BLOWOUT
Gloria found them sleeping on the bathroom floor.
‘What in the holy hell are these?’ she fired off as I relaxed in a supine position watching Columbo.
Approaching the lip of the bed, she raised my Mighty Grey. Underwear I had bonded with since my stint in college.
‘They are literally shredded in the back, like you slow danced with a chainsaw!’ she continued with condescending mock laughs that filled termite holes surrounding me.
‘Those, I will have you know are the one and only Mighty Grey! We have been through many battles as one,’ I quipped.
‘Well, the Battle of the Trashcan is on the horizon, and I don’t see cotton as being victorious!’ she countered.
‘It took me decades to form those natural sulfur-reducing air pockets,’ I volleyed as I gradually accepted Mighty Grey’s destiny and shoved another Pringle into my beard hole while soggy cigar investigations cried on television.
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Berthed from mischievous leprechauns near technicolor shadow lands surrounding Honah Lee, Theodore Wallbanger rides mysterious sparkle railcars bursting with crunchy cotton candy clouds dispatched from slippery erotic massage vixens who rage pillow laugh hourly within a splintered transportation module that screams along butterscotch wonder tracks forming vibrations for audiences across Sugar Hill Mountain.
Image generated on Magic Studio
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