Monday, November 21, 2011

Blurry Vision

I can't see well enough to drive but I will try to type a Rain Man summation of my recent two days. 18 mm socket, specialty for use in removing the caliper bracket to expose the rotor to remove the rotor on the grand marquis...also, turn the steering wheel to allow for maximum leverage with torque bar. Finishing rotors moments before driving to Delaware to get closer to Cuban utopia village farm....
lost in Seacaucus, NJ.
"I'm asking for direction."
"No. Just go straight. I can see the Meadowlands."
"Excuse me, which way to 95? Back the other direction? I thought so."
"He doesn't know what he's talking about. EVERYONE LIES!"
"This is a dead end? Really? Thanks. I'm turning around."
"I'll pick this truck up and carry it across the meadow. Let me out. I'll walk home."

Hooters waitress paying for college with cleavage credits. I drink silently as Ultimate Fighters Pound each other into submissive headlocks and knees to the nose. I yawn as the violence is boring and eat a depressing pumpkin donut that bounces my glucose level off the ceiling so that it falls like a Lionel Richie melody onto the pits of my diabetes basement. I fall asleep watching TruTV Stupidest Criminals hit their nutsacks on railings. America is abomidable. I'm not proud of anything. Hunter Thompson is turning over in his grave.

"Riders Start your engine!"
The Star Spangled Banner ends in a roar of 2 stroke engines and a cloud of suffocating fumes. One rider makes it half way up the first hill and breaks his chain in half, stalls, falls down the hill, is disqualified after 80 yards. Oggy doesn't care until he stumbles down a steep trail and a tree branch as sharp as a nail punctures his shoe, his sock and the bottom of his foot and soaks his foot with blood. He goes back to find the stump and saws it off underground with his teeth. He's like the Honey Badger and falls asleep in the truck after waiting for 50 minutes to see someone he recognizes. Goes back to the truck and sees the human lawnmower limping home after crushing a tree with his ribs. Tree collisions are a theme as another rider was impaled by a tree branch through his boot to a depth of two inches. He saved the bloody stump for his 40 something war stories told through a gray beard.

Then WAWA milkshakes and Hot Dogs and french fries fuel his diabetic coma and he slurs words and nods off for 7 hours as he drives halfway across Pennsylvania before he realizes his mistake. Luckily, the chicken farmer is passed out in a Percocet Dream with demerol nymphs flying him to a land of luxury so he never notices (though he suspects) the mistake.

Irresponsible actions breed pain babies too numerous for nurseries. My ego is a charity case and my foot has a chunk of wood in the soft bottom and my shoes have no sole. Land of the Fee, Home of the Naive.

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Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.