waldopaper

Stone Moon 

Underneath a bushel your little light won’t shine.  That’s why you gotta wear that steel pot on your head beanie.  Now go find Cecil.  Called all the noobs beanie.  As in green bean.  As in Beanie and Cecil.  So fancy meeting Beanfield Hank in Frisco right after he gets outta the war and into his new bike.  Beanie, me and a borrowed Honda was all adopted by the hippies in Hash berry… after the Summer of Love of course.  Missed out on that shit.   Over before we could grow our hair.  Annie who… 

Aint gonna happen El Tee sezeye to Cecil and his radio bean.  Bo Peep is ten clicks away.  In the dark.  With snake holes full of Charlie.  Who just then blew their little lights out with a rocket wondering off into the sunset.  He aint gonna golf no more sezeye to the bean.   The noob had big fried egg eyes and a nose like a cherry.  Forget the fuckers name.  Any who.   It was one helluva night.  The noob looked like one of Santa’s elves that fell off the gun truck.  Gun truck.  Shit.  We couldn’t get back there on a gook bike. 

But there he was.  In my hole.  Just as the fun began.  Going outside to play with Charlie.  You stay here and shoot anything that aint me.  It was near daylight when I got back.  Had to knock on his helmet to wake him up.  You girls know what I’m talking about:  Mr. Fuck n’ Snooze. Late for the party.  Never goes home.  Well he did.  But in a rubber bag.  But I digest.  Charlie was hard corn man.  For real.  Hank delivered ordinance on his ass every day and Charlie wouldn’t quit.  And now I killed your vibe.  Shit. 

Sorry about that.