For those who enjoy Jim Wright's writing, here's a commentary on something he saw the other day - Later, he decided the apparition must be named Snowshoe.
Jim Wright Thursday, August 15 at 7:12pm Call of the Wild. There was this ... girl in the parking lot. Maybe ... 15? 16? 14? I don't know, I'm not good at guessing that kind of stuff even under the best of conditions. Anyway, she was dressed up like a ... well, I don't know what you'd call it exactly, some kind of Japanese cartoon character. Anime? Cosplay? Baboon on blotter acid? (do they still have that stuff? LSD, not baboons). Pink hair like cotton candy with big fox-like ears poking through. Dirty white furry boots. Mini-skirt with her little ass hanging out. Little pink corset vest thingy with her junior high boobs smooshed out the top. Makeup and facial ornamentation that looked like it had been applied by a monkey with a head injury using a dry-wall texture-sprayer and a box of magic markers - and a nail gun, since she'd been violently pierced (and yes, you may take that anyway you like, it appears she does. But I digress). She had more chrome in her face than a classic flathead Harley. She was clutching a big blocky phone the way a hobo holds a bottle with one swallow left. She was lip-locked with some grungy looking kid about her age, at least I think it was a kid. It could have been a roadkilled muskrat or one of those yappy little dogs that look like a mop that's been dipped in filthy water and run through the wringer about one too many times. He resembled nothing so much as a tangled ball of greasy straw-colored hair like a sullen tribble perched on top of a coat-rack draped willie-nilly with dirty clothes, or any random extra from the cast of Sid and Nancy strung out on smack and 70's East Ender punk music (God save the Queen, she ain't no human being Oik Oik Oik!). I couldn't really make out a face, just a pair of mascara-rimmed glassy black ferret-like eyes surrounded by pimples and metal studs. I think he was going for "tough" but he looked more like a diseased pekinese that had fallen into the laundry hamper at Marilyn Manson's house. I couldn't tell if they were smooching, or if they'd somehow gotten their various oral hardware welded together. For some reason I was reminded of those pictures you sometimes see in National Geographic with skeletons of wild animals locked in death, their horns permanently snarled together. It was ... disturbing, like a dog humping a Teddy bear. On the bright side, at least I finally learned where muppets come from. -- You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google Groups "StrataList-OT" group. To unsubscribe from this group and stop receiving emails from it, send an email to [email protected]. To post to this group, send email to [email protected]. Visit this group at http://groups.google.com/group/stratalist-ot. For more options, visit https://groups.google.com/groups/opt_out.
