Once upon a time it would have been impossible to imagine an ambling ramble through the woods without my favorite nicotine delivery system. That was back when it was simple paper tubes stuffed with leaves, often with a fiber filter used as a false sense of safety feature on this system. But inhaling smoke from burning leaves is what it is. Now the price and complexity of nicotine delivery systems has escalated to truly systemic proportions. But my monkey, lizard, and concept to be identified later brain speaks as one with a resounding “No thank you.”
So I take my peaceful easy feeling delivery system of shimmering prurient phantasms from people and places that always have been, will be, and still are in their given moment; no matter what subterfuge my perception delivers to them.
Meanwhile, smoke em if ya got em and deliver us from systemic temptations.
Now will someone please show me the diagram for this delivery system.
Glaring mistakes are never as glaring as when I make them. But there they are. As a matter of fact those errors in due course often seem to have a glow all their own. Such as the gleam in the eyes of a googly eyed romantic such as myself. But as my past glares back at me I can only say it seemed like a good idea at the time.
So as I amble down the shimmering bike path of life I know the spicy carousel of my existence has been very good to me.
Yes, even the glaring omissions I see glowering at me from a distance. But they wouldn’t be omissions if I hadn’t omitted them.
Once off the carousel of my youthful pursuits my long thin blond animal traded me in for another and I found my life in TV Fi land. There I met the complete opposite. A short raven haired lacivious luscious ball of fire with dangerous curves in the most delightful places.
She was one specey spicy meatball.
Her cuisine was always a delight and never required an Alka Seltzer chaser.
Before the crack of dawn Katie finally barred the door at the Kiel Over Inn with that heavy metal beam. Only after a thorough wipe down and a vast quantity of bleach. She batted her large blue eyes at the inspector hoping the dormant and departed Standard Moxie and Libby Snippy would remain mute in their obscured cranny at Koehring Grand Central House. Katie’s only regret was that the battered and mangled Cyrus Plush had been discovered before she could place him to decay with his two decadent damsels for all of eternity.
As luck would have it Katie emerged after luxuriating in her Tiparillo smoke filled stall just in time to see Standard, Libby, and Cyrus exit the Kiel Over Inn’s swinging saloon doors. Needless to say Katie did not bar the doors at this moment, but rather exited out the back with the heavy metal door bar in tow. With only the squeak of the side gate to give away her pursuit which went unnoticed by our trio as geometrical possibilities and sweet satiation visions pulsed through them all.
Libby was the furthest thing from Standard’s mind this night in the Kiel Over Inn. She just felt the sweet ache in her jaw from last nights proceedings in the back office of this very establishment after last call. Armed with hotel room for tonight she would not be the only on doling out the lickin’. But when Libby entered the bar and covered the shortest possible distance between two points directly to Ms. Moxie, new geometrical possibilities arose for the nights enjoyment of tonight’s extremely large and lush Plush lollipop.
Slim Snippy and Libby Chaquita married very young. Or at least Libby did. Slim was four years her elder at a point in their lives when four years was a world apart. But they fell into a lip locked limb entwined embrace from the get go and didn’t let go until little Conrad Snippy was conceived. Libby became Snippy in short order and disastrous machinations were set in motion. In the little town of Kiel there was no margin for error.