EL CINCO ME MAYO or fucking near that
MEMO FROM THE DUBIOUS AFFAIRS DESK:
DAS MUTANTO EL DE DOMESTIQUE,
As I sit, in the smoldering ruins of the Lotus land, wiping the collective dust, dirt and smoke off of the tattered remains of my computer, I ask myself , what the fuck happened! The last thing that I remember with any great fucking clarity, is getting to the fucking airport, after that, there is only the fogged memory of a trip to Nawlins'. Wait! This is Nawlins'! Oh fuck! What have my Compadre and I done to this town of drive through daiquiries and twenty four hour liquor stores. This place is close to heaven, that a hedonist can find in this god dammed anal retentive Bush licking country! ASLFHASHFS Fucking crawfish!!! Where the fuck is my fucking Smith and Wesson!
A pause.
Thats right, it was confiscated by the airport security, they had an idea they may need it. fuckin' eh.
Where the fuck did I put that Austin? That'll take the edge off this ... Ah there it is.
EDITORS NOTE: There is a great pause in the tape here. In the background, the sound of a cork being removed from a bottle and a great deal of gulping is heard. A burp, a crash, and then a thud. The narration started again much later. Thank goodness we gave him a voice activated recorder.
Jesus, what a kick! Woah! Shouldn't of slamed all thoose fucking cherry bombs, that everclear and 151 stay with you for one hell of a fucking half-life.
As my Compadre slowly slithers into the realm of neo-human conciousness, I ask myself what the fuck is going on in this piece of shit, that we call a country! There is a vague recollection of a video tape of a bunch of fucking happy go lucky cops, beating the fucking living shit out of a black man! But wait, wasn't he just a raging animal, hell, that was what the fucking defense asserted. I think not!
WAIT! a moment of clarity has crossed my ragged and deranged mind! I need Austin and I need it now!
EDITORS NOTE: As before, there is silence and gulping. The tape continues.
Now let me see if I get this right, it is a bit hazy in all this destruction. You take four lilly white, Leave It To Beaver looking cops, accused of beating a BIG black man and you have the trial moved to the fucking lilly white suburb! Then you take an all white jury. Is this a fair trial?
But I digress.
My Compadre is starting to show signs of locomotion. We must now stagger to the airport and get out of this burnt out shell of a city, and go to another burnt out city. This town offered us the far reaches of carnal and libatious pleasures, AND WE HAVE NAWED IT TO THE FUCKING BONE!!!!!!!! I just hope that the plane has some serious fucking restraining devices! For my Compadre and I are on the verge of a serious psychotic freak out. That should prepare us for the return to the Beruit, or is it Baghdad of the west.
EDITORS NOTE: The tape was sent to us in the putrid remnants of an airsickness bag. From what we have been able to decipher from the various police reports and federal investigations, is that the author and his Compadre were removed from the plane in Texas. As they were removed, they were screaming that Perot was the Anit-Christ. Which is a death penalty offense in the state of Texas. Our lawyers are working to free them on an insanity defense.
TO BE CONTINUED?