I was sneaking through the bushes the other day, clinging to a trail on the edge of a steep valley when I found this. A creepy monument to bags of different crap. I quickly turned around, fully expecting to see a hydrocephalic Korean hillbilly with a banjo in one hand and a crudely fashioned war-axe in the other. Shiver. I'm pretty sure there was a torso heap under the plastic sheeting.
I went back to Dr. Stickem today, and he put needles in my face this time. I had to keep my eyes shut, because the sight of quivering needles coming out of my face made me feel uneasy. I'm open-minded, but I'm still not sure how needles in my face are supposed to clear up phlegm in my throat. I was wondering if the quack would pull a chicken liver out of my stomach, in a John of God-style psychic surgery. And the murky crap I've gotta drink is foul. It knocked me out last night while I was watching Hitman (merciful then), remote still in hand. I woke up a few hours later and wondered why Hitman had become blurred-out Korean soft porn. Life is funny. On the subject of the blurred-out bits, I bet some Koreans raised on those late-night blur and wince-fests get a shock when it comes time for their first sexual encounter. "What the hell is THAT?"
No comments:
Post a Comment