In My Neighborhood #26

By John Sleestaxx

It was time for the yearly HOA meeting. The developer was to release another seat. The rest of the seats were two year terms as was this one so I was not in need of re election but I wanted a partner for the new seat. I wanted someone in the chair that would play ball and look out for the best interest of the neighborhood.
We were going over the old business and just finished reading the minutes from the last meeting. When Bono walked in, he was followed by the Edge and an entourage of ass-wiping, yes people and ego strokers that would leave any real politician in a state of koro so severe that he would run out of the room crying.
Bono tried to address the assembly but was politely reminded that this was the old business and any new business from the floor had it’s time and this was not it.
“I am sorry for interrupting” Bono apologized, “I just got here from an AID concert somewhere on the planet that was to benefit some oppressed global citizen somewhere not even near the concert and probably was not even interested in the music my band mates and I produce.”
“That is fine” Lee said “but..”
“I heard there was a seat on the committee of this community and I decided that I would like to be on the board.” Bono just spoke over Lee.
“The seat is for residents of the neighborhood” I interjected.
“Yes I bought two houses one for me and the other for my hat.” He said.
“Fine but we are still not to that part of the meeting.” Lee said
“I want to make positive changes in the community like I have globally.” Bono said. “I demand that this position be appointed to me. For I am Bono of U2.”
Everyone sort of shifted in their chairs when they realized that there was an asshole in the room.
Lee looked down at his notes and then to me. I shrugged.
Edge just leaned on the wall in the back watching the spectacle unfold.
Bono begins to talk about how there is too many houses and not enough green space and that what we need to do is tear down one house and put a park space on every street.
Henry gets all giddy like a school girl. Henry starts to bounce in his chair, eyes wide in admiration and star struck non-gay love for Bono.
Henry starts to ooh and aww over the drivel Bono is spewing onto the floor. So much so that he can’t help himself and he does not care that Bono is trying to take over.
“That would mean more animal habitats and more wild life, we need less displacement of the natural residents before we moved in.” Bono spoke to no-one.
Henry finds a pause in the diatribe and shoots his hand up and speaks in a nervous cadence “What about lawn art?”
Bono shakes his head and Henry sags. “No lawn art, but bird baths should be a mandatory artifact in all the remaining yards.” Henry beams with joy.
Just then Brit and Pink break into a fight.
Everyone starts to chant “Fight, fight, fight.”
They roll around on the ground knocking over chairs. They grapple and pull hair “bitch” “fucker”. They slap and gouge and begin to tear each others clothes, it was quite the cat fight spectacle.
Finally Bono breaks them up. He separates them and they are sitting on the floor legs spread and hair all a mess. He squats down between them and talks to them.
“You know there is too much rage in the world. Too much hate. And too much anger. The other night I had a dream. And I was on this space ship and I was taken into space and I was looking back on the world from afar. And I could see all the hate and anger radiating from the big blue marble.”
“And I could see how ugly the humans look when they are arguing and fighting. And this being an alien spaceship the aliens told me that we humans are the most primitive creatures in the universe because of our hate and anger. I wept and cried like a baby asking him to tell what to do and he said that I should play more of my music and make more albums because our U2 music is the most humanizing sounds anywhere."
Just then Pink and Britney started crying and they hugged each other and apologized to one another and then hugged again then the kissed. And the community gave a collective ahhh and clapped.
Then Jello nominated Bono for the new position and Sammie Hagar babbled something drunken and incoherent and fell face first into the ground. Rob Halford looks away and shakes his head.
We all kind of looked round because of the distraction. Since we were lost I tried to put us back on the rails with.
"Look we can't all just tear down houses and make parks. We can't just decide to let this freak on the board."
Bono starts to jump up and down and yell. “Who the hell are you? I am the great Bono and I deserve that position because I am Bono.”
Well I am the Great Reverend Sleestaxx. This neighborhood is mine and I am the sword and the plow of the lord.
“You should have no say.” He said.
“Yeah, I said this is MY neighborhood.” And at that Bono just disappeared. The crowd gasped and awed.
The Edge looked about.
“FUCK yeah! Finally the piece shit sheep shagger is gone man” Edge’s arms flailing, spit flying from his lips showing his passion and pent up rage. “If I had to hear about the world’s poor one more fucking time I thought I was going to fuckin’ puke. I just want play and drink and bed women.” Said the Edge.
“I “ The Edge continued, “am so glad the damaged fucker is gone.”
And Bono reappears in the back of the room.
“I “ The Edge starts to prowl around the rooms perimeter, “hated that bitch since I kicked his pussy ass in some pub in Dublin. Man he whines...” Bono taps the Edge on the shoulder.
“Hey Bono, and good to have you back it seems this reverend guy is a witch he made you disappear.”
And he made me talk ill of you while you were gone.
No that is fine I under understand now. I would like to request a position.
Henry chimes in "What about the bird baths?"
Bono looked to me. I shook my head. Bono said "No Henry that would not be prudent or in the neighborhood’s best interest.”






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

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By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 6 February, 2008..

In my neighborhood #25

In my neighborhood #25
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx


So it is early Monday morn. I figure it is early enough to get the paper while still in my robe. Robe and slippers, I go outside and there next to the paper is a heap of human parts. Not all bloody, but just a pile of a person. You know this sight when you see your parents passed out drunk on the living room floor enough times.
“Shit!” I think, “Damn! Somebody tied one on and got lost on their way home. I think I will leave them to bake in the sun. When they wake up and their head is pounding and their face is on fire from the noon day sunburn they will learn to not get so fucked up. I get the paper and as an after thought I decide to turn them over so they can get as much sun as possible because Vitamin Q is good for a hang over. As the live corpse rolls over onto its back I see that it is female. I brush back the hair and I see it is Paula Abdul.
I drop the paper and coffee cup and lift her so that I can bring her into the house. Even though she never made queen status she still deserves some mortal respect.
I bring her in and lay her on the couch, cover her with a blanket and fix myself a new cup of coffee and turn on the television and search for some morning cartoons.
I make sure to keep the volume down so the noise does not disturb Paula.
I find and old episode of “Spiderman”.
Then an old episode of “Autobots”, the undisputed godfather of the transformers, came on.
Half way through an episode of the PC whimp-i-fied GI Joe, Paula starts screaming.
I drop my coffee and yelp, “Shit!”
She sits bolt upright and looks around. “Hey where am I?”
“You are at my house” I said in a very calm voice, and I get up to get a towel.
“John? Right?” She says as if lost education is ebbing on her memory tide.
“Yes.” I replied.
“The last thing I remember was getting a call in the middle of the night and it was Janet and she was telling me I was fat and stupid. She said that I danced like a cow all stomping and hoofing around.” She said pulling the blanket I had laid on her up to her chin.
“Janet?” I asked more for affirmation then information.
“Yeah Janet Jackson.” She said as she let go of a violent shiver. “She has had it in for me since I tried to start a singing career while I was her choreographer.”
“Really?” I sounded like I did not believe her even though I tried to be more believable.
And Paula began her story. “Yeah I was helping her when she was starting and I gave her some of her best moves. When she found that I was working in a studio developing a record. She got real mad and tried to file an injunction on the record, but there were no real legal grounds even though she tried to portray me as an industrial spy. Then she got Michael involved.”
“Michael Jackson?” I said wondering how long the high lasts when you get toasted on scripts.
“Yeah and he called some heavy weights and they called in the corporate ninjas and they crushed my record sales by diverting orders and killing radio programmers who would not play ball.”
“When all was said and done it appeared as though no-one was interested in my music.”
“The record companies would not touch me. And I was black balled by the Jackson Clan.”
“I found a bottle of Oxycotton in my nightstand one night while I was depressed. I have never done drugs or drank before, but it seemed like a good way to make it all numb and go away. Next thing you know I am all fucked up on Idol. Yeah that back fired on them. That gig was a bone thrown to me by the Jackson Clan. They thought it, the show, would make one or two seasons and flop out. Little did they know it would balloon to such a huge success. I get clean and then some ninja slips me some pills and I fall off the wagon.”
“Wow, Paula that is an amazing story and almost believable, but as you know I am equipped with a very powerful bullshit detector.” I said standing up.
“No it is true.” She said pleading, “And Janet heard of my secret project to record another album and she has started the attacks all over again.” She said pulling her legs up into a ball.
“You know Paula if you want to get fucked up and wander the neighborhood then just get fucked up and start walking, but you do not have to make up stories of ninjas and career killers and Jackson conspiracies.” I said looking down at this frail, old, fucked up woman.
“No John it is true.” She says sitting up.
Just then the front door opens with a splintering crash. And Half Dollar piles in with two ninjas.
“Ninjas!” Paula screams
“Half Dollar!” I yell laughing hysterically.
I began my fight prayer, “Dear god make me strong to vanquish your enemies. Make them taste their blood like their sins and help them find their way to your grace and loving light.” And a column of fire rains from the sky through my ceiling and vaporizes the ninjas.
Half Dollar looks back surprised and shaken from the display of god’s wrath.
He charges raising an axe handle. I step up and into him just under his arm which removes the threat of the axe handle. I head butt him, he drops the axe handle and he grapples me.
We struggle in the foray and stumble around. Paula is standing and screaming.
Half Dollars breath is hideous. My god what had this fucker been eating? It was a cross between peanuts and morning breath
We bounce off the walls and into the nearby hall towards the half bath, decorated in romantic.
The room is small and the two of us take up most of the cubic footage.
I get the doorway to my back and clap my hands on his Volkswagen door ears.
He yelps and lets go, I step back and spin him. I plant a foot on his ass and shove.
He hits the wall bounces back and I kick again he lurches forward trips on a Persian throw rug and falls forward.
His hands are still on his ears and he falls into the toilet hitting his head. He goes limp.
‘Man what the fuck?’
‘Another dead star in my house.’
‘Shit! Fuck! Shit!’
“Oh no this is not happening.” I say out loud
“Paula is screaming.”
“No way am I going to deal with this shit again.” I say out loud to myself.
I start to drag Half Dollar’s body out the back door.
“What are you doing to do with him?” Paula asks.
“I am going to bury him in the back yard.” I grunt as I drag this 140 pound fake thug.
“But won’t he be missed?” Paula asks as the whole thing starts to sink in.
“No he is an irrelevant, dime-a-dozen rap thug that no-one loves or likes. Hell I just did the entire white teenage listening demographic a favor. Now they have one last choice to spend their money on.”
“I do not know if I can be a part of this.” Paula says shaking her head and shrinking back.
“What? Are you kidding? I never asked you to be a part of this.” Not believing the whussiness of this near icon.
“Shit tomorrow you will not remember today and no one will believe you anyways.” I said more mean than I meant to.
“That’s not fair.” Paula pouted.
“Its true enough though isn’t it?” I directed with the intensity of a persecutor about to stick the charge.
“Yes.” She looks down and fattens her lower lip like all girls do.
“Alright then the shovel is in the shed and the bag of lye is kept in a plastic bucket under the ladders.” I grunted as I slid the skinny little fake poser out the door.
“What do you have lye for?” she stops on the way to the shed.
“Ahh,” I paused. “I do not know, making soap and bio-diesel?”
“Really? That is cool and she shuffles to the shed.”
I spend a good portion of Monday afternoon digging. Paula disappeared around the first hour.
Half Dollar is buried in the back yard and now I am fixing the front door.
Johnny Cash would be proud of me but I will never tell him or anyone.
If this bullshit keeps up I am going to have to move. Regardless of the market.



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

Also reading

With A Mouthful Of Razorblades
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx
Release date: By 6 February, 2008..