CHAPTER
0009
MEGAHELL
ON STEROIDS
WOWSER-WOWSER-WOWSER,
OH GREAT EIGHTIES DOCTOR HOWSER. IT IS 82 AND FEELING 84 WITH A 55
PERCENT RELATIVE HUMIDITY. WEEEEEEEEEEE. I went out to two stores for
my mid month shopping errand, the Deals Store, and the great
wonderful Publix Store. I picked up the strongest roach killing
poisons on the market available to consumers, to compensate for my
horrendous problems here at this lovely and ever so darn marvelous
PUBLIC HOUSING AUTHORITY BUILDING, Mizz Bondi, AG of Florida. I put
in two work orders about a stopped up kitchen sink. Never in my
almost five years at this hell hole have I been simply ignored,
Usually the response time is hours. I knew the way I was being
treated by the R.M., Mizz Marotto, that something was wrong quite
some time ago, American Civil Liberties Union, and NAACP. Remember
that you can laugh all you want to, but I'll go to some powerful
service and prove in court that I am only a 90% calk. My father's
side of this family, on his father's side, is more fascinating a tree
line than any of you could possibly imagine. As I said, I know in my
heart, that my family is topic of conversation by many powerful
people and fawces of Mister HALL, all over this fucking ass planet. I
know that they sent into my life, a lot of things, and a lot of
people. I have only opened the doorway a dam crack as to all these
details, when I discuss music, or my old 1980 record promoter, Mister
William Leonard McKinnon. I really love my 10% brother even if he may
hate me, as I agree with him entirely on all those things that he
discussed ten days ago at the MMM-20th Reunion, with a
very peaceful attitude about it. The trouble is that a lot of my most
recent hell over the past ten years, and this is not something that I
can prove and I won't fake out for a minute that I could; but my
being a coffee-cream is a very dangerous thing to be. We have the
power to end the race problems by eventually graying things totally
out, and we plan to, all of us. I know others who unlike me, cannot
go through life in total secret should I want to, and I don't want
to. Unlike my dad who was fuckiGN ashamed of his dam roots, the
buttwipe; and joined up with the services as a result, on his
granny's signature when he was age sixteen; and left Toledo, Ohio
forever with hatred and malice towards his entire clan; I am a proud
mother fucking mix-raced person, or as I classify myself, a
COFFEE-CREAM. You know, as in there is the coffee, there is the
cream, and then there is the mixed folks like me, in whatever
fraction. My fraction is the smallest biological fraction possible
before my children, turn darker shades again, and the cycle repeats.
If course, this is further dependent on who we all marry and
reproduce with as well, Lenny Knowitall Rastafarian!!!!!!!!!!
My
mom used to totally believe in the so-called mystical or psychic
belief that when you say something or speak of someone, out of
nowhere, we see them or hear about them, or the thing that we speak
happens, like mother fuckiGN total Harry Potter magic. No one really
knows a thing. Some believe in this in wacky ways, while others
believe in more scientific ways; and then there are, as with all
things; all sorts of mixed raced ideas about both, you know, the
coffee-cream ideas about it. Still, all laughing and all jetty
tumbling and stair case chases aside here folks; just this morning I
said quietly under my breath in my shower before leaving for my
shopping errands and spending about a buck and a quarter, breaking me
for the month now; that being isolated and treated shitty is no fun,
but it is better than being used and made a slave of with total
ingrate and unappreciative folks like Ed or Dawn or Ann, and all of
that horrible family up there in Joysey without the dam joy. Aniwho,
MCMCAAONMC, as we used to say some time back in the days of the
dinosaurs; I got out of my car and was loading my groceries into a
shopping cart kept here for building usage such as this, and a lady
in a car near where I had parked, came up and asked me for a boost,
as she called it. This was called a jump back when I was in Joysey. I
told her I was sorry for being unable to assist her, that it is hot
and that my frozen meats would be ruined if I didn't get them up to
my apartment, which was the honest to god truth. Still, once upon a
time, I would do a favor for someone, but not after the way that I
have been totally abused and mistreated, year in and year out, day in
and day out decades and decades. No more favors for a fucking one of
you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SO-SAHWEE, Mister World War 2 Pearl Harbor
Japanese Ambassador, YO YO YO!!!!!
Last
night yet again, there I was in that gigantic building in some wild
parallel universe, where distant cuss DJT owns this place and runs it
like a real tyrant that he is all over hyperspace. I met the most
beautiful goddess, a friend of Diana's, sort of. They are known to
clash horns from time to time, just like LoriAnn from a distant
province, yet they remain somewhat cordial and friendly. This goddess
knew she was dreaming in the body of this beyond white hot giant
brunet, named Shabetta, spelling this name as she pronounced it. She
had the strength and athletic agility of the Incredible Hulk,
Sampson, and the Warrior Princess Zina, however she spells it; all
rapped up into one incredible six foot ten inch girl with bright
green eyes, and medium brown color hair down to her thighs. I was
unable to climb over some wall that I needed to get over, and she was
over it in a second, and then came back and with one powerful hand,
she grabbed me on my upper arm and literally threw me up and over. I
almost fuckign ejaculated in my sleep. I could fall madly in love
with that wild goddess in a New York city fucking ass heartbeat,
YO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Still, my new recurring almost serial dreaming
in this place, is kind of nasty and scary at the same time. I do not
like having weapons that can evaporate me into thin air, shot at me,
and I don't like Trump there any more than I like the nasty mother
fucker over here, scowling at me in all sorts of other nocturnal
interaction with that facial expression that only a mother could
love, god willing on her most merciful day perhaps. That's the joke
too, as he has a nice face, and in his younger days was considered
ungodly handsome by many coeds. I get around, and I know more fuckiGN
secrets about all of you big shit shots out there, than you dare want
me to, IPYT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
CHALL
TRY AND HAVE YOURSELVES A NICE DAY, WHILE I SIT IN HERE, WITH THAT
MOTHER FUCKING DIRT BAG ILLEGAL GUEST DOOR-SLAMMER, ALL FUCKING
AFTERNOON; WHO HAS BEEN PAID BY MY EVIL
TAWF DIRT BAG FAMILY, QUITE OBVIOUSLY, AND WALL STREET; TO HARASS AND
PERSECUTE ME; TO KEEP THAT BULL RALLY!!!!
THE
END!!!!!!!!!
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