Foxavier and Plinka - A Sample

Scatology 101: Those dirty scunspunsules.

The Pie Girl, on the corner of the bag, laughs at me. She got me. Righteous Farms is a subsidiary of Capsulsgrave Confections of North America. Stare her in the eye. It's all her fault. All of my life's failures are her fault. Don't believe, but feel like saying.

Don't blame her. She's just the pawn, the prostitute, a victim. The real villains are the pimps who get the big money. The ones who will burn in hell for a million years are those rich guys, who smoke their cigars and laugh at us poor schnooks gorging ourselves on slop.

Nobody cares about trans fat. They say, "But it tastes good." It takes years to cause a heart attack, so stuff your brains out.

Walked for two hours. Sit on the front steps and observe the universe. All is serene. A car pulls up. A guy about eighty gets out, goes to his trunk, takes out a food container and comes up the porch. "Howard Games?"

I point upstairs.

He announces himself, "Meals On Wheels."

Howard instantly opens his door. "Coming. I'm coming." Howard is beautiful, seventy, short, fat, and bald. His cartoon voice is slow, but loud, "Chicken and rice. Good. Did you bring the extra milk?"

"I just deliver the bags."

"Yes. They're here."

"Have a nice day."

"Thank you." Howard goes in his room. Meals on Wheels. Pretty sweet.

Watch people go by for hours. Have a perfect view of the expressway billboard. A white background with the gigantic symbols,

♥ = π

Stare at it for hours.

Scufo comes down. He has long hair and is tall and thin like a scarecrow, with a deep voice.

"You've gotta come see." We go up to Howard's Room. Rod, who has an afro and looks very strong, laughs. Howard stands in the hall, unusual.

Scufo opens the door and says, "Go in." The room is just big enough to hold a bed. You have to squeeze to walk around the bed. The top of his one dresser is packed with bottles of various cleaners.

"Why? What?"

"Just go in." Stick my head in. Then it hits me, a smell like chemical weapons, This was no ordinary funk.

Rod chuckles, "You can't mix bleach with ammonia."

Scufo reads the label, "Bleach."

Good times.

Pretty Tony comes over while I'm cooking fried chicken.

I tell him, "You lucked out."

"Tracy got all my money."