That boy could fly. Nailed a cannonball from the rooftop and hovered above the Weber barbecue grill. He changed his name to Chopper and started smoking blunts in the treehouse and scored hash from heads who commandeered the In-N-Out Burger drive thru. He farted into marmalade jars and sniffed them under his Muppet sheets. He ate acid after family barbecues when his stepfather ambushed his sister in the squalor of the doghouse camouflaged in fire ants and feces from dragons. The cold-blooded thug sniffed highlighters and spit lyrics through his #2 pencil from the tallest limbs to orchestral moans of a jaundiced mechanic razing a shipwreck. He vomited and expectorated vodka on cocaine bark before wielding the butcher knife. Mom married a man who severed heads of pigs at Walmart. Half his life wasted with one wrist up a chicken's ass. I saw through the slits of Miss Piggy's cheeks. Kermit and Gonzo's nose and the Swedish Chef between my balls. I aimed for that drug dealer's scrotum and butchered his family treehouse. Dr. Bunsen Honeydew came to life as the lava flow spit from Rizzo the Rat.
Great Jones Street