From: "Rev. Susie the Floozie" <revsusiethefloozie@gmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.slack
Date: Wed, Jul 8, 2009 6:33 PM
On Jul 8, 6:00 pm, "Morose, aka Doktor Holocaust"
<Chibithu...@gmail.com> wrote:
> On Jul 8, 5:51 pm, "Rev. Ivan Stang"
<st...@subgenius.com> wrote:
>
> > We/I have some pretty funny pictures of YOU!
("Gang War Veterans" and
> > "Matching Giant Chairs", to be posted.)
>
> that's not just any giant chair - that's my wife!
Thank you for letting me sit on your wife all wet and
naked and
intoxicalated. You know, I thought I felt licking...
Dobbs smiled on me on the way back. I was still in my
flirty X-Day
mode and the ticket guy at the airport upgraded me to
first class and
didn't charge me for my bag. I ducked into the can and
changed from a
Jesus-with-a-gun-&-booze tshirt into something nicer
with some
cleavage and I slapped on makeup and did my hair. The
ticket guy did a
doubletake when he saw the other Susie. I slipped him
the last copy of
BSTF I had in my purse by way of thanks and got on the
plane.
Too bad my alky days are over, because they plied me
with liquid as
soon as my butt hit the plush seat of 1-D. Spacious
accommodations, no
ferndocks in front of me, and a good window view with
no wing in the
way--plus a little pillow and woolly were waiting for
me in sealed
baggies. Ahhh.... Sure, if we crashed, the impact would
crush me--but
I'm the kind of girl who's always a little disappointed
with
successful takeoffs and landings, so it was all good.
Too bad I missed the dinner service, but the effusive
gay cabin
attending was constantly by with a basket of snack treats
and fruit. I
had Twix bars, some Reese's, and capped it off with
a banana, and
continual lashings of Dr Pepper. The sunset through
the windows was
especially vivid, with great electric orange slashes
and streaks of
neon blue--spuckin' fectacular. But the best thing....?
This was Monday night and everything below was shrouded
in the
increasing darkness, broken up by the odd string of
highway lights and
small shopping plazas between the expansive stretches
of blackness.
Then a small flash caught my eye. I looked down at the
small fading
glow as it disappeared. Flashbacks already? Cool, that'd
be
entertaining. And then I saw another lightburst, and
another one. I'd
figured the Pinks were all done with their festival
of explosions, but
nooooo... Someone must be shooting off the last of
their July 4th
stash in their backyard, I was thinking--when a whole
big barrage of
golden anemones and red twinkles and green lightballs
went off
silently in the darkness below. This was no backward
cone-and-sparkler
blowout, it was a full-scale fireworks exhibition in
some jerkwater
town. I'd never considered being on the other end of
the perspective:
Below me were hillbillies gawping at the sky-filling
grandeur of an
explosive spectacle--from 60,000 feet up, it was like
a tiny,
insignificant gas bubble igniting in a tarpit. I tracked
the lightshow
as the plane roared past, until the last squibs flickered
out and the
darkness won out.
I found myself thinking of the unseen hive of Pinks
gathered in the
black-velvet darkness below me, looking up, expectant,
flushed, and
happy.
Was that an eerie snapshot of us?
Were we looking up, looking for something close, and
not finding--
while something far above us swept past unseen above
the clouds?
Shitfuckhellpiss, I hope not.