All Over It

I have a hurty head. There was something very wrong with the train car I rode on the ride home. It made this noise you see. I'm not quite sure if I'll be able to accurately describe it, but I'll give it a try. Take a violin and a trumpet and mix them. Not the instruments themselves, but the sounds they make. Mash 'em up using a substandard synthesizer. And make sure that neither instrument is in tune. And that both out of tune instruments are out of tune in different ways so they ain't in tune out of tune, if you dig. Then take that ugly sounding synthesizer and hold down the second highest key. That, kinda, was the sound the train was making.

It hit me and hurt me right where the skull meets the spine. The Skine. Or the Spull. Take yer pick. I don't know which one I like better.

And then, when the train stopped, I walked through a cloud of stink on my way to the train's door. Ladies, when you apply your perfume with a ladle, it is no longer an 'exotic scent' it is an 'unholy stank'. Just a little FYI.

But there's one more reason for my non good head. One of the kids today slapped me in the temple. Just out of fucking nowhere. We were doing the usual interview thing when we just slams his hand into my head, knocking my glasses askew. I am so proud of myself: I didn't harm him in any way. Rather, I grabbed him by the shoulders, said four words in a very serious voice: "No!" and "Say you're sorry!" I didn't let go of his shoulders until I was sure he meant it. If that had been my own kid I would probably be talking to a lawyer right now.

A lawyer who would hate my guts, think me lower than a impotent snake's penis. He would agree to defend only because he could then not win the case. I would end up being sodomized by a bunch of angry, angry convicts. But their penises would be small and not all that uncomfortable. And I would finally be able to say that I've had sex with an Asian.