Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Hardly Even Know ‘Er #2

bobby 8 inches

“…so that’s about the size of it during normal conditions. But then we get towards the evening and the bases are loaded and tumescence commences, know what I mean? Talking about boners here, kid: Bobby’s the fucking KING of boners and you tell fucking Phil if you see him: you use those words, boy.

“First learned about its power in Saskatoon. Tough town, good people. Got heart, y’know?

“So, anyway, kid: I was roustabouting for a circus; they were trying to teach me the tightrope but the boners kept getting in the way, both literally and metaphorically. Just on the logistical side: I’d be up there with the big balance thing and: BOOM, boner and the force of the damn thing would knock the pole into the first row.

“It’s not normal, a boner like that. Not even once, but I gotta live with it: Bobby’s up or Bobby’s down and there’s no in-between. This kid don’t do half-chubs, y’see?

“It’s a blessing; it’s a curse. It’s a hell of a party trick, you hear that happy crappy?

“These boners made me irresistible to the women and a small, but demographically desirable, portion of the men.

“The circus boss was a cruel man, quick with his whip and slow with your cash; he once snapped the radio off right before the drum fill in that Phil Collins song.

“His wife, though, was Flexy Lexy. She was the contortionist and excellent at it: she could fit her entire body up her own asshole. This, unfortunately tends to warp reality a bit and once allowed entry to three of the the lesser, but still savage, Abandoned Gods. We all make mistakes.

“And, shit, man: she was sexy as fuck.

“I had to have her, even though the circus boss would surely kill me. She enticed me, enchanted me, she enraged me with her beauty and it angered me: I wanted to punch her in the mouth with my boner, and–

Okay, shut it down.

“You can’t interrupt me: when I use the quotations, it means the person from the photo is speaking instead of–

Your moronic rules about your mental disorders mean nothing to me: people are getting punched in the mouths with boners; shut it down.

Boo, you whore.

1 Comment

  1. It was recently recalled to me that on the occasion of a particularly uninspired presentation of a Howlin’ Wolf number during the 1989 spring tour I remarked “Bobby’s dick isn’t big enough to sing the blues right.” I must now reconsider.

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