ocho, in a row.

guess what mr. hard worker did today?
yuuuuuup.
worked.
hard.
and loud and fresh in a way, as well.
specifically?
eight tattbombs, mutha-'uckas.
back to back to back etc.
oh, don't worry,
six of 'em were mostly words.
words, words, words,
blah-blah blabbity blah-blah.
rewards,
in the form of movie checks,
were the order of the day.
i mean,
it's only so fulfilling to basically
be a typewriter for six hours,
but the real filling part was the
fat flippin' wallet-type jauns, ya'll.
yuuuuuup.
art for hire, like a mercenary, an' that.
better yet,
a barbarian scribe,
tattblasting epithets on human meat pages.
whatever, neighbors.
i doo-doo that production line sh!t.
line 'em up,
line 'em out,
send 'em away.
snippets of stories,
names of gnarly ninjas,
what you want written, son?
i GOT they.
that's that grind-type business.
hard styles,
hard words,
and hot fire.
hell, even the oven is in on it.
that's real.
i've got a bushel of low-bush blueberries bulging
inside of double-chocolate, chocolate chip brownies.
that's nature,
and treats,
at the same time.
win?
...win.
 *
i zapped up a whole gaggle of loud,
opinionated over-educated lesbians.
yes, shawn, i know.
you would have popped the hardest one in the world.
they lost points, however,
for dissing on connecticut.
huh?
yes, actually,
connecticut IS totally suck-salad waterbaby sh!t,
but i'll only tolerate harsh words and hard hearts
if you're from there.
otherwise,
ninjas haven't earned the right to get righteous.
that's a thing.
blood, sweat and left-hand exits, neighbors.
if you don't know how to survive it,
you need to hush up on that noise.
fact.
here's to connecticut natives,
and here's to those who escaped.
real mutha-F*ers, y'all.
they do real things;
never quiet, never soft.....