Oh my my my
So I was sitting and thinking "OK, I will finally get off my ass after the extended authorial vacation and start writing again." I figure if Phil Rossi can write seven novels and produce 237 podcasts, (and knock out a couple of babies along the way), every five days at least I can post something about something on my long neglected blog. I fired up the computer and dramatically cracked my knuckles, (always a strong way to kick things off), and stared at the blank canvas, (ok, laptop screen), in front of me, and stared at it.......and looked some more.......and after some more interminable staring just said screw it and started typing whatever the fingers decided to produce. The following is finally what I wrote. Upon review and edit I think I need to get back into therapy.
.............................................................................................
David Bowie was surveying the parcel of land that seemed to stretch to nowhere. There was a chill wind in the air which was strange for that time of year, stranger still that there was any wind at all on the moon, as the moon has no atmosphere, which makes the whole wind thing highly unlikely. So it was a strange day indeed.
Anyhoo.......
"Semmthin taint right heah" muttered Bowie as he mopped his glittery brow....."I smell trouble." His companion grunted in affirmation, the steadfast pistolero was a llama of few words but you could read his black moods clearly in the way he spit or shivered his hindquarters and at this moment spit was spittling and hindquarters were shivering quicker than a 1970's motel room bed that had just been fed a fistful of quarters.
Trouble was nigh.
Bowie and the llama moved slowly ahead on the backs of their large space seahorses looking for what they didn't know, they just knew that whatever it was, it was coming and soon. Bowie turned as he heard a rock clatter behind him and there before him was what he half expected to find and dreaded more than having to eat Mama Bowie's cream of mushroom and sweet potato quesadilla sopapilla surprise. "The guddum monkey...........I knew it", he muttered. "State your business monkey and clear off willingly or get cleared by me and the llama. You know if I was willing to do the China Girl video I ain't skeered or too proud to do you in like I did all my Ziggy Stardust era credibility."
The monkey laughed the laugh of a thousand Full House live studio audiences full of demons and shouted from his perch "CHINA GIRL WAS AWESOME COMPARED TO THE PANTS....HEY YOU KNOW BOWIE WHAT PANTS YES BOWIE YOU KNOW TELL ME BOWIE WHAT'S UP WITH THOSE PANTS YOU WORE IN THAT DANCING IN THE STREET VIDEO WITH MICK JAGGER BOWIE HAH?!!? WERE YOU HIGH AS HELL ON GLUE OR SOMETHING BOWIE TO WEAR PANTS LIKE THAT BOWIE? DID IMAN KNOW YOU WERE GOING TO WEAR THOSE PANTS BOWIE??!?!? WHAT DID JAGGER SAY BOWIE??!?!?! C'MON BOWIE TELL ME ABOUT THE PANTS TELL ME WHAT YOU WERE THINKING BOWIE ABOUT THE DANCING PANTS BOWIE?!?!?!"
Bowie pulled his 45. and took five clean shots at the monkey who suddenly evaporated into a cloud of fairy dust, gone for the moment but sure to return. He had regretted the pants for decades. He kept a bellyful of resentment and blame that he would foist on Jagger, on the bottle, on Nipsy Russell, on MTV and "Triple J", J.J. Jackson, (and to a lesser degree Martha Quinn with who he had fathered four carnival freaks), but deep down he knew he had only himself to blame for falling prey to the allure of those captivating billowing trousers. He was resigned to the fact that he alone would carry the curse of the weird Dancing in the Street pants and the monkey that came with it across the moon for the rest of his days, or at least until his lawyers could get a copyright injunction against YouTube and take down the videos.
As he glumly began the long ride back to his moon ranch and the waiting arms of Iman he noticed the llama staring at him quizically. "Wuts on yer mind llama?" he queried. The llama simply said, "dude go back to rehab. You're talking to a moon llama."
And so he did.
The end.
.............................................................................................
David Bowie was surveying the parcel of land that seemed to stretch to nowhere. There was a chill wind in the air which was strange for that time of year, stranger still that there was any wind at all on the moon, as the moon has no atmosphere, which makes the whole wind thing highly unlikely. So it was a strange day indeed.
Anyhoo.......
"Semmthin taint right heah" muttered Bowie as he mopped his glittery brow....."I smell trouble." His companion grunted in affirmation, the steadfast pistolero was a llama of few words but you could read his black moods clearly in the way he spit or shivered his hindquarters and at this moment spit was spittling and hindquarters were shivering quicker than a 1970's motel room bed that had just been fed a fistful of quarters.
Trouble was nigh.
Bowie and the llama moved slowly ahead on the backs of their large space seahorses looking for what they didn't know, they just knew that whatever it was, it was coming and soon. Bowie turned as he heard a rock clatter behind him and there before him was what he half expected to find and dreaded more than having to eat Mama Bowie's cream of mushroom and sweet potato quesadilla sopapilla surprise. "The guddum monkey...........I knew it", he muttered. "State your business monkey and clear off willingly or get cleared by me and the llama. You know if I was willing to do the China Girl video I ain't skeered or too proud to do you in like I did all my Ziggy Stardust era credibility."
The monkey laughed the laugh of a thousand Full House live studio audiences full of demons and shouted from his perch "CHINA GIRL WAS AWESOME COMPARED TO THE PANTS....HEY YOU KNOW BOWIE WHAT PANTS YES BOWIE YOU KNOW TELL ME BOWIE WHAT'S UP WITH THOSE PANTS YOU WORE IN THAT DANCING IN THE STREET VIDEO WITH MICK JAGGER BOWIE HAH?!!? WERE YOU HIGH AS HELL ON GLUE OR SOMETHING BOWIE TO WEAR PANTS LIKE THAT BOWIE? DID IMAN KNOW YOU WERE GOING TO WEAR THOSE PANTS BOWIE??!?!? WHAT DID JAGGER SAY BOWIE??!?!?! C'MON BOWIE TELL ME ABOUT THE PANTS TELL ME WHAT YOU WERE THINKING BOWIE ABOUT THE DANCING PANTS BOWIE?!?!?!"
Bowie pulled his 45. and took five clean shots at the monkey who suddenly evaporated into a cloud of fairy dust, gone for the moment but sure to return. He had regretted the pants for decades. He kept a bellyful of resentment and blame that he would foist on Jagger, on the bottle, on Nipsy Russell, on MTV and "Triple J", J.J. Jackson, (and to a lesser degree Martha Quinn with who he had fathered four carnival freaks), but deep down he knew he had only himself to blame for falling prey to the allure of those captivating billowing trousers. He was resigned to the fact that he alone would carry the curse of the weird Dancing in the Street pants and the monkey that came with it across the moon for the rest of his days, or at least until his lawyers could get a copyright injunction against YouTube and take down the videos.
As he glumly began the long ride back to his moon ranch and the waiting arms of Iman he noticed the llama staring at him quizically. "Wuts on yer mind llama?" he queried. The llama simply said, "dude go back to rehab. You're talking to a moon llama."
And so he did.
The end.
posted by Castor OiL at
9:10 PM
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1 comments
