In My Neighborhood #7 Rev. J. Sleestaxx

My son came running into the house the other day “Dad, Dad KISS just moved in.
There is no way they can not afford to move in this neighborhood they are all destitute look at Gene on TV pimping himself with Donald Trump

No dad I heard them I know they moved into the backside of the subdivision
I do not believe it!
Just then an old beat up Chevy van from like 1975 drove past the house with some screaming punks inside.
I look at them they are playing a KISS song out of the stereo speakers that are probably just old stereo speakers that are blown out, because the song is flat and tinny.
My son goes “see dad I told you"
No son that is not KISS that is Red Kross. They are a punk slash KISS tribute band and they are not moving in they are just running around here to cause trouble.
I will have to contact Lee Ving and have him get the constable to run them out because once you get one tribute band driving the streets your and up with horrible terrible copy cats cluttering up the street bring done the value of all the fine homes.
Just as Red Kross was making their second or third pass Gene and Paul Swooped in from the sky riding their secret superpowers that were bestowed upon them from the Norse gods of rock.
Gene and Paul land in front of the van and Paul shines his beam of pure love at the van and the van screeches to a halt. Gene breaths fire into the sky and shouts, "Let’s rock!" and the van comically falls apart in the middle of the street.
Red Kross falls to the ground and they look up as Ace Peter show up. Red Kross begins to faux pray to the members of KISS "We are not worthy, you guys are our heroes"
Ace steps up and says "you are diluting our brand and causing customer confusion. You need to stop!"
Just then a group of savage ninja warriors dropped from the heavens and served the band of teenagers with writs, summons, pleas and orders of injunction claiming false use of brand and defamation of character and obscurification of liability.
Peter the ever soft one of the foursome knelt down to the boys and explained,
“You see we have spent four decades building our image and corporate empire, we have recycled recordings and shuffled song lineups to keep the illusion of fresh content for nearly half a century and in one fail swoop you could cause the entire house of cards to collapse by just performing our music. If the audience realizes that anyone can play or songs just as well and then they realize that all of our albums are just the same songs over and over again they will realize that we have pulled a fast one over on them.
Henry came charging out of his yard with “Tribute bands are the sincerest form of flattery in the rock world, and if..”
Gene bit Henry on the shoulder. Henry yelped, “Dude, Why did you have to go and do that?”
Ace stepped up, “You see we can not afford to loose any of our KISS Army as they are the ones that keep buying our action figures, lunch pails and records. And then they might start doing their research and realize that Double Platinum is really KISS Alive II with the audience mixed out.”
Red Kross began to explain that they were just really, really, big fans of KISS and that they were just trying to keep KISS alive while the band was busy spending their billions on drugs drinking and women. And that they did not really know any other songs.
That is too bad you youngsters. We need our cash and you will not kill our cow!
Then the Butthole Surfers came screeching around the corner the smoke from Elvis Presley toe nails billowing out of the car. The car was so filled with the smoke that the surfers could not see the meeting in the street and the entire lot of them got ran over.
There was a huge fire ball explosion that equaled the heat of the sun and then it was all gone except for the dust and ashes of lame fake musicians that just ended their existence on the street.
I looked at my son. “I told you KISS did not move in.” And I spun on my heel to go back into the house.
“Hey dad, aren’t you going to do something about the mess?”
“No son, One day a rain will come and wash all the trash and scum off the streets and it will be the same day that God looks down and sees the mess he has created and then all will be as it should be"

Currently reading
Like A Monkey With A Handgun
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 3 December, 2007

Foreign Gifts and the broadcast of the future By Reverend John Sleestaxx

Have you ever been given a gift that you felt you deserved but when you got it you could not do a damn thing with it? Not only that you could not give it back. You were stuck with it and for what ever reason you have to carry the damn thing around with you forever, cursing the gift and the fucker that gave you the gift.
The other Friday I woke up with a splitting headache.
There was a ringing one ear and in the left ear was an annoying buzz I had no idea what the hell was happening. I figured this was the effects of the dog meat I ate at the beginning of the year. Something like mad dog decease or another infection of whip worm.
Then as the week went on the pain be came a dull pain and then the buzzing began to become more rhythmic. Not pleasant by any stretch but at least I could tune it out. but at times when I forgot that it was there it would get loud and remind me of it's existence.
Then this Saturday, nearly two weeks later I am at a flea market looking for a bargain. I stopped by a guy’s table to look at ancient fertility statues from Africa. You know the type long skinny African females with big pointy boobs. I was smirking and about to laugh out loud thinking about the poor man statue that has to have sex with this woman. He climbs onto her and dies from a puncture through his heart.
The table next to the nudie statues is a card reader slash psychic. As I turn we make eye contact he burst into tears. WTF! Seriously, huge body racking sobs. This guy is 450 pounds if an ounce and gayer than Boy George. He was wearing an Adam Ant concert shirt.
Anyway, he sobs out loud and clutches his crystal ball and looks into it. And then looks back at me.
“Stop” he says, “You are in need of information.”
“No” I shoot back with pained venom eyes, “You are in need of information and that information is I do not believe in your version of reality.”
“No you have a headache and a chanting in your ears.”
“Ok you got me now, but it is not a chanting.”
“Yes it is, you just do not understand. You have been given a gift, actually two gifts.”
“What he hell are you talking about fat man?”
“Do not be rude.” my wife says.
“Ok” I look at the guy, “What the hell are you talking about queer bait.”
“You have been given two spirit guides and they can not get you to pay attention, you are ignoring them.”
“What the hell are you talking about Twinkie fairy?”
“You have two guides that can connect you to the spirit world. Like John Edwards.”
“Fuck off”
“No seriously, and I am not going to charge you for the names. They are Rajkumar and Izumi Sarkaio. They were given to you so that you may commune with the dead and speak to other celestial beings. They are yelling at you to pay attention.
“That is crap! Commune with the dead? Bullshit! Like I need to talk to the dead? What have they got for me they are dead! ”
And the buzzing got so loud I thought the world had stopped. I spoke their names Rajkumar and Izumi and the buzzing stopped. I lurched forward like when a subway train stops quickly.
The fat physic began to babble about getting in touch with these two and making a change in the world.
I was just glad that the noise stopped and my head no longer hurt.
So you all now see that I have a psychic guides and I am like John Edwards. I can not speak Hindi. I can not speak Japanese so I have no idea what these two nitwits are saying to me.
I just know that when they start screaming I stop the car. I do not know what they are saying but I do not want a meteor or something to slam into my truck. This has made my morning commute to work very, very hard and I have made many, many enemies on the road.
I have developed cravings for Indian food and Sushi and I notice that my clothes are not nearly as red as I would have liked.
I went to buy lotto tickets, but the screaming nearly made me pass out. Two foreign dead people in my head screaming numbers or curses at me in a foreign language is just too much to bare.
My doctor thinks my request for Vicodin and Oxycodone is an addict thing and has prescribed a rehab evaluation. This may not be a bad thing because if my employer lays me off I can say it is because I have a disability and they will have to give me my job back.
But the native tongue thing is pissing me off. If your are going to be in the head of an American you should at least learn to speak American
I wonder if having the foreign spirit guides entitles me to dual citizenship or if I can claim to be another race.
You know I never asked for this thing and under that circumstance you would think that I should be able to turn these two idiots off until they learn to speak my American language.
The future is now
The future is two screaming nut jobs
The future is not knowing the lotto numbers
The future is broadcasted from inside my head
The future is knowing the future in another language.
The future has been out sourced.

Currently reading
Like A Monkey With A Handgun
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 3 December, 2007

In my neighborhood #6 By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

This morning in my neighborhood the power went out at like 6 am. Thank god I was already up because I did not want to be late to work.
 I have already shaved and brushed my teeth and was about to shower when the power went out. I showered in the dark I think I know my old fat body well enough to shower in the dark. lulz
 Anyway everyone was there to fix the power. The cops had my street blocked off. The garbage men were there as it was garbage day, the cable guys were there as they had to reroute some cables and shit. The gas man was there as they felt that maybe the gas line was in jeopardy if they had to do some digging.
 Something like 50 people crowded around the manhole cover in front of my house. Only 5 of them had orange hats the rest had white.
 Pamela had come over to ask for some candles. We talked about the power being out and how the last time this happened she went to Wendy’s door for candles and the "bitch" had handed her two sticks of dynamite. I laughed at the joke, but Pam still does not find it funny.
 Rollins was screaming about living off the grid and some stupid shit like that.
 Mc Hammer was in his pajamas drinking a cup of coffee. Or maybe he was wearing a new outfit. I have the toughest time telling the difference.
 I gave Pamela some tea candles and I closed the door. I got dressed for work and thought that maybe I could get the cops and everybody to let me out of the drive way.
 I was about to leave and there was a knock on the door. It was Johnny Cash. I opened the door and he began to babble about the inconvenience of it all.
 Just the some guy poked his head out of the hole in the ground and pointed towards my house. There was a long discussion and the supervisors turned to wards my house.
 so here I have a cop, a cable guy, a telephone repairman, a gas line supervisor and construction looking dude walking up to my house.
 I totally back grounded Johnny for a minute and he knew it and turned around.
 “Damn it!” he says There are too many people to fix this shit!”
 “What” I ask
 He says, “There are too many witnesses to stop the Village People from moving in.”


Currently reading

Like A Monkey With A Handgun
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 3 December, 2007

The running of the pigs. By J. Sleestaxx

In my area we have a very affluent neighborhood/development carved out of the woods
10' easements of dense packed trees between street and sidewalk and then between sidewalk and development including strip centers, gas stations, and houses.
This is a beautiful but it comes with a price. You do not know where anything is and if you own a business you have got spend a fortune on neighborhood flyers instead of road signage.
I like it and if I could afford to live in some of these neighborhoods I would. I like trees. I am not a tree hugger though I just like trees.
Any ways along in these trees is sidewalks and these sidewalks are mapped out into loops or tracks so that one can run, walk or bike and know about how much they have traveled.
I was doing some road work. Look at me trying to make it sound all important. Since I have quit smoking I have decided that I want to run a marathon. I know I have to start slow so I decided that by thanksgiving I will be ready to run a 5 or a three mile. My real goal is to run the 5 in 6.5 6.75 minutes or the 3 in sub 6.
I have found that treadmill running is very very different that road running. In the gym I can run 3 miles, but on the road well very very different. I have this crazy pace that left alone I will try to run and it is like a 7.5 minute mile pace. Do not ask me why it is just the comfortable pace at which my body does.
So I am running on this 2.6mile track in the woods after dark. I have run at least a mile without stopping and I am feeling the road in my shins. But I keep going thinking that the next block I will stop. I know I am lying to myself but it gets me to the next block.
I am on a long stretch of wooded space and I hear noises in the brush. I figure a squirrel or a raccoon but all of a sudden out charges a little pig, did I mention that my state is full of feral pigs/hogs. No seriously they tear up your front yard looking for truffles unless you have a dog. This piglet is about the size of a miniature pug and I jump it, no big deal right?? Wrong this piglet has a brother who decides to jump out just in front of me and I land on this pig it squeals and five more charge out of the brush. I stumble and kick them and trip over them and they all start squealing. I yell shit! God damn it! And all of a sudden this big mother fucking hog comes out of the brush at me all snorting smoke and breathing fire and calling my name, "John Sleestaxx you have done it now. You sir are going to hell." it says.
Aw fuck!
Lasers start shooting out of its eyes and sparks are flying from its little piggy feet as he bears down on me.
I turn to run, my chest a tight mass of smoker lung and pain. My legs are now the consistency of taffy.
I start to run and the pig starts to run, screaming, "To market, to market, I got your fat pig here bitch."
Pigs can run 11 miles an hour I have already run maybe two miles and I was about to use the last .6 miles for cool down.
I have tears in my eyes I know that I am going to die if my legs do not start to run. I am going to die and they will find my body a torn ragged mess of pig left over’s. The doctor was right pork was going to kill me. Good bye world shit!!!!
Now I have this pig, whose name was not Jody but was a talking pig none the less, bearing down on my old fat smoker ass for stomping on her babies.
I was going to die. Yes I was going to die. I ran all the way to where my truck was parked and leapt into the truck bed and I expected the pig to run into my truck bumper. But nothing happened. I turned around placed my hands on my knees and wheezed and coughed phlegm spit snot I felt my heart it had stopped beating when the fucking bacon spoke my name, and apparently had not restarted beating yet. My vision faded and I though I was going to pass out.
But no pig, I had out run the monster.
I was faster that the evil pig from hell. I looked down I had blood on my foot and my knees were skinned and my hand had road rash. But I had made it! I was alive and I was not going to ever ever run that track at night again.
I danced in my truck bed the dance of victory. I whooped and hollered I even w00ted once and cried the tears of joy. Adding to the total of 4 times I have wept with joy.
I fell to my knees and waited for the strength to come back so I could go home.
Oh my time something like 25 minutes for the whole trip.

Currently reading

Like A Monkey With A Handgun
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 3 December, 2007

10 albums to fuck your head up to

Mr. Jones challenged my self to list 10 albums
Here they are in no order and probably fucked up anyways

Rob Zombie - Hellbilly Deluxe i do not know why i listen but i do and i listen at max volume in the can and i find my self screaming the lyrics at the light.

Black Flag - Jealous again. angry fucking angry, fast because thats what gets us off and short because that is how long the inspiration lasts

CRASS - Christ The Album. experimental, communal, nearly a religious experience for me at the time but now i think my hearing loss has increased because i can not see it any more

Bozo Porno Circus - Sins Of The New Flesh DVD some very weird fucking odd shit happens here and i all i can saw is that i would have never explored this genre had it not be by accident at

Motorhead - Ace of Spades You know i was born to lose and gambling's for fools but thats the way i like it you can not live for ever

Lewd - American Wino i had the biggest crush on the bass player and tried many time to be a groupie but always always failed to make the hookup.

Beastie Boys - Time To Get Ill. WTF can be said sharp witty funny and the best anthem to ever be written

ACDC - Back In Black although at the release of this album i hated the band and anything to do with these guys because their followers were always trying to run me down beat me up or they were just fucking with me too much of the time.

Tales Of Terror - Tales Of Terror although I was not in the band but this was a very strong influence on my life. I realized on their return from a US tour that things have changed and that drugs were a very very bad thing to fuck with.

Wire - Pink Flag odd weird and rough and raw loved the album so much i stole it from someone

Eater - The Album you know i saw this in my collection. i do not own a turntable so i can not listen any more so i sold it. This was one of the few that went out that i kind of regret even though i can not recall a single audio memory. Note - fire up Google tonight and look for some mp3s

Tank - Filth Hounds of Hades What can I say "Hated you for far too long, you're just so damn polite"

The Damned - Damned Damned Damned. With headphones on many hours listening to this so that the memories of how horrible my life was drowned out.

Currently reading

Like A Monkey With A Handgun
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 3 December, 2007

10 concerts/shows

Mr. Jones challenged me to make my list without dates so here goes.

These are the ones I think of today but tomarrow they will be different.

The Lewd at profilatcia 2000

Iggy Pop at profilatcia 2000

Agent Orange at club minimal

The Cramps at some rocker bar off J,K, or L I can not remember

Social Distortion at the crest

Black Flag At the Mab (this was Henry Rollins debut in Nor Cal and he was the scariest

thing i had seen yet

Carol Doda at the condor club

Pink Floyd at Sacramento Community College I saw them at Oakland but found the Sac outdoor

show to be the best experience.

Wall of Voodoo at some other thetre on K street

Rebel Truth at Profilactica 2000

Circle Jerks at tenth street hall

TSOL at tenth Street Hall.

Motor head in San Fransisco

Girl School at some rock bar. I got to see about four songs before my life was in danger and i had to leave. man narrow minded homo fucker faggots.

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Like A Monkey With A Handgun
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 3 December, 2007

10 Random things about myself

I was challenged by Cupid Kinky Boots to write 10 things and since i cannot rhythm worth a crap this week end here you go
1.)I am a real Reverend/Minister Ordained in the Universal life church.
2.)I am author of three books Viva la chicken (a hand written book that was lost in one of three historic moves), Like a monkey With A Handgun, Roadkill (banned in most countries under the animal cruelty laws)
3.)I have moved three times due to witness relocation
4.)I have caused more trouble than i can say (until the statute of limitations has been reached)
5.)I am married i love to be married others make comments that being married sucks but i do not
6.)I used to smoke and now i run a mile
7.)I umpire youth ball-bat sports games (and enjoy it!). I enjoy the conflict and stress.
8.)I like heavy metal, punk, industrial, pop,
9.)My death does not scare me. the death of a loved one scares the shit outta me and what my death will do to those that i love scares me.
10.) I hate cats.

Currently reading

Like A Monkey With A Handgun
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 3 December, 2007

(TWT) The Moral of the Story Is By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

(TWT) The Moral of the Story Is
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

I was thanking a clown for the add. this I found is a custom in the trailer park known as myspace.
I thought it was witty and I thought it was topical and related to my persona.

Thanks for the add. See you on Thursday. New sermon posted in the blog.

Спасибо за добавления. Увидимся в четверг. Новые проповеди опубликованы в блоге.

Dank für hinzufügen. Dich am Donnerstag sehen. Neue Predigt bekanntgegeben im blog.

Merci pour l'ajouter. Vous voir jeudi. Nouvelle homélie affichés dans le blog

Grazie per il aggiungere. Vediamo giovedì. Nuova sermone pubblicato nel blog.

Gen 17:14
Any uncircumcised male who has not been circumcised in the flesh of his foreskin will be cut off from his people – he has failed to carry out my requirement.”

Exo 4:25
But Zipporah took a flint knife, cut off the foreskin of her son and touched it to Moses’ feet, and said, “Surely you are a bridegroom of blood to me.”

Hab 2:16
But you will become drunk with shame, not majesty. Now it is your turn to drink and expose your uncircumcised foreskin! The cup of wine in the Lord’s right hand is coming to you, and disgrace will replace your majestic glory!

Mantenere il vostro protettore mano forte!

Keep your pimp hand strong!

I am full of hate and anger and ready to rumble.
Baptism Thursday is around the corner and I can not wait to thump the good lord into some sinners.

He answers back with this

“dude are you f'n stupid...??? im an evil clown. why the hell would i want any of that stupid shit that you send me to be on my page. youre dumb. burn in hell. you damn flesh puppet.

p.s. all your prayers will not help you when the gates of hell are broken down, and evil walks amongst us.

Satan rules!!!”

So I write him back because clearly he wants to flame war with me.

“Dear Mr. evil clown.
Surely you did not read the entire post and surely you did not read the Blog.
Some of the best stuff can be found in "making tomorrow better today" and the sermon "being a good steward."
Everything I offered in the post was of jest and joke.
And had you read the last line you may have seen the joke beyond your desire to offend.
I think you misunderstood the premise and theme.
Sorry to have troubled you.
You narrow minded moronic boob. Had this been in real time and in real life in a face to face I would have thumped you so hard you would have cried to your angry god for salvation and the only answer from your god would have been. "You mess with the bull you get the horns you dumb shit". Then your god would have asked me to beat you some more.
And I would have gladly beaten you until you had been baptized in your own fucking blood. And you cried like a little fucking girl clown

Rev J Sleestaxx

Nope he just refused to answer back. he knew he was out-matched, out-gunned, and out-smarted.

The moral of the story,
Some may ask to be your friend but they just want you to hump their ego and breathe like a tart in their ear.
No date, no drinks, no call in the morning.

Publish Post

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Like A Monkey With A Handgun
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 3 December, 2007

In the darkest depths of myself I have a monster.

In the darkest depths of myself I have a monster. This monster is the alter ego of yours truly. When rage anger and hate well up into the back of my throat and choke out any resemblance of reason and logic. The monster comes to life.
This is the time the monster bursts into my gray matter ravaging and screaming about the injustices that have befallen me over the course of my terrible rotten life.
This beast puffs and bellows to the point that all real vision is obscured and eclipsed. I begin to operate on "the force" I can not really see any more but I can "feel" the world around me.
My senses go on crimson alert. I hear every child being abused, I hear every women being hit. My whole body is aflame and I very calmly beat the living shit out of people.
I say calmly because they can "tap" out. They can feign unconsciousness and they have the option to not get up.
For some reason they think they should keep moving, they feel that at some point they will get the upper hand. They are wrong. Christ they are wrong. And when I am done they will know they were wrong for weeks and weeks.
Just such an episode occurred yesterday at the mall.
I was shopping for a pair of umpire pants heather grey with a nice cuff. They were going to be my field pants for when I do the bases so I can look a bit sharper. The season is starting in a few weeks
I was heading to Sears and I was passing a gentleman and his wife, who was crying, he turned and grabbed her arm real hard like and yelled at her through clenched teeth.
As he turned back into a forward position I slammed into his shoulder.
“Oops sorry.” I said.
“Watch where you are going asshole!”
“Now listen here you fucking piece of shit, you fucking retard with a small dick I said I was sorry”
“What did you say?”
“I said that you were a retard, you had a small dick, and I said you were a piece of shit and that I was sorry.” The biggest smile on my face.
He swung, I ducked and came up with an upper cut to the solar plexus, just below the breast bone, I felt my fist embed into the abdomen and he lifted off his feet and then fell.
I said “Do not get up. I will have to defend myself.”
He got up and said I am going to beat your ass.
No you are not and I began to box his forehead, his nose and his left cheek.
I jabbed and crossed and jabbed some more. I would stop and step back. He would totter and then he would lunge at me.
And I would do this again.
On the second lunge he more like fell on me and I threw an arm into the crotch and the left over his shoulder and I picked him up and slammed him to the ground.
He stopped moving his chest heaving and his woman crying.
She dropped to his side, "Richard oh Richard are you ok?" then she looked at me and said "What is your problem? He did nothing to you"
“What did you miss the part where he swung at me?"
“So? You did not have to beat him up.”
“Hey lady he gave him every opportunity to step down.” Came from some guy behind me.
I looked and there was a considerable crowd gathering.
“Fuck it and fuck you bitch” and I turned to go.
The crowd looked at me and at first was not going to part but I made a motion like I was going to charge and they jumped, what a bunch of sheep.
You see I have a monster in me. I like this monster and I enjoy visiting with the monster now and again.
I enjoy the buzz I get from touching the emotions that feed it. Why?? I do not know. Some freaks like pain. Some freaks like to inflict pain. There are some that like to see food being destroyed by pretty feet. I knew a guy that liked to wax his whole body and wear women’s undergarments. I like to get very angry. I do not have to beat anyone. I can just get enraged and enjoy the hot flush that covers my body. The heat that burns in my chest. Hell maybe I am a freak too. But who cares. Not you! And not anyone else.
Hate, anger, and rage is my porn, what is yours??

Currently reading

Like A Monkey With A Handgun
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 3 December, 2007

American Forces In iRAQ: Making America Safer or Less Safer

Some rants that I started and was interrupted too many times to finish and lost the momentums.

American Forces In iRAQ: Making America Safer or Less Safer

No! And I tell you why.

Humans as a race of animals are just that, animals.

Oh sure we clean up nice and we pretend to have compassion, but when we close our eyes at night we are thinking how can I get what’s mine, how can I get more I need more.

We are inherently evil we make rules to control the competition but the winners are the

Ones that ignore the rules. We have war'ed from the time we crawled out of the sea to just one minute ago. From the zombie soccer moms that cut me off to the leaders of mulit-national corporations playing Pepsi (a dice gambling game popular in high school 5 6 years ago) with the pension fund.

The leaders of the corporate world are all about preparing their retirement. It is not about innovation and focuses on the core business it is about the share holder and share holder value because they are the share holder they care about the most.

It is a club and they are all about taking care them selves and their frat buddies and piss on he rest of the fucking world.

How do I get what is mine and how do I get what is yours with out getting caught.

Currently reading

Like A Monkey With A Handgun
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 3 December, 2007

2008 is expected to be very interesting.

On January 1st I woke up with the dogs missing the taste of dog in my mouth.
There is a big black burn mark in my front yard. Something was definitely burned there. I can not even begin to imagine.
My neighbors will not look at me in the eye and some appear to be scared when I am outside.
Part of me says this is normal and that I should not worry.
But I do worry. Where are my dogs? why do I see strange images when I close my eyes.
Today a little boy was walking to the bus stop and when he got to my property line he sprinted past my house like Satan himself was chasing him.
When the paperboy knocked on the door I went to answer. He turned pale when I opened the door. Then he started to leave and tripped and fell. I know he broke his ankle because I heard the crack.
If there was anyone there that can help fill in the gaps please let me in on the events.
I mean if there is something I did wrong I should know right?
If I offended my neighbors I should apologize right?
If I dressed in drag and roasted my dogs.... again... I need to replace them and start taking my medications and get another appointment ASAP.

Currently reading

Like A Monkey With A Handgun
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 3 December, 2007

In my neighborhood #5 By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

We (we being the neighbors and my family) do not hear a single peep.
Rollins had invited us over to celebrate the New Year entrance and since Rollins is a non-drinker and that is the type of environment we want for my son we said yes. Kidd and Pam were having a block party with a petting zoo and a clown act. But Henry had already invited us and the no drinking thing also was a plus as my son is now at driving age i want to show him that fun can be had without drinking.
What I also found out was that Wendy was going to be at Kidd and Pam’s party and Henry was still miffed about the bird bath so that is why he decided to have a party at his house. Along with him sharing some of his new spoken word bits with us he also shared his political view with us and he complained about “the Nazi government” that is the HOA. Man did he bitch about that fucking bird bath. "Man why did Wendy have to get involved", "why did Lee Ving have to hire the immigrants", "illegals" I corrected him, "you know the bird bath was an expression on my individuality and my non-conformist personality facet. It was just like having a Mohawk but for the front yard". bla bla bla bla.
You ever work in a cube farm?
And everyone is talking and soon after a while all the voices begin to sound more like a buzz or a drone? Yeah he was sounding like that. buzz buzz buzz
"You know if we punkers could have owned houses back in the day the HOA would not have gotten such a foot hold."
"We are being denied our right to free yard expression, we are entitled to express our individuality and the HOA is forcing us to all look the same."
Then there were gunshots and screaming. And then more gunshots.
My wife says, "I hope everybody is ok" and I am thinking ‘hey, he stopped talking”, did a stray make its way over here? Am I that...
"Damn” Henry Exclaimed, “I knew Tee was going to be trouble when he moved in."
"Nope, not lucky enough." I thought
My son asked "who?"
"Ice T moved in behind me six months ago. You know that new house next to Britney and Pink."
"Ice T the actor from Law & Order Special Victims Unit?" My son asks
"Yeah but once he was a gangster rapper" Henry tells my boy "and pretty hardcore too, in fact he was so hardcore many of his shows had to be canceled because the cops hated him for a couple of his songs." "Like your father and I when we were hardcore punkers."
"But" I interjected "He is just a fat washed up spoiled actor type with visions of grandeur and a desire to recapture some of the glory days." I looked at Henry and he missed the whole thing. "He" I continued "Should accept the fact the as we get older we make concessions, and we agree that we made changes in the world, and the changes we made will be better left to the youth to continue and to change some more. All life is one long fucking changing cycle." My son rolled his eyes and Henry was going into the back yard to peek through the fence.
I followed Henry.
At the fence I see that Tee is in the back yard with a pistol in one hand and a bottle of wild turkey in the other.
Drinking off the bottle he staggers back and forth.
“Get back in the house bitch!” He screams at his woman friend.
“No Tracy comeback in”
“No” he says waving the pistol in her direction “I was a bad ass one time.”
“Yes baby you were” in a more mother tone than a hot date sexy voice.
“That’s right I am not any more I am just a washed up thug wanna be.” And he drops to his knees and swigs some more WT.
He puts the pistol to his head “I was a bad ass” tapping the barrel to his temple “I was a bad ass” and he begins to cry.
Henry speaks for the first time and I look at him "man that has to be tough. To come to terms with your past self like that. I am so glad we are still hardcore."
And I see a tear in his eye too.
He stands and hops the fence Ice T jumps to his feet and points the gun at Henry.
Henry throws his hands up "whoa Ice hold on......"
But Ice was clearly too fucked up to reason with and fired.
Henry stiffens and freezes.
He looks down at his chest and sees no blood
He runs his hands across his shirt
Ice drops to his knees and sobs "it was just blanks Henry"
“Oh good.” And he begins to sit next to Ice in the grass
He puts his arm around Ice and the woman goes back into the house shaking her head.
Henry says “Man you gotta get over this man. You are still a force to be reckoned with.”
“Yeah man you are a legend.”
“Man you fucking rock!”
“What are you doing here you should be putting your revival album together.”
“Yeah man! You could call it "On parole or resurrection!”
“Nah man I am too domesticated I am out of touch with the street man. Hey what’s that smell you smell that?”
“No man I do not smell anything. No man you can never loose touch with the street.”
Now I smell shit through the fence and I can barely hold the laughter in. The two are now arm in arm looking at the sky.
Henry leans in and whispers something in T's ear.
T looks at Henry and leans way back “Yeah?”
“Yeah man.”
“Really? “
“Would I shit you?”
“I don’t know you shit your pants.”
“Well you pointed a gun at me and fired it.”
“Yeah well I was a bad ass one time.”
“That's right and you scared me so I think maybe you are still a bad ass still.”
Then they just sat there and looked at the sky.
My son says “Hey dad it is midnight. Happy New Year.”
“Yeah happy new year son.”
We turn to head out
“Hey do you think we can still get to Kidd and Pam’s.”
“Yeah but your mother would not like it if Wendy was there doing the beer pong trick like last year.”
“Ahh man!”
Nah lets go home.

Currently reading

Like A Monkey With A Handgun
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 3 December, 2007