those czech duders-
czech yourself before you wreck yourself.
that's how it goes.
still,
i like it a lot.
because it's molto rough, and molto stout,
and that's how i get busy.
when i put the fattie-boombattie bit between my teeth,
i feel as though i should be smuggling prostitutes
out of mother russia in a wagon,
while my partner plays the accordion.
this pipe evokes some serious sh!t, y'all.
but
the treat festival didn't stop there...
peterson.
of dublin.
sexy.
that's their newish 'shamrock' finish.
light, bright, and tight.
more 'rock than sham- i think.
this one exudes some vibes.
it makes me feel more like
graveyard sittin',
and thinkin' about some warrior poetry.
it's smaller in size,
and rusticated, not sandblasted.
which really just means they put the chisel to it.
and that's pretty dope, too.
but wait,
there's STILL more...

uh-huh.

this mutha-b!tch is huge.

and deep.

and shiny.

(that's what she said)

more peterson pipe works for your face!

a special edition st. patrick's day 2010,

double-deep, dope, dirty,

bird's eye & flame grain bowl of briar.

that's some hottness, for sure.

the silver stamp tells you what time it is.

as long as it's march 17th, at drunk o'clock.

no doubt my copious collection of leaf-burnin'

barbarian battle cannons for my face,

just got a whole heckuva big ol' bunch more rad.

***********

pizza night at the overpriced hippie pizzeria,

flatbread,

with my buddy beau the barbarian,

and our teacheriffic confidante casey,

also got poppin',

and we stuffed the F* out of our faces.

before that, a whole bunch of scandalous

low rent tatzappin' error also got started,

but nothing quite measures up to the

savage smokestacks of sexy i got in the mail.

smoke ring ghost rings of spirit and memory

will fumigate the Fortress for a fortnight.

smoke doesn't make noise,

but i do;

never quiet, never soft.....