Hotline Bling(Ecce Homo Megamix)

Un.

George Costanza grew tired of lugging around his Zion filled suitcase so he ducked into the nearest restroom. When I found him, he was being haggled in the mirror. "Behold the schmuck!" the mirror screamed and having said all there is to say, the mirror didn't know what more to say. Then George belly flopped out of a window. His form was technically sound, if a bit showy. Hundreds of feet later, fourth quarter stocks plunged headfirst through a passerby's windshield. The next morning, water-cooler chat was speculative. Single ply toilet paper or double? Did George bother to wash his hands before the jump? When you left me for someone else, did the studio audience burst into flames or something more combustible. Laughter perhaps?

Deaux.

Late night when you'd need my and I needed you to need my,

so I soared to the occasion with the bodily comportment of Barton Fink. 

Which was I?

a. the miscast lead

b. the pig slop curricula

c. the mustachioed referent

or D above all

• 
  
  
• 
  
• Trois and Trois
• again.

I never saw the banana peel placed before my crescendo and then it happened;  me readied for the old "turn-and-cough", your hands cupped around my oblivion. Claps but no applause-hence the burning sensation of sexually transmitted futurity. Perennials exit the room wilting. My jizzum simply dries.

Reviews

[_mal]

You have such a powerful way with words. Makes me think of false rape accusations, or maybe just that dirty used feeling that comes with some loves. How little people really give a f**k.

I don't know, either way this gives me a lot to think about. Time to reread again methinks. Thanks.