| THE BOOK OF SKIPPY | |||||||||||||||||
| HERE GOES.....HOPE YOU ENJOY. | Read on please... | ||||||||||||||||
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When he was just twenty years old, Skippy came into an age of reason, somewhat like the Enlightenment of the 18th century. It seems that one day while enjoying the symmetry of the trees at a nearby forest preserve, he had experienced a revelation of sorts which told him that he was to lead the tribes of the prairie to the sacred grounds of Alpine Valley. After borrowing the great debtor card of his father, he invited the three chosen ones of the tribe to join him to the annual gathering of the Regional tribe of Deadheads. Skippy hesitated at first, thinking that perhaps by some strange coincidence he might happen upon his (in Cullom terms) �undesirable� friends at the Grateful Gathering of LSD dosed maniacs. For a price, anyone can escape the reality that weighs the normal sandwich into the depths of Hefty hell. A Hell that can be induced only by a consciousness that leads to thought. The thought in Skippy�s head was one of uncertainty. He thought for a moment and decided for the better. He thought that his head was a state of being which existed within himself. He thought it was absurd until he thought that he heard twice! Then he went inside and saw the flowers dancing and the people prancing. The crowd went wild! He decided to have another sandwich. Oh, he went outside and sat on the edge, She looked, viewing his tattered khakis and his tie-dyed JIMI HENDRIX shirt. She said, �Wow, that�s cooler than my roommate�s Prince shirt. (Skippy thought, �Fuck--what kind of bimbo have I got here?�) He politely replied, �I bet that shirt is BAD! She sighed, �yeah, other than yours of course.� He sighed. Judy saw Skippy in a different light, she saw, felt, lifted the life of Skippy and became one with his state of feeling. They thought for another moment or two and decided to go into the woods where their first meeting had occurred on a passion filled camping excursion in the West Indies, which was chosen by their parents from a pile of brochures from the family agent. The only reason Skippy and Judy had met, was that Skippy had been arrested for possession of drugs by a minor (though he wasn�t really a minor of any skill, he was just a coal minor). This offense carried a maximum penalty of giving the perpetrator the pleasure of a blow job from the campus whore. This was a highly undesirable situation for Skippy to be involved in. He and Judy had rekindled a flame in the ashes of an already scorched experience of peace, love and music at Woodstock. Then she did it-- she ate the last bugle--BITCH!!!! What kind of unfeeling, cold, calculating, bitchy, fucking, sucking, Blowing C__T would eat a starving, pitiless, poor excuse for a human being�s last crunchy, greasy, salty, tantalizing bugle? He didn�t really know but Skippy moved closer to the edge of the already decrepid rusting balcony of his 1,500,000 dollar condo and blew chow on the lovers who thought they had gone to bed, they lifted their asses and shook their noses at the world. They were subsequently injected with a fit of reality which they had never experienced before. The trees blurred, she stared, he stared, and it started all over again, but longer than the last time, do you see what I�m saying? They had planned to attend the historical event with the best degree of sobriety imaginable to living evoluted man. However, at the entrance to the festival, they were accosted by a homely looking fellow whispering �DOSES�. So Skippy, being the thoughtful samaritan he was, purchased a sheet of Purple Dragons from this nice young man. Skippy and Judy discussed the implications of multiple dose acid trips and decide to split the sheet for the final day of the gathering. When the day of reckoning arrived, the lovers carefully split the fifty hits of primo blotter acid and waited for the ensuing party swiftly approaching at breakneck speed towards their weakened, taxed, minds. Then Judy was on the ground flying into the oblivion of institutional incarceration. Falling, fleeting, hours whisked the hairs on the back of their necks. Britt, the attendant on duty found a relaxing motion directed towards the lovers (in the mental hospital, falling, fleeting hours. . . ) Up, Down, Skippy�s pulsating buttocks gyrated between Judy�s gymnastic thighs. Rough, smooth, up, down, continuous yet sporadic. Bang, Slap, crack, Judy squealed like the newborn piglets newly freed from the restricting envelope of placental tissue. |
They both collapsed in exhaustion. A heap of sweating, rank flesh pouring onto the grass (soaked in urine and feces) a heap of poisoned flesh, poisoned by the evil food of Timothy Leary. CHAPTER TWO The trip home was one of fear and apprehension. Skippy and Judy had bummed a ride from two nice men of Afro-American descent. One had hair only on the top of his head, and the other had a shiny geri curl. They told Skippy and Judy they were members of the Vicelord gang, and that the little guy had just gotten his license. They were apparently out cruising for their first drive-by shooting. Skippy suddenly envisioned the kitchen table, and on that table was his wallet. He thought about what was in his wallet: 1. Social Security card 2. a crusty condom 3. His driver�s license. Then it struck him--it was time to renew his license! He politely asked the black men if they would pull into the next driver�s license station. �Straight up man,� said the larger one. They pulled into the station at Joliet and Skippy thanked the guys, then Judy kissed them. They drove away flashing signs and waving arms. Skippy realized he didn�t have a car-- �But wait, said Judy, you don�t always have to drive to renew.� Skippy didn�t hear her say anything, he wasn�t even there. He was at this house sitting on his couch with the dog he called Spot. It seems Spot had no eyes or nose and wasn�t able to walk more than 4 or 5 feet per day, but Skippy loved him and called him Jake. When Jake was a puppy, he had attempted to remove a chew treat from the window fan in Skippy�s room. In the process his nose was sheared from his face, and as he bolted away towards the opposite window, everything went black. When he woke up he was in the front yard with a shard of glass in each eye. He could not see Skippy, he could not smell Skippy, because--Yes he had no nose. Skippy rushed Jake to the delicatessen and picked up a pound of bologna and three pounds of limburger cheese. Then they rushed to the hospital where Skippy had a CAT scan and gave blood. When they were finished there, Skippy drove Jake to the Vet to get his shots and time permitting to have his wounds doctored. But the vet was closed and they went home. Skippy decided he had to fix Jake himself. He ripped the glass out of Jake�s eyes and replaced his eyes with green marbles, (to stop the bleeding and to give the illusion of eyes for Jake�s mental well-being). Then he replaced Jake�s little black nose with a Groucho Marx nose and moustache. Green, Green, Green can green be the color that I see thought Jake. Why? I don�t know. When Jake�s wounds had healed and Skippy was refueled with blood, (he gives a quart at a time for the money you know) Skippy and Jake went to the house where Judy resided (her home, or Judy�s house whatever you want to call it). Jake was in his custom made satin plush lined wheelbarrow licking his matted, flea infested body. Skippy was wearing his new tie and bell-bottoms jeans he purchased at the local Thrift shop for 28�. He was looking RIGHTEOUS. (In his tie and bell-bottoms, that�s all nothing else) Oh--by the way, Judy wasn�t at home. It seems she had been institutionalized by her parents after telling them about kissing the black men after the ride from Alpine. Skippy came home from guitar ensemble and smelled burning fishsticks in the oven. So he turned it off and had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. �Why?�, I don�t know. Why would anyone chose PB&J over crispy charcoal fishsticks? It happens that Jake was the bastard son of CUJO, the evil St. Bernard that America loves so well. Anyway when Jake�s accident left him incapacitated, his wife, Loretta, was found dead on the street apparently of injuries to the privates. She had by all estimations been gang raped by a marauding band of vagabond Tom Cats. Her flesh had been ripped from her now seeping carcass and she had been violated by as many as 25 tom cats while being tortured and taunted by the Feminine felines. Skippy was outraged and ordered that all tom cats in the immediate area be exterminated. The neighbors all participated in the tom hunt and brought 15 of the 25 suspects to justice. Realizing that killing these scroungy beasts would be considered against the law, Skippy ordered each one to be neutered and infected with the Herpes virus. This way they would feel the pain forever and their sex lives would go to shit! | ||||||||||||||||
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What will happen to Jake? Will Skippy and Jake ever be as happy? Well to find out.... Go to the next page!! | |||||||||||||||||
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