first thing in the wee small hours of the
deepest, darkest darkness before dawn.
you know:
rabbit rabbit.
spout it, shout it, flout it.
good miki-fikin' luck,
for your face, for my face, for everybody,
for the whole long cold month of november.
i doo-doo that compulsive repetition sh!t.
remember mona lisa?
c'mon,
obviously i mean the slick rick song,
and not the whoopi goldberg eyebrow'd painting....
anyway,
what was the best part?
...'it don't matter, see? i'm not picky-'
let me spell it out for y'all:
r for rad
a for activation
b for balls that need suckin'
b again, because i've got a lot of heavy duty clankers
i for i couldn't care less if you wanted to read about balls or not
t for turds.
yuuuuuuuuuuuuuup.
because rabbit poop looks like all-bran cereal!
hahahaha.
it's true, though.
consistent with the primal urge to spit out some superstitious sauce
and replenish the fickle nutrients of ephemeral fortune,
i awoke with a jump-start shock of wide-awake open-eyed
alertness, and said the spell that conjures up some
placebo-type nerve-soothing hottness.
but,
i also got up turbo early-shirley
because i've got to get ready.
that's right, neighbors.
today is the day, again.
all saints' day.
hallowmas, for your A*!
and you all already know what THAT means, right?
wait, what did you just say?
church? seriously?
what are you, a clown or something?
because you must be joking.
no, dummy, not church.
far from it.
it's my second blissful matrimonial anniversary, son!
correct.
me and my wifey, together an' sh!t,
for two lawfully wedded years.
recognize, duders,
the traditional gift is cotton.
awwwwwwwww, man.
that's weak sauce.
and considering i'm from the hometown of the inventor
of the cotton gin and it's hulling spikes of efficiency,
i think i've more than had my fill of that noise.
no, for real-
that duder could rock a cravat like the champion.
just sayin'.
you can't drink a cotton gin,
and i've already got underpants and sheets and shirts.
my textile and fiber supply is stocked.
i guess we'll have to settle for something else.
.....like a whole day of blistering excess.
you read it here first, yo.
too much is the right amount,
and it's the perfect fall day for an overdose of dopeness.
*
so, yeah, kids.
it is, in fact, my anniversary.
that means it's time to get molto activated
on that eleventh-level romance jauns.
i mean,
who wouldn't get activated by this much expertism?
killin' zombies in the style of the great gatsby?
wordimus prime, old bean.
hallowe'en is still dope.
we've got plans,
we've got missions,
we've got action items.
big busy business, b!tches.
we GOT they.
participation is assured,
togetherness is guaranteed,
and satisfaction is a distinct possibility.
goals and ends and outcomes, mutha-F*ers.
we're on that jam-packed work weekend
breakaway-type getaway action...
if you mincey mudpuddles can't hang out with romance,
you can get it poppin' like the two b's in rabbit.
oooooooh!
***********
two years on, legit and legal,
with a great many more before that-
i am still grateful for this perfect pairing.
the minutes matter more alongside my mrs.
fact.
spanning time, spanning space,
it's really happening,
and i couldn't be happier;
never quiet, never soft.....
No comments:
Post a Comment