A new style Mexican pasta …
Grim Miggits will tell me about this next week. When I’m down at Chambley’s off of Bo-blimptock Street … where “Carla the Hatchet” messed with that guy’s aunt Terry. Bits of her left everywhere …
I saw a forwarding address for Flig.
Flig said “I’m going for a walk down by the Seattle Center … they say there’s grubbit’s meat down there …”
Grubbit’s meat? – that’s the stuff you scromp on while being chased by rat armies and cigarette demons …
But I’m still walking to Ned’s off of Hoopton …
He’s selling a “new style Mexican pasta” …
He says it has meat.
He says some of it was alive recently.
And I said “yum”.
I could imagine those animal fats moving solidly through my system, taking with them the forgiveness of an anonymous killer.
“That sounds like old time’y meat food …”
12 special ingredients …
- Broken Glass
- Diesel Fuel
- Street Protein
And I keep on walking.
Fucking Sound Cloud …
(I pay these incompetent fucks – well, one last year of that … unlikely next year … for a myriad of reasons)
How did you end up here?
I know you wandered around the desert, looking for old french fries … dried out and glistening from the re-hydrogenated baked-bean fat that Elvis had hidden in the studio?
How did you wander in here?
What strange breadcrumb trail did you follow?
How many empty nights did it take for all the current crooked rooks to steal your hope and replace it with aluminum sidings? Your foolish pill head friends stole your LEXUS … they drove it to Hurricane Beach and killed that waitress and dumped her near the culvert. The old rusty rebar, like a bad hairdo, bent over next to the shattered body … a smell of whisky and lost years in the air.
But you ended up in this world?
With caved in faces and old weak handshakes?
They will tell you “eat the weeds and drink the sewage” – because that’s where flavor country is …
FLAVOR COUNTRY … that’s why you ended up here …
The unkempt nerf herder stood firm, and made a poi from sweat sock skin and old shoe polish … and this is shoved into the open mouth …
Because you came here …
To flavor country.
You were labeled monkey-Bill, your horse was murdered to make tacos. The city men held court and sentenced you to death … in the great mill, where steel is formed into swords and wheels … and as you finish off your 100th year of service, a stellar guard of mungis-beasts leads THE profession of your corpse to the death yard …
And the cats are protein too …
So why did you come here?