All you need is love... And a cigarette after.
The ballad of Poppy McCoy and Coya McPop is a nice song and it would be very interesting if you heard about it, because I’ve just composed it this morning, in the bath. Maybe you have heard me, over the Atlantic, and the beauty of it just made you to be ready to read this post. Which is a small love story of two incredible ugly elves. I allowed them to live a decent hidden life on my refrige and, to be honest, I am ready for several good days to share my proudness for my kindness with you.
I just asked them to pee from time to time in the soup of my neighbours, during the night. Which is a fair deal, I suppose. Let introduce them first.
He is 50% an Irish guy and 50% a Congo guy. Just because his mother, the famous witch Balooba Foofoosh loved a full season set of actors from Kunta Kinte movie.
She had to use a lot of incantations to make possible the sex between her, a being of about 8 inches tall, and a pretty solid guy of about 120 kilos harmoniously distributed around his genital organ.
Miss Coya McPop was born somewhere in a station of the New York railway. She lost her parents at age of about 20 minutes, because they just get the very first train after the little Coya was succesfully ejected. She heard that her mother was an unlucky russian fairy, while her father, called Abdul Zaziz, was a mad genie looking all the time for his lost lamp. She didn’t ever meet them, and she used to say about this: Grrroohm upzuli fahum!. A good translation from elf’s language could be Fuck them now / with my charmed saw!
Two young elves trained hard to survive in a cold, tough world. Poppy McCoy and Coya McPop have met some good years ago, while he was trying to spit on all windows from a skyscraper of 142 floors. At floor #132 he was almost ready to quit, when she, the pure and always smiling Coya, appeared and gently said to him:
Hi, champ! Please let me to continue your honorable work!.
Hummm. Ok!, said Poppy, and he enjoyed a lot to see how his future girlfriend started to spit all around from floor #132 up to the anthena from the roof.
When all the roof was covered by a layer of about 5 inches of spit, Poppy said, full of joy:
I love you!, and she said I love you too!. And they’ve gone in honeymoon somewhere in South America. It seems that in that period the Amazon increased with several good inches, which should be a clear sign that the two young elves had a real good time. In that morning I was drinking my coffe, looking with a sad feeling at the refrigerator. It was two weeks since the memorable moment when I had good reasons to open its door, to take the last beer from it. But soon, I thought, good times should come again.
There are only ten days more until the shinny day of salary would come, I said to myself, ready to accept an Oscar for the role of the good guy starving full of dignity.
Of course, it was a lie. That salary would come after three years, when I planned to start to work. But, you know, sometimes is nice to lie and to be lied.
Suddenly, a voice around said:
Hi, boss!
Get lost, Darius!, I said, believing that it is my dog begging again for some food.
Why are you so grumpy, boss? You should celebrate the miracle that they didn’t detonate the atomic bomb. Yet. Be happy, dance, sing and make sex, boss! You are really lucky to be still alive!
That moment I realised that actually this is true. More than that, it should not be Darius the one that was speaking, simply because Darius doesn’t care about atomic bombs. Actually, he use to detonate one per each damn hour, and even often in the days when I cook beans food.
Then I saw them. Two small elves looking around for a good place to be targeted. It was pretty clear that I had in my house a new terrible weapon, the spit bomb! Two bombs, to be more exactly (I loved math, once upon a time…)
Who are you guys, and why do you spit all the time?, I asked, with a very scientifical approach in scratching my nose.
We are Poppy McCoy and Coya McPop and we spit because it’s funny.
Hummmm…!, I thought, ….interesting, I will try it myself later.
Ok. Be it your way. Here it’s the deal: you can stay on my refrigerator the next four centuries, without any rent pay. Instead, you have to spit in whatever direction I want.
This way I got two elves who spit for me.
My target for tomorrow will be the Pentagon. Of course, for one billion bucks I can forget about it and target Moscow instead. …You know what?!, let it be only two bucks. Deal?
Because the life is tough
We fart and pee enough.
Because we love to blink
We pee and sing and drink.
(Hannibal 'Retarded' Hurricane, the champ of wrestling.
Poem was firstly read when he got the Pulitzer. From an
old guy who had a heart-attack in a railway station.)
(c) marius09.wordpress.com
(c) 2009 marius09.wordpress.com
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