Penis lizards doodle aliens and books

So I got these notebooks and o take notes, make business plans for business ideas, i.e.: free cell phones, fixing welfare,

Government  improvements, my running for office platforms; story ideas, research ideas and thesis notes (have I mentioned if I was in school you would have to call me doctor 5 times; shit goes on and on.

Sometime I get blocked in thoughts, I go back and revisit old ideas, old research, photobucket fusk, write some program flow charts and sometimes I just doodle

The other day I drew a squiggly line and another and then a loop and it turned into lizard flayed and splayed being interrogated by aliens.   It kinda creeped me out, I mean a lizard flayed and splayed being interrogated by aliens. It just seemed weird.

I changed the lizard to a penis, it's not that hard they are very similar, well mine is.

So yeah later I am in a meeting and I grabbed to wrong note book.

I now have a white book for work stuff and I tore out the damaged, flayed , splayed pinned to a board outer space penis drawing and set it on fire.

Yeah. That happened today.

Celebrity Predictions 2012

So every year I post a list of 10 or so possible public figures that may pass during the year and sometimes I am right and sometimes I am wrong.

This years list is;

Fidel Castro; This man has lived so many years in a country that has been erased from the news by the censors that we know very little about him but I do know he is sick and like his colleague Kim what’s-his-face in that little spit of dirt and jungle he too is running on fumes. God I would have liked to have been in that room when he pissed those people off. I mean seriously we made friends with Russia but it is still illegal to travel to Cuba? yeah pissed some muther fucking people off big time.

Michael Capellas; you can only take out so many mortgages on your soul before Satan comes looking for payment.

Queen of England; Finally her only heir that is not gay, is married to a nice proper girl. She can hand the throne over to a man and be done. I imagine it will be in her sleep.

Mark Hurd; just another fucktard that naked sells shares of his soul and satan is gonna make a market call and old Marky poo will be found empty handed and and in a corner. hope he has enough shares to cover the margin.

Lindsay Lohan; Remember Britney spears 3 years ago. yeah kinda like that but not as pretty. you can only imagine how this meteor is gonna pop.

Brittany Spears; She is on my list every year (it's kind playing the odds) This one may look like she has her shit together but she is still trailer park trash with money it is only a matter of time before the wheels start to wobble and fall off.

Barry Bonds; He lied, he cheated and he got caught. Now he is despondent and will never make the baseball hall of fame. what do you think?

Amy Whinehouse: Just because she scares me and my spirit guardians have said she is tired. (Nailed IT!)

Charlie Sheen; Another train wreck. not as good as some but a train wreck none the less. God loves drunks and little kids but his patience does run out look at the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah.

A half more dozen Occupy protesters; You can only put so many whinny liberal pacifists in one park before the predators and freaks smell the blood and start circling.

Dr. Conrad Murray; My feelings about that freak Michael aside, You can not kill a pop icon and live. Even in county jail they are gonna kill this man and eat his intestines on a top ramen pizza right there in jail and then skull fuck his eye sockets.

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..

Also reading

With A Mouthful Of Razorblades
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..

In my neighborhood #24

In my neighborhood #24
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx


The neighborhood does not allow garage sales every weekend. There would be certain individuals that would have a sale every weekend capitalizing on their name more than just getting rid of their unwanted junk.
Metallica, Slayer to name a couple. They would buy other peoples junk to put in their sale so people would buy Metallica’s old toilet or Slayer’s broken weed eater.
We have garage sales as a community twice to three times a year. This means that our neighborhood can look like a trailer park all at once. And only one weekend.
Today I had some stuff to sell so I bought a permit and moved my garage to the driveway.
Henry was on tour and he left me his keys. I piled his mail up on the dining room table and made sure that his two cats “Spoon” and “Mr. Snuggles” are watered and fed. And I grabbed some of Henry’s junk too.
Now do not get me wrong I grabbed stuff he would not really need. Like his African fertility statues, WHAT IN THE WORLD is a guy like Henry need fertility statues for and at his age? And those tribal masks that were really made in China that looked like dark boogey men faces.
I was sitting in the shade waiting for the traffic to sift down to my corner of the subdivision when I heard same yelling down the street. There is always yelling now and again, but this sounded like trouble.
“No Old man you do not know what you are talking about.”
Hmmm I better investigate.
I start walking down to the left by Hammer’s house. Hammer had quite a collection of jammies for sale or maybe they were parachute pants. I do not know but it was a large rack of them.
Living next to Hammer is Chuck Berry.
Chuck had some old furniture and old guitars out for sale. And a collection of bells, ceramic bells from all over the world. Chuck collected bells who knew?
At the curb was one of the new guys P. Diddy, John Paul, and some guy named “Half Dollar” and some skanky broad I have never seen before and Rihanna. They were all yelling up the drive way to Chuck.
“You old man,” Half Dollar yelled, waving his hands around like in his videos. “Are so out of it you think you know, but you know nothing.”
“Hell diaper boy I was in the pussy before you were coming out of your momma’s.”
“Leave my momma out of this.”
“Shit boy you walk around here holding your dick with your pants falling down. You do not know anything.”
“Hey, hey,” I interrupt “What’s the problem.”
P. Diddy tells me that they were looking at Chuck’s sale stuff and the Rihanna wanted to know about the old guitar and Chuck said he would make a deal with her. I knew what he meant and I called him out.
“No P. Diddy you do not call Chuck out. He will eat you alive AND make you his bitch. You have nothing on him.”
“Yeah you think so?”
“Yeah I know so.”
“Look I am sure it was a mis-understanding.”
“No it weren’t reverend.” Chuck yelled and I rolled my eyes. “I know my women, not like these shit stained little momma’s boys.”
“You have no concept of pussy, no concept of how to treat it, or tease it. You just want to own it, but what you don’t know is for a real man, pussy owns you! You have to treat it like a queen or it will tear you up.”
“Yeah tell me another story old man.” Half Dollar rolls his eyes and fingers his Pontiac Symbol Necklace.
“You better not old man me. I know my pussy, I know my music and I know I will whoop your ass.” Chuck said coming down a few step rolling up his sleeves.
Half dollar pulled out a .38 pistol.
I moved so fast the “Dollar” guy never saw it coming. I grabbed the pistol and hit him on the side of his head with it.
“What are you doing?” I screeched at him. “Pulling a gun out on Chuck. He does not have a gun.”
“No-one is gonna disrespect me.”
“What disrespect, Half Dollar? You want to tell me?”
“He is right you thugs walk around here like the fucking bulls in prison and you do not know shit from shine-ola.”
“Chuck here made a complement to Rihanna and you girls want to shoot him.”
“What the fuck?”
P. Diddy made a step towards me and I kicked him in the crotch and he just stood there. I looked at Chuck and we both started laughing.
Diddy picked Half Dollar off the ground and they started back to their house.
“C’Mon Rihanna!”
“I will be there in a bit.” And she started up the drive to talk to Chuck about the guitar.
Diddy and Half turned and started to charge up Chuck’s lawn.
Chuck stepped up and clothes lined Diddy putting him on his back.
Half Dollar turned and started towards him again.
Chuck dropped back into a martial arts stance. When Half was within range Chuck began to do Kung Fu on Half Dollar’s ass. Chuck beat he shit out of him. Only stopping when Rihanna stepped up cryin “No Chuck, don’t hurt him anymore.”
P. Diddy was still on the ground holding his throat and crying silent tears.
Half dollar tried to move but he had no strength and gave up to bleed into Chucks lawn.
Rihanna rubbed Half’s shoulder. “You ok baby? You ok?”
I went over to P. Diddy and bent over him.
“Can you breathe?”
He nodded.
“Then I suggest you get up and leave. Because I think Chuck is about to pee on you both. I turned to look at Chuck. We shared a smile.
P. Diddy got up and staggered to Half Dollar and helped him get up.
“Stupid old man.”
Chuck yelled “This stupid old man just schooled your punk-ass, now git before I get angry.”
Chuck you know they are gonna get their posse and come back.
No they are not. I hit them both with the Tibetan monk transsexual implosion punch. They are both gonna turn into women and then they are gonna have a real tough time.
We laughed and laughed.
The traffic started to pick up so I went home to find someone had stolen all of my junk.
Wendy was in her driveway and she had a smile on her face.
I thought about asking her if she knew what happened to my stuff, but, shit, Wendy scares the shit out of me. It is best for me to just go inside, butter up and sit at the knot hole. Someone has to keep an eye on those lesbians.




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..

In my neighborhood #23

In my neighborhood #23
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx


Our Neighborhood Take Back The Night celebration was last night. This is where we as a bunch of middle class individuals living in our suburban cocoon are suppose to go out in the dark and meet our neighbors and prove to the riff raff that we are not scared of them and our neighborhood is our own.
Aside from the pirates in the Shawn Fanning shanty town next door we really have no trouble. So an occasional drunken lout or a strung out lesbian pop star is the real trouble. Oh yeah there was the Sid and Nancy problem but that has started to run it’s course and even they have gotten on the bus so to speak.
So here we were, out in our yards after sunset. A perfect 72ºF. I was in a portable chair at the curb watching the neighbors mingle. Pam and Kid came over I shared some homebrew with them. We talked about the neighborhood gossip and the possibility of a Baywatch Movie deal in the works.
Johnny Cash came over; we spoke, but did not talk, if you know what I mean. No beer for him he gets moody real fast.
Wendy came over. She makes me feel anxious. We talked about vegan choices at Chilis and she began to start blathering on about ‘the travesty of the human condition.’ Then she started on about the destruction of eating red meat the treatment of cows in the slaughter house. I wanted to know if they should be giving all the cows their religious last rites and satin pillows.
But I do not argue with her she is very mean spirited sometimes and I do not want her mad at me.
Finally she left and I could breathe again.
Henry came over we talked about his last tour, he postulated about the current political climate and how the world as a community should do this night out thing to raise awareness of unethical practices of some other countries. I told him it is called United Nations.
He went “Ahh yeah that’s right. Hmm how do I get hooked up with that gig I could be of some real help with all my worldly knowledge from all my fact finding tours abroad.”
“Henry? Really? Are you serious? “
“Yeah man, I have been to Afghanistan and India and Singapore and Korea and Russia. I have even been to Iraq.” Henry’s chest puffs out with pride.
“And how do you suppose that we fix those countries?” I pointedly asked Henry. And standing up to his monster frame asked “If you are against war and economic sanctions what do you propose we do to get the mean bullies to play nice in the sand box?”
“We bring them up to our industrial level. We educate them on global warming and how a better more affluent citizen makes a better countryman.” He says like he has been waiting for this moment to tell his grand secret.
“But you forget that if we raise the lowest up to above poverty that the ones above poverty will also be risen and the ones in control will make sure they stay in control and thus we have economic slaves with better clothes and wood on the floor of the tar paper shacks. Nothing really changes and we have more people on the planet because they are all healthier.” I reminded him.
“Righteous!” Henry beams like he found another jewel of wisdom.
“NO NO NO. I ranted in my passionate sermon voice. “More people means more farts and more farts means more methane gases and more methane gases means a warmer green house and that means we all die sooner. Yes more comfortable but still sooner.”
“Nah man that won’t happen farts are not the cause of the green house.” Henry says like he is scared he may be wrong.
“Yes methane is one of the main abundant gases that are attributed to the global warming problem. And farts are methane gases.” Arms now flailing and spit flying from my lips.
“HMMM you may have something there.” Henry said looking down at his impossibly small feet. “I will have to start not farting.” Now looking up Henry has a gleam in his eye. “I am going to arrange a ‘No Fart’ tour to raise awareness to this global issue. If I can get just one other human to stop farting then I have reduced the problem by two fold from my perspective. And if I can get more people to do the same we can get this fart thing licked. I know I can get Al Gore to back this whole fart thing up.” Henry said excitedly.
Henry getting excited is kind funny he starts bouncing on the balls of his feet. And he looks like Tigger or a jack in the box just after it sprung.
“Yes this sounds like a plan Henry.” I encouraged. “You should get on this right away before it mushrooms out to an even more devastating problem.”
“Stop the farts and raise free the economic slaves!” I raised my voice in mock excitement and sarcasm.
“I can see the fan base jumping on this and making this a very relevant issue very fast.” Henry said as he started to pace. “I could recapture some of the lost share when I left Black Flag.”
“Yeap I can smell a Nobel peace prize Henry. You da man.” I said like a boxing trainer watching his bull go down.
“Thanks John you are a great neighbor.” He said as he started to pull out his bio-degradable cell phone. Then he turned back to me, “Hey do think I could get that ,….. “ I interrupted. “No you can not get a bird bath installed. Birds fart too you know.”
“They do?” he asked not knowing what to do.
“Sure they have an ass don’t they?” I asked like it was common knowledge to everyone else.
“Yes but they…. Hmmmm you may have something there.” He replied, but I heard the one gear turning and grind on something.
“Wow think about that?” I said with my best sarcastic smile.
“What’s that?” Henry asked.
“The world’s global warming problem solved on my lawn.” My voice still dripping with intense sarcasm.
“Yeah do not worry I will give you credit too.” Henry said as his gear ground and ground on this idea.
“Yeah I am sure you would but you know Henry I am a reserved individual, a humble person and I would appreciate you not mention my name.” I asked in my most pleading and reasonable voice.
“Alright I am going to try and get my agent to return my call so I can get this “No Fart” tour rolling.” Henry lifting the bio-degradable cell phone to his ear.
“Yeah later Henry see ya.” I said as he wondered back to his house.






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..

In my neighborhood #22

In my neighborhood #22
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

The HOA sponsored an Easter celebration for the neighborhood kids. And Easter egg hunt was had. Candy (no brown M&Ms) was handed out and Henry Rollins was in the Easter bunny suit for pictures and entertainment for the kids.
I was done handing out candy and potato plastic Easter baskets so I decided to sit on a bench by the playground equipment.
“hey John you really a reverend?” I turned to see Eminem sitting next to me.
“Yes Marshall I am”
“Can we talk?”
“Sure what about.”
“I have been having anger issues and I have been in the dumps lately. Do you think there is really a god?”
“Yes I know there is because he speaks to me everyday. What has that got to do with your anger and depression?”
“I just want to know if there is really a reason for it all. You know what I mean?”
Just then Henry starts flopping on the ground in front of the kids. He looks like a fish until he starts yelling about grenades and the kids start throwing the hard boiled eggs at him.
He starts talking about his arms and legs being blow’d off. Some of the kids stop giggling and start to look frightened.
Henry starts to lecture the wee tikes about the evil of wars.
“Hey Henry” Eminem yells. “Give it a rest, you’re starting to scare the kids.”
Henry looks at us. “But…” Just then some entourage member of Eminem’s stepped toward Henry.
“Yeah you’re right Em, We should be just celebrating the rise of commercial religion and the monsters that consumerism has breeds.”
Eminem throws an egg at Henry maybe a little too hard and the egg bounces off the left side of Rollins’ head. He yelps and the kids start to giggle and throw the eggs at Rollins a bit harder now, but he plays along acting now like a rabbit, then a duck, and then a rabbit again.
“Marshall what were you saying about being worth it?”
“No,” he says looking straight at me to make the point of the seriousness. “it is worth it but is there a reason for it all. I mean I work hard to write these deep meaning lyrics and the only thing that gets play is the same bubble gum crap. I try to educate the fan base but they all just act like sheep. Why? What is the reason for the fire in me to write real shit and he only thing that gets noticed is me riffing on the stupidity of it all and the insults I make towards other famous people.”
“What has this got to do with god?” I ask.
“Well if there is a god like you say and he has a purpose for me and I am fulfilling that purpose, then why do I still feel so empty and angry all the time?”
“Why are my real songs being ignored, why does it depress me about the shady, stealing shifty, fuckers that have latched on to me like a leeches.” He paused looking out over the small crowd of children.
The pause was so long that I thought he was done. And then he restarted
“If there was a god he would make my other stuff noticed and keep the suckers off my back. Right?”
“Well actually no.” I said already sorry for the answer before I could finish. “See the lord gave us all free will and so he can not make other people like your truer songs.”
“You are fulfilling your purpose. It seems that gods plan for you is to be a father better than your father, a performer that entertains and educates, and a voice for the many that are suffering poverty.”
“You are doing all these things. You should be happy and feel fulfilled.
“But I am not.” He sighed visibly frustrated.
“Then I would say you are guilty of something.” I said rather Harsly but he is a man he can handle the truth.
“WHAT?”
“Now it is my experience that if one is doing what one loves to do, then that person is happy, but if that person is not happy then they are guilty of something and in your case it would be your success.”
“What why would I be guilty of my success?” He said puzzled.
“You do not feel you are worth the admiration and accolades that are thrusted upon you. You feel that somewhere there was a point that you should have failed and stayed PWT. But here you are old fat and rich. You grew up fighting for everything and now everything is handed to you and you have all this fight left and no real channel for the energy.” I paused for this to sink in a bit.
“Dude, accept that you are successful, that you are old, you are fat, and you are rich. Accept that you have become all that you despised when you were young and relish in the fact that you can make positive changes in other people’s lives.”
“Is that why Henry is so happy?”
“Well henry is too dumb to be happy because he has never realized that he is old, fat, rich and irrelevant.” We laughed and watch him mock wrestle a stuffed panda bear.
“He still does not have that stupid bird bath and he is happy. I think that maybe he was behind the door when the brains were being handed out.”
Marshall smiled that evil smile he had when he was young.
“Thanks John you were a big help. So there really is a god?”
“Yes there is.” Staring into the sun behind his head. {Fucker}
“Are you sure?” Cocking his head to one side.
“Yes I am, he just told me to tell you to come by on Thursday.”
“Really? What happens on Thursday?
“Just some more education I think you deserve it you old fat man.
“Ha you are older than me John.” He smiled.
“And yet I am happier.” I smiled back to meet his
Marshall scooped up his kids and headed home.
Johnny Cash was playing gospel songs for the crowd. It was a nice day.
Henry came up covered in egg and candy with grass stains on his furry knees.
“Hey John, do you think the HOA will pay for he cleaning bill of my bunny suit?”
“No Henry they will not. They did not ask you to roll on the ground and act like a wounded war vet. They did not ask you to dress up as a bunny. You volunteered. Hey why do you have a bunny suit anyways?”
“My sexual preferences are none of your business.” He shot back in defiance and shame.
“Well you could have said ‘it was a charity thing you do’ but, now we all know you are a sick twisted, bird loving, old punker with little else to do but get kinky in a bunny suit.”

In my neighborhood #21

In my neighborhood #21
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

I finished the mow and I was going to run some weed and feed on the freshly cut grass and I realized I was out.
So I hopped into the car and headed up to the store. I decided that I just did not want to see Sid and Nancy so I decided to go out the side entrance.
On my way out I pass by Madonna's house. She lives next door to Lee Ving and Poison. She was out in her front yard tending to her yard too. This was truly a sight.
She was actually not doing her work but she had some others doing the work.
She was in that "funnel on her boobies" outfit standing on two professional ball players who were eating the boxwood into a perfect oval, while five more chewed her grass with their teeth. Multi-million dollar players chewing grass and bushes like goats. Holy crap!
The ball players were wearing just their cup and supporters and on their hands and knees chewing the grass.
Madonna was standing there leashes in one hand riding crop under one arm and a glass of ice tea in the other, and the ball players chewing away. Her kids, the blood and the adopted, were playing in the yard with their plastic trucks and action figures.
It was like some weird surrealistic nightmare. Like a Rockwell painting strung out on acid and heroin and two days into a paranoid psychotic episode, not that I would know.
I had to stop and say something, but what do you say to a queen? I mean really? It was wrong what she was doing to the neighborhood and the to these warriors of the field.
We made eye contact and she lifted the glass of tea in my direction like a toast. I nodded and slowed. Shit I have to stop and say something I am the president after all and she saw me and knows that I saw her.
I stop and I get out. Madonna halts the two ball players she is riding and steps down.
What can I do for you father?
I am not a father, that is Catholic just call me pastor or reverend please.
Ok what can I do for you reverend?
well I do appreciate the fervor in which you take care of your yard and I think that the enthusiasm should be shared by more in the neighborhood, but I think the jock strapped ball players is a bit over the top.
Yeah?
Yeah come on truly you could have had them wear the respective uniforms.
No, I can't, as the majority league ball club owns everything about baseball and to have them in my yard in their league uniforms would bring the MLBC down on the neighborhood faster than a costume change. And besides I think the look good this way. I mean after millions of years women have been objectified and demoralized and pornified. It is only fitting that men get their fair share of being treated like an object or as utensils.
I am not going to get into a girly rights issue with you Madonna. Just put some clothes on your grass munchers and think about the neighborhood instead of yourself. We are a community and in a community we have to act in the best interest of all instead of just the one. You know that Rob Zombie has bought a house and I think they he may have chosen not to if he had witnessed this spectacle.
Yes you are right pastor. Boys up. Up!
And the ball players snapped up into a formal line. She grabbed the riding crop and pointed to the house and the men turned but waited. She sighed and her shoulders slumped a bit and she swatted the lead ball player on the ass with the crop and he hopped into the house and so it went for the remaining six players a swat on the ass and they trotted into the house.
It was time to do the back yard anyways. And I know that there is nothing you can do about the backyard.
Yes you are right about that for now. But once I get the lesbian parties at Brit and Pink’s house taken care of the HOA will be in a better position to protect the neighborhood.
I hope not, I really enjoy bunko on Fridays.
Yes I know, I see you, and I hear you over there now and again.
And we see your eye at the knot hole.
I have to witness to testify and report.
Yes, yes I know.
Well I have to go to the store. Do you need anything Madonna?
Yes can you get me two dozen sticks of butter and some dish gloves?
Sure anything else?
Maybe pick me up some Luzianne tea also.
No problem, see you on the way back.
Yeah ok. Hey kids lets go into the house it is time for mommy to work on the back yard.
I went to the store.
You know she is not all that bad, I wish more of the neighbors were like her.

In my neighborhood #20

I have to post 20 before 21.


In my neighborhood #20
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

Dear HOA Management Company,
I was on my way to work this morn and as I passed the corner lot at the entrance I see Sid and Nancy passed out on the lawn AGAIN.
Now this has to be the 17th time I have found these two face down on a Monday morning in the grass.
I know I have been by on numerous occasions while on neighborhood patrol and they have been in full blown fist fight mode over McDonald cheese burgers, Starbuck ice coffee drinks, and other really stupid stupid things.
I want you to do the job that was contracted to you and that is to write a letter demanding that they begin to act more human and less animal. That they think about their actions and remind them that the value they set for their house, they also set for the rest of their neighbors.
Heaven forbid I decide to sell and have a potential buyer drive by see these two rutting in the front yard like some animals in heat or passed out in the sun like homeless bums.
This shit has to stop. You have to finally address this eyesore. I commend the HOA in their enforcing of the "No Lawn Art restriction". I applaud the restriction you have imposed on the Poison house. They were really going to burn down the whole neighborhood with the smoke and flash pots.
The Lesbian orgies behind my house are still going on but I know that there is only so much you can do. But this drug induced comas in the front yard are avoidable. they are in the front yard after all for god and everyone to see.
There is a bus stop right in front of their house. What if Sid ties one on and passes out with his pants down during the regular school season? I strenuously impress upon you the urgency at which this must be addressed.
If this is allowed to continue much longer they maybe able to pull the precedent and rock star card out in a court battle and then we are all fucked!
Get it right! Get it done and get it out NOW!

HOA president
Rev. John Sleestaxx

In my neighborhood #19

In my neighborhood #19
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

John Lydon came over today.
He wanted to barrow a stick of butter.
I explained that I did not have butter or margarine as it was a condition of my release.
He laughed and began to pretend that he understood. I knew he was lying because I was. I work hard for my money and the staples that I spend my money on and here is a rock god a shaker of the music universe wanting to "barrow" stick of fucking butter. Fuck him and his everyone is a bunch of wankers attitude
No John I do not have any butter or margarine.
Well how about some brown sugar. John really I do not have time for your free loading today.
What me free load? Never!
most of you fucking artist types are free loaders. You take from the base for something the base could have made for themselves if they had wanted and you all act like you are kings of the planet.
no that is not the case really. I really enjoy making music and providing entertainment to so many.
What you let me have I will replace tomorrow when I see Malcolm. Malcolm is to bring me some royalties tomorrow.
You still talk to Malcolm. I thought you all were not talking and hated each others guts. You tell everyone he took everything from you all and exploited you young performers and treated you all like slaves.
Yeah we really never hated each other it was all part of the great punk rock opera. Old man creates artist, old man acts like a god, god's creations destroy god, and creations now wander aimlessly through the cosmos trying to identify themselves to something. It really is sad but it is the way of life from the beginning of time. Think back....
We are lost; we create a god, now we have a starting point, something that marks our passage through space and time. Then we start to destroy god. First his son, but see there are still too many that like god so they make god forgive us. Then we wander through time killing and destroying one another in the name of the popular religion at the time.
Then we develop science instead of magic and we cut god down to a omnipotent being that created us and wandered away. Our science gets stronger and stronger and we start to think we do not need a god after all. But the insecure still do so they throw up a war or two in the name of creation but the science is strong and that gets squashed. Now science is so prevalent that everyone can warp their heads around it.
God must be destroyed if the human race is to flourish and grow and conquer new worlds and races. So now science creates life. Once science creates life it proves that god did not do it, it just happened it was fluke. A mistake of chance and statistical opportunity; lightning struck the ocean when the right proteins were in the right proximity of each other and zap life. No god, no 6 day work week of creation.
We build gods; every organized group of humans does it because they need a starting point in which to point themselves.
So we all sat down one day at a coffee house and thought about this. The English needed to recapture the music market again so we made punk rock. We made Malcolm our god and father then we "killed" him. We started an entire industry of clothes and attitude and accessories and now we are riding the cash cow to retirement. The grand social experiment near complete.
I looked at John as serious as I could and said "Then get on your cash cow and shit yourself some brown sugar." Do not come to my house and tell me how you single handedly created punk rock to prove a social experiment in the creation of god and mankind. What a load of fucking crap. No you know what, you go next door and tell Henry that shit and barrow his fancy non-exploited good for and from the environment butter and sugar and everything else but get the fuck off my property before I eat your fucking brain and fart your fucking soul out.

In my neighborhood #18

In my neighborhood #18
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

Trent Reznor came to my door asking if knew anything about Marilyn
It seems that Marilyn boasted to Trent that he had bought a house and he was very proud of this purchase
However, when Trent went to the door to see his good friend’s house and give him a house-warming present of a rotting meat sculpture, Marilyn was not home and Vanilla Ice was answering the door.
This was very odd to Trent as he was not aware of Vanilla and Marilyn being friends.
What did Vanilla say to you? I asked
That he was the owner and he had never heard of Marilyn living there but from the door, I could see the taxidermy cow hanging on the wall. Therefore, I pressed Vanilla about this and Vanilla finally broke down and said that he was just borrowing the house and he would give it up as soon as he was asked to leave. However, he still did not know anything about Marilyn’s disappearance.
Trent said that he had spoken to Henry who knew nothing (no surprise there). And he had spoken to Pamela Anderson who was having a very blonde day as he put it.
I introduced myself and invited Trent in for lemonade (Miley Style) he was gracious and polite but when he stepped inside he began to asked pointed questions and made accusations of cover ups and conspiracies. Saying things like this is so typical no-one understands Marilyn he is just too far ahead of his time.
Trent I told him Marilyn is not ahead of anybody. He PISSES on his audience for Christ sakes and he maneuvered his band mates out of a very successful gig.
Trent began to get a little frantic in his speech, his arms began to wave about in crazy windmill circles, and spittle and saliva foam began to fly from his lips.
And honestly I was regretting inviting him in. he was getting scary like crazy scary and I was beginning to mentally calculate how fast can I get to the butcher knife in the kitchen.
He was screaming now about how he needed to find "Mare". That mare would know what to do. Then he lunged at me like a crack addict. Honestly, it was not a surprise though because he was in the red zone long before he attacked me.
I held up one arm to fend the attack and began to back-peddle into the kitchen. I hit the dining room table with my right hip and fell down to one knee, that was enough for Trent to really put on the full court press, and he jumped on me. I fell back pulling the bible I had at the edge of the table. Trent pressed his whole body on mine and brought his face real close to me and then he got very calm and said that my breath was salty just like he likes it and he stuck out his tongue.
I rolled him to one side and brought the bible up under his chin forcing him to bite his own tongue.
He screamed and began to thrash about on the floor as if he was in a seizure or something. I jumped to my feet and started to the phone but he was in between me, the phone, me, and the only exit. I was freaking trapped.
He stopped convulsing and looked at me sideways.
You kilbed maberilyn bdibdm't myou!
No I did not
And then in a low hoarse whisper he was said he was going to eat me.
I backed into the kitchen to put the island between me and the crazy guy. He started to get up and I remember opening the drawer and the next thing you know Trent is on the floor with the butcher’s knife steel sticking in his eye.
Yes officer I dragged his body out the front door right away.
Because if he was to be pronounced dead IN my house I would have to disclose it to the potential buyers but if he was to be dead OUTside well that is a whole other loop hole.
Marilyn? No he is probably on an animal sex binge with drugs and liquor out in some god forsaken Midwest barn sneezing from all the hay pollen.
Vanilla? I guess he was house sitting and decided that a crazy Trent Reznor was not worth the free shelter and vamoosed.
Would you like some lemonade?
Sure I have no plans to leave town and if I am needed down at the station for anymore questions I would be more than happy to come down.

In my neighborhood #17

In my neighborhood #17
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

My family was over at Henry’s for movie night. It is something we do occasionally because we are neighbors and I poke fun at him. The movie was “Falling Down”, it was wonderful film of a man snapping, of a man who had enough shit and he went on a walk about. kind of Australia LA style.
Henry starts to talk about how he identifies with the main character played by Michael Douglas. And he pauses the movie to stand in the living center and start a recitation of one of his pieces. Wendy goes to the bathroom and Kidd starts to nod off on Pam’s chest.
Henry starts to speak to my son about corporate rapers and devourers of the common man's soul. And how one morning while shaving his head he came to realization that singing for Black Flag was not his true calling but a prelude to what he must do with his life.
I have that voice, the voice of the common man I can reach multitudes and let them know that the common man is pissed and poor and tired of being someone else’s bitch. The common man works all week at a job he does not enjoy so that he can barely provide for his family and put just enough gas in his tank to go to work another day to do it all over again.
I speak for the average Joe because I identify with him I know him he is my base and I am his champion. He knows that I fight his fight for him.
No, you speak so much and so loud that you only hear your voice, you only know your thoughts. You then stand up there on stage for your high paid speaking engagements and regurgitate your thoughts and your ideals onto the stage like it is the gospel and we all think that way. but you do not speak for me and you do not speak for many of the common man.
You do not struggle?
oh yes I do struggle I struggle against discrimination, I struggle against entitlement. I struggle against oppression and I endure lie after lie after lie. I wade through vomit of “This is for you, It is good for you and I have done this great thing for you”. Much of the same puke and shit you spewed just now. But the fact is you know nothing of my struggle. You work in a field that enjoys you and pays you a beyond average salary. You speak of things you have never ever been in touch with or it has been so long since you have been in touch that you have forgotten the weight of failure, the weight of trudging to a Jay Oh Bee, the god awful beatings at the gas pump knowing that it is all a conspiracy.
A conspiracy? Henry asked
Yes the war, the gas prices, the economy recession and inflation. It is all a great controlling play to guide and heard the masses into a class based society controlled by the rich and supported by the poor.
I know that is what I am talking about.
Well stop talking and do something. The revolution is mounting; the tides of change are ebbing to a wave of evolution. It is just waiting for a spark, a leader, a starter of the fire that would burn the old wood and create a landscape of equality and happiness. But instead you just poke it with a stick and dance around the issue with the step and grace of an ignorant native worshiping the eclipse like it was a great god devouring the sun.
You need to step up and fight, get the ball rolling. Start a channel on youtube tell everyone on youtube who you are voting for and why. Point out platform points and tell them why they are good for the nation, why they are good for the world, and most importantly of all why they are good for me. Then if your champion is elected you have to speak once a month about your candidates actions, you have to explain why your candidate failed to execute and not in the criticizing why that all talking heads do, but in a informative educational way. That way when your candidate succeeds or fails you can be accountable for the awful state that you will bitch about. If you speak for the common man because your voice is the loudest and you have this great platform to speak from, you can be accountable for you choices because that is the problem with the corporate rapers and the politicians that devour the souls and cultures of foreign lands, they are not truly accountable. No-one is and that is the shame. That is the failure in world globalization no-one person is accountable for the mistakes or the colossal failures. China is the terrible un-doer of centuries of human rights progression, but they still get the contracts to make the items that we buy and in turn China buys our countries debt.
If our country would invest in the people they would not have debt, they would have a resource, but they want to starve us into submission. They have failed to follow the simple rules of economy since the 80's and it is all to drag our middle down to the level of the global middle so that the global population is equally poor. The rich will be in charge.
You need to tell people of the tragic opera that is being played out on the global stage and get them to drop the curtain before the fat lady sings.
Wow, Henry said all wide eyed like a kid who fired his first gun, that is a tall order I do not know if I can handle that responsibility. I do not know if my voice is loud enough to be heard.
You go to foreign countries and talk shit about you home team all the time.
Get out there and make a change and not pretend anymore.
Yeah! Henry said with belief raising in his throat, I am no poser, I am hardcore, he yells as he gets pumped up, yeah! he begins to hop about, yeah!
You are old but you are hardcore. I yelled.
He beings to pace like the old Henry I remember
And he starts to slap his head.
Yeah fuck yeah.
And he charges out the door and down the street.
Henry is on a world tour go see him and encourage him, I think he might get a little scared from time to time.
Me? I am watering his lawn and his plants.
I pile his mail up on the dining room table and make sure that his two cats “Spoon” and “Mr. Snuggles” are watered and fed.
The movie??
No we never got to finish it and that is fine because I wanted to my son to think about the parts he saw and not the conclusion of the movie.






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

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

In My Neighborhood #16 Rev. J. Sleestaxx

In My Neighborhood #16
Rev. J. Sleestaxx


I was in my flowerbed pulling weeds. This is very therapeutic for me as I picture each weed I pull as a bad relationship or a negative moment in my life being removed. I feel that the visualization helps promote a positive atmosphere and positive direction for my life. There is so much negativity and wrong going on that being outdoors in the sun and fresh air is a healthy alternative to being indoors waiting the news about death destruction and corporate greed.
I digress.
I am in my green room. I am just about to reach that one with everything when I hear screeching, screaming, and bellowing. There are some men arguing like girls about something somewhere and it is making ripples on my pond of serenity.
You bastard they were my cherished pets
I do not know what you are talking about Sharron!
I know you Ozzy I know you. You took them for your tour you bastard.
No, I did not that was a long time ago. In addition, I was just really high then but I do not do that anymore.
I think, "Oh I get it" Ozzy lives next door to Alice Cooper and Alice is raising bats in his back yard. He thinks that Ozzy is coming over and stealing his bats
Just as Sharron comes out the front door in an apron wiping her hands like in an episode of "leave it to beaver" the two start to bitch fight.
You know what I mean they are just slapping at each other with their eyes closed. Quite comical if you ask me. Two "bad Ass" metal stars fighting like math nerds.
Sharron runs up like a mommy and starts to separate the two "What is wrong with you two." “You two used to be friends."
Alice falls back on his ass. In addition, starts to cry about his bats. They have been disappearing and at first he thought they were just getting lost or finding other fusions to live with." but this afternoon I went to check and the entire roost is missing. Gone, pole and all. In addition, I know this fucker took them.
Now Alice, Sharron says, I know that you love your bats and I know that you mean well by raising them, but the HOA hired bat chasers to remove the battery in your back yard. The HOA feels that this may not be appropriate activity in this subdivision.
They all in unison turn their heads and look at me.
FUCK! They saw me. I could have gone indoors and pretended I was not home, but not now. Shit they knew I was there and they knew I was aware of their desire to speak with me about a HOA issue. Damn presidency (See Feb. 25 chapter 11).
Fuck here they come, all three of them. Alice and Ozzy forgetting about the fight and now just comrades to support one another in a more just cause.
What do you mean that my hobby is in appropriate?
Come on Alice think about this. Nasty, dirty, disease ridden rodents in this neighborhood. What about the home values? They were a nuisance, many of the other neighbors expressed concern for their health and welfare. Many were very disturbed by the early morning sightings of Ozzy, in his Fruit of the looms, sneaking over and eating the bats as they came back. Then coming back home with bat blood streaking down the front of his shirtless belly and underwear.
Ozzy! Exclaimed Sharron You promised that you try to stop.
Sharron Sharron I did.
No Ozzy you did not, you went over there like a Baptist preacher to a porn store. All stealth like but everyone EVERYONE saw you go over. It was both disgusting and a shame, that you did not have the strength to stop eating your neighbor’s bats.
Ozzy Stop eating bats. That was a moment of drug-addled frenzy and now you are an old man with a super wife who takes care of you. Get it together man.
Alice You are over 50 years old! You are no scarier now then, then and now you want to act the scary metal god. HA you are just a grand dad that needs to find a respectable hobby like fly-fishing or woodworking. Grow the fuck up and paint your house a real fucking color like the rest of us.
Shit Ozzy you need to get your shit together man go to the rehab center for the bat obsession
Sharron get a tighter lease on your man.
Now get the fuck off my lawn you are all killing the grass.
I turned and there was Henry on his lawn just shaking his head in dis-approval. “Preacher,” Henry said, “ You are wrong and you know it.”
Sharron, he continued you know if I elected president this would not have happened.
No Henry if you were elected you would have run this place to shit and I voted for John because you are a bleeding heart liberal that does not know right from wrong and what it means to retain ho9me value in this volatile market.
Henry looked as though he was just slapped.






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..

In my neighborhood #14 By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

In my neighborhood #14
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx



Shawn "Napster" Fanning decided to become a real estate mogul. He began to develop the property next my subdivision and began to build copycat versions of the models in my neighborhood. Shawn the "ass pirate" did not even buy the land he just began to develop. the fucktard even named the streets the same as the streets in my subdivision. I do not know how the post office stamped that one ok but there you go more government inequities and stupidity they should do a comedy real life series based on government services.
The duplicate street names are not the only problem the quality of the building is in question and Shawn is allowing the "home owners" to build their own houses as a low cost replacement for hired skilled labor.
This owner building has created very poor quality homes whose poor construction will eventually reflect through the markets desire for my homes. In example why would I pay that much for your home when next door is the same home for less or free. Also why would I WANT to live next door to such a poorly constructed neighborhood obviously this subdivision does not value their neighborhood or the quality of their homes.
The architects did not get any royalties for the use of their designs so they are pissed and the neighbors are pissed and the HOA just wrings their hands saying they are restricted in what they can do.
Shit, I skip edging my front yard one week and they have 300 dollar attorneys writing 50 dollar letters to me about the care and maintenance of my yard, but when a real tragedy or a real threat to home value arises they are restricted in what they can do, their hands are tied. PUSSIES all of them.
Shawn "Napster" Fanning believes that the houses will relieve the cost the government spends to support the homeless and there by alleviating the troublesome burden of the government assistance and therefore be a boon to the econimy and inturn raise the value for everyone. this is more of the Regan trickle down slop that the Demorats tried to feed us about taxing the rich less and the middle class more. fucking homos (not that there is anything wrong with that)
so his plan is to "let the houses be free" (or very cheap)
but now too many people are living in the houses. too many people chose to build their own free house and since the houses are free they are not valued buy the "owners" so the houses are being unkempt and unruly. The lawns are not complete and addresses are not post the same causing huge confusion and duplicate address on the same street. The entire mess looks like a mexican shanty town. Raw sewage is running in open-air ditches between the houses to the gutters. Bastard children are playing the ditches and not going to church or school. They just get their education from MTV and their upbringing from Neopets.
Some houses are not finished right. For instance there would be a bedroom in one section of a model and there is nothing just empty house space. Some should be two stories and they are one story. The rooms are built smaller than they should be. Some are just built in a smaller scale so that they can fit on the property, but the house is unlivable due to the cramped rooms. In addition, some are just not finished and never will be completed.
The entire system turned into a socialist mess and now the new subdivision looks like a hobo town.
And again the HOA refuses to take matters seriously.
So the neighbors and I went in the night and raided the neighborhood and burnt the shacks to the ground. Some of us went as concerned citizens while many more went as crazed psychopaths that just wanted to burn some shit and beat up some humans.
It was an epic battle many lives were lost and many brave souls were sent to the maker of lives. I will not do their memories justice by recounting the battle but I do believe the battle and the souls lost deserve some acknowledgement.
We went in from four directions I was in the group led by Tommy Lee and Wendy. We crested the hill that separated the two neighborhoods and we could see that Lee Ving’s group had started early as they had already begun burning houses (I said psychopaths).
We charged down the hill and began kicking down the weakest of shacks. Methodically knocking on structures to get the inhabitants out and then setting the wood ablaze.
About three hours in I was getting tired and my foot hurt something fierce. I have inhaled more smoke and noxious fumes than I would like my healthcare insurance to know about. We reached the center of the neighborhood about the same time as Pam and Kidd’s squad.
Shawn Fanning’s subdivision was out flanked and out maneuvered we had them bunched in the center of the development by the amenities, some were forced so tight that Wendy was standing on heads so she could swing that fire axe of hers.
I saw Henry walking through the carnage flaying his arms, talking about how much good he does for the country in his so typical spoken word cadence. “I do this for the country” He stammered, “and I do that. I speak about the injustices of the government because the little guy has no voice. In addition, I was gifted with this incredible talent and opportunity to speak for everyone. That is why I speak about how everyone is doing it wrong and they should listen to me because I know how the world should be and I know what everyone should do to make the world a better place a place that would be right for all humans AND animals.” He blah blah blahed right past me as I fought three, seriously three these Fanning fuckers and he did not even stop to help. Yeah he stopped. He stopped, he looked at me in close combat, and he asked if he could have his birdbath back. He asked if it was because I hated birds. I told him between dodging bullets and knife stabs that I liked birds as much as the next person, but the deeds forbid lawn art. “bird hater. You are a fucker, you hate the environment, and you do not represent my best interests. Next year during the elections I will beat you. And he walked on chanting some Zen mantra about peace and love.
At one point in the blue twilight of the dawn sun I saw death walking through the mob swinging his scythe just cutting them down like wheat being harvested. I felt sorry for death for it was clear that his job would never be done, because as his swing was complete and the Shawn Fanning residents fell more would spring up in their place. The writs and subpoenas swung and houses fell but we never really began to make any progress.
Finally on my knees in the blood and mud and tears I could see that the residents were now numbering twice what they were when we started. Like cockroaches on HGH, they just grew and grew and I could see fledgling bands in the mob offering versions of the homes in hopes to garner publicity and press about their band and the aid and comfort they were administering to the wicked pirates that we were in a death grip with.
At one point I had to take a dump. So I left the battle to go home and use my toilet that I so love. I find that a comfortable setting is conducive to proper bowel movements and at my late age proper bowel movements are important and cherished. 42 minutes later, I climbed o the top of the hill to see that we had lost.
The shantytown looked as if no one had even been there. Short of a nuclear bomb, we are doomed.
In addition, the HOA just refuses to complete their promised end of the relationship.
To hell in a hand basket I tell ya’, to hell with us all.






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..

In My Neighborhood #15 Rev. J. Sleestaxx

Miley Cyrus has her lemonade stand out and Wendy and Billy idol are joging last evening this past Saturday and they have finished their 5th loop past the stand iand I guess the traffic has been slow because Miley calls to them "Hy you two must be thirsty by now you have ran past five times. How about some lemonade? On the house.
Really? Billy asks
“Yeah sure business” Miley Cyrus explains “has been slow and I have to pack it in soon and why should I waste it.”
“If you two like maybe next time you will stop and pay for some.”
So she pours two larges for them.
Wendy reaches into her sock for some cash and Miley Cyrus stops her "No ma-am I told you it was on the house."
Wendy says "Well the lemonade tastes great and I thought I would pay now for some and then later when you are out here again I can get some more.”
“No you two do not need to do that.”
“Why thank you.”
“You are sure a nice little girl.”
“Well you two sure are nice for punkers.”
Some laughter then Miley Cyrus asks, “Hey are you really punkers or are you all pretending for the image.”
Well that was it! Billy lost it. His harelip/whiplash pout jumped on his face and he began to yell "What you do not think I am punk? Well how about this?” And he pours the lemonade on Miley Cyrus’ head
Wendy just laughs and says “Hey Billy she is just a kid.”
“No man, here how about this?” And he jumps onto her table and begins to dance like in his rebel yell video.
And the table breaks.
“There now!” He says from the ground on his back "Is that punk enough for you?"
Miley begins to cry and Billy Ray Cyrus comes out and yells at Billy Idol. Billy begins to bawl about his back and Wendy starts to step in front of Mr. Cyrus and Billy Ray starts to step past Wendy and she side steps back in front and Billy Ray goes to push her, and Holy fucking Christ it was blur Wendy had Billy Ray Cyrus’ hand back and up and twisted. And then as Billy Ray Cyrus cried out, he was air borne flying backward and he hit the dirt in a big whuffff.
Now the two Bills were on the ground crying and Miley was crying and Wendy stood on Billy Ray Cyrus chest and began to yell “Get down you dumb muther fucker.”
Miley thought Wendy was talking to her and she dropped to the ground.
Everybody was crying now and Wendy was just yelling.
Johnny Cash came out to see what the noise was about and when he saw Wendy standing on Billy Ray Cyrus he ran over to the melee.
He helped little Miley Cyrus up and then he told her to go into the house
Then he stepped over to Wendy and shoved her off Billy Ray and helped Mr. Cyrus up
Then he reached down to Billy Idol and instead of helping him he grabbed the vest by the collar and brought him up to his face as he bent down at the same time. Then he said something to Billy Idol because Billy just shook his head, then he nodded his head and a dark spot showed up on his sweat pants. Billy Idol pee’d his pants. Johnny Cash scare the piss out of Billy Idol.
Miley Cyrus's mother came running out and when she made eye contact with Wendy she stopped running and walked up the mess.
John let go of Billy with a disgusted motion and strode back to his house.
Miley Cyrus pointed at Billy Idol and whispered to her mother who turned and told Miley Cyrus to go back into the house.
She went to her husband and asked him if he was alright.
Then she looked at Billy idol and Wendy and told them "It might be best if you two do not stop for lemonade any more." then she turned to her husband and said "I want to move right now"



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..

In my neighborhood #13 By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

In my neighborhood #13
By Rev. J. Sleestaxx



Lars Ulrich from Metallica wants to get access to my house. He and the Scientologist lawyers expect full access anytime, anywhere to be sure that my house is not a copy of Lars Ulrich's.
The neighborhood was two developers with 3 models each and each model had three elevations and Lars Ulrich seems to think that just because I have a house that I have a copy of his house and he wants to be sure that I some how do not enjoy home ownership as much as him. Like he some how invented home ownership. The whiny bitch.
So here they are at my door demanding entrance and waving reams of paper saying things like due ownership and proper channel purchasing with accountability and proper book keeping.
I know nothing of this I know that the lord speaks to me from time to time and today he is yelling at me to beat this pussy musician into the ground.
God said that I should beat the weapons of Satan down and the lawyers are the worst tools of Satan as they have perverted the common laws of man into the yokes and bridles of all mankind.
The lord says that this bastard fucks kittens and goats and thinks that he can sue the right hand of god with impudence.
All of a sudden I was overwhelmed by the presence of the Holy Spirit and the good lord spoke in my ear and my heart and he said "set this mother fucker lawyer on fire."
I pulled out a book of matches and began to flick lighted matches at the fat fuck with the papers and he cried and whipped out his cell phone like it was a six shooter and began to babble lawyer tongues into the phone.
Then next thing to happen was both strange and funny, the lawyer on the phone, squinted his face and you heard swappp wapp wapp like that of thin lumber slapping and then there was the stench of poo.
Lars Ulrich looked at his lawyers and they all had shit their pants. The good lord hand touched them all. AH HA!
They, the lawyers, left real fast and there was Lars Ulrich just standing there with his entourage of homosexual groupies (not that there is anything wrong with that) and bi-sexual (not that there is anything wrong with that) roadies, demanding still to be let into my house. I thought they were going to charge when Joe strummer pulled up in his Escalade with 30" spinner rims. Affixed to the purple paint job was the magnetic "neighborhood watch" sign with the stupid eye ball logo.
"What seems to be the trouble here preacher" Joe said as he stepped out of his car.
Well Joe these guys....
"We have every right to ensure that our property is not copied", Lars Ulrich interrupted, "And to be sure, we think that we are due compensation for each and every copy."
“Well”, Joe started, “that would be right if your house looked like the good preacher's and also if you were sure that copies were being made of copies because don't copies have to be made from originals at some point?"
Lars Ulrich started to talk, but Joe cut him off, “You do not even live here and you do not even know if John here likes your tastes in furniture, because looking at your entourage I can tell you that John does not care to have Homosexuals and Bisexuals on his front yard, (not that there is anything wrong with that), let alone tracking cooties and poser heavy metal vibes through out his house.”
“Why don't you just take your pussy, fan hating, fat ass, on out of here before I start to beat you down. Because when the preacher beats you he is saving your soul, but when I beat you, well you are just getting beat. Now git!”
Lars Ulrich and the 12 man posse walked back to their cars and drove off.
Wendy went back into the house disappointed.
Henry came out and asked “Hey man what is going on?”
“Henry you are always late and a dollar short.”
“No need to pick on my height Joe, you are not much taller than me.”
“Yeah uh ok Henry whateva.” Joe said making the ‘What ever’ hand sign.
“John you just give me a call anytime that piece of flaming metal poser shows up ok?”
“Yeah Joe no problem thanks for the help.”
Joe jumped into the escalade and Henry began preaching about the environment and carbon emissions and foreign oil dependence when Joe’s escalade roared to life and lurched forward towards Henry’s yard and stopped short of the curb.
Henry held up a hand like he could part the sea or something and then Joe goosed it a second time the car jumped the curb Henry screamed and ran away.
Joe gunned the monstrous engine and the back wheels began to chew up yard exposing the brown dirt under the manicured lawn.
Joe cut the wheel to the right and back wheels began to break loose and slid as well as cut into the grass.
Joe was able to cut 2 360º circles into Henry’s lawn before pulling off of the drive way.
Henry just dropped to his knees and cried, weeping like a girl about the damage done to the earth worm habitat and the cinch bugs environment and bla bla bla.

	Currently reading 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, 2007

In My Neighborhood #8 By Rev. J. Sleestaxx

It was garbage day and I was putting the cans by the curb and I hear "what Up Dawg".
Why does anyone believe they have the right to call me a dog and not get their ass kicked. Oh well. I turned to find Vanilla Ice standing there in all his heavy metal tattooed glory. Although he was now a proud metal performer and he had shed the “white boy who could dance” he reeked of poser.
He had had his fight with drugs, divorce, and scandal that had not really put a real edge on him. He was still looking every bit the poser, the fake, the wanna be.
I do not remember him moving in anywhere.
“I just moved in last night, into that house over there.” He points to Marilyn’s house. The one across from Johnny, and I best not speak any more about that matter.
“That house there?” I asked.
“Yeap, signed the papers yesterday and everything. He smiled the smile of a car salesman. Yeap that’s the ticket. Signed the paper yesterday.”
“You know who used to live there before you.”
“No no-one its mine who’s been talking and what have they been saying? Cause I signed the papers yesterday.”
“Yeah you said that.”
“You want to see them?”
“No, no dude that will be quite all right.” Hoping to end this stupid banter.
“Cause you know I was totally crucified over a double beat that every could not get except my manager and producer.”
“I want to make sure that everyone knows that this is my house.”
“I built it and everything with my own two hands, hammered the nails myself. plumbed the copper tubes myself.”
“Copper pipes” I corrected
“What?” he was clearly lost in an alternate universe and did not have a map to get back.
“Copper ….yeah uh O Kay what ever”
“No dude really I did.”
“Sure you did what ever.” I said less convincing than I wanted to be.
“You know what you better show some respect.”
“Or what? “ I challenged.

I'm trying to get away before the jackers jack
Police on the scene you know what I mean
They passed me up confronted all the dope fiends
If there was a problem yo I'll solve it
Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it
Ice 1990

“No dude relax just relax.” And I am thinking please do not sing any more of that fucked up lame ass song or it may get embedded into my brain for a week.
“I do not care in fact it is probably better you moved in.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“Here's the deal what ever you do, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT landscape that front flowerbed. Leave the flower bed alone and you should have no trouble at all.”
“The flower bed?” he twisted his forehead all up and you could almost hear the one functioning gear grind on all the stripped ones.
“Yeah, you see Johnny is very particular about his view.” I said kind of leaning in and whispered, trying to make it seem official.
“HEH, Johnny Cash? Really? No problem. I do not want any trouble with him I heard he killed a man just to write a song.”

Gunshots rang out like a bell
I grabbed my nine all I heard were shells
Falling on the concrete real fast
Ice 1990

"Yeah, ok." I said getting bored with the conversation already.
"Welcome to the neighborhood." I said not really to him but just out there so I did not seem like an asshole.
And I turned away. Thinking to myself, "Can I live with Vanilla Ice in my neighborhood? Can I pull a Johnny and make the house vacant?"
Milli Vanilli tried that squatting thing with the model, but everyone knew they were squatting and the house builder knew the model was not sold. They were not the sharpest tools in the music industry either.
Here at least Vanilla is trying to squat a sold house.
I wonder how long he will be able to stay there before anybody realizes he is squatting and the house is like his music, not his own.

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

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?”
“Yeah man you are a legend.”
“Yeah?”
“Man you fucking rock!”
“What are you doing here you should be putting your revival album together.”
“Yeah?”
“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