God And Drunk

I wish I had a taste for drink. I quit smoking, I ain't got a TV set, no Internet, and I think I saw a mouse in the kitchen. I would get sloshed every night if only I had a taste for tippling. But I do like the sex (I never got my fair share. I tried complaining to the Board Of Sex, but then I found out that it was just a board up on Church street where prosties lay out a board in the middle of the street and then work you. I don't need that.

I want a refrigerator filled with treats, lots of books, a radio, a girl to come in twice a week to clean the apartment, and a better attitude. And money. When I win the lotto, and all of my folks appear at my door for a "visit", I'll just pull a Jimmy Stewart on them and say "hey, listen, its not like the money is here. It's at the bank and in some stocks and bonds, and in Joe's house, and the Kennedy house. You've got it all wrong. Its not like its in the back in piles (it really would be...keep still). I love you all, and I want to share my most wonderful luck with all of you. Here's a number you can call to speak with the person who has the money right now. Call him, and see what's what? What What?

And in the meantime, I would have the biggest damn bed in Norfolk, free toilets all over the house, ice cream sandwiches, in a circle on my bed, and the book I'm reading now about the telegraph and telephone.

I don't need much anymore. Its been four years since my TV went to hell. Two years since my computer at home vomited and lost the Internet, and a year since I said bye to my home email. So now, just give me the money, ice cream, books, and a big bed with toilets all over the house. Wanna make me happy? I know all of you, all the world over, do. So leave me now. I got my dick stuck in a jar of pigs feet.

Don't ask.

Joey