the last supper

let me just say that da vinci was not in the wine cellar at the washington inn last night. jesus might have been there but i kept hearing something in the bread basket but it was a bit muffled from the savory snacks being wrapped in fresh linen. the twelve apostles were there or the motley crew or the hen house or the circus came back to town. you can always tell when it is acomin' you hear that piercing music box sound, the earth shivers from the march of the elephants....and by the way the air is full of the smell of hay, cotton candy, and donkey shit. i heart a hot number 2. can you super size my fries though. i am eating for two, papi. i think jesus gave a shout out to his apostles peeps and said at that din din "one of you bitches is going to come for me and try to cut me with your box cutter"
i will give that award to dot. she showed up in her christmas sweatshirt. vutton, of course. earring by chanel. lipstick by avon. the color of that stick "blackened brown suga plum fairy chipped beef"
all the girls are featuring it. she was announcing to the world that she came with no money. she has no money. she only got one unemployment check since october. that skillet is cracked and needs to hang itself up on the wall for good. whatta mean you don't serve fried chicken anymore, bobby? i think there is a KFC in north cape may. actually, the twelve apostle, lucille phoned her dinner in because she was home in bed with a lazy eye. she had to go get the dewers build up on her left eye scrapped in philly. mama dot made a eye patch for her out of a piece of dried fat back and butcher's twine. once she got over the musty smell, she resumed the role of black ice the bitchiest black pirate on the eastern seaboard. you should met her pet parrot. she is one mean buzzard. i think her name is shirley. THE END.
mother nature is whippin up a mean batch of cookies down here. it is code blue. which means the police scoop up the homeless people so they don't turn into human creamsicles in the gutters or under the bridges or in their cardboard apts. also, i learned at 4am this morning after i woke up out of dead sleep and turned the news on to go back to bed. there is only one company in the usa that makes wire hangers for dry cleaners. and they are fist fucking the merchants by jacking up the prices. i always hated when a wire hanger was hiding out in my closet mixed up with all the popular kids. i would rip him right off the playground and break both his hands and feet. now, i think i am going to let them stay and enjoy the merry go round and take a kiki in the sandbox. and you never know if jesus will need a wire hanger to beat down the apostle who ends up stabbin' him in the back with a dull butter knife. mary jo can you pass me the butter, please.