19th May

Reversing on a Slope

Seeing Slope I began to sing, “Yankee Doodle Dandy –"
“Stuck a feather,” Slope sang, “in his butt and called it macaroni.”
“That’s bloody rubbish,” I said.
“Bloody rubbish!” Slope said. “That’s a used tampon.”
“Jon’s lookin’ for somethin’ more inspirational,” Red said.
“If he puts a finger in his butt, that’ll inspire him,” Slope said.
“You’re sure fixated on sticking things in butts this fine morning, Slope,” I said.
“When you get fucked so many times, you wanna fuck someone else,” Slope said. “The English know all about that – the sneaky bastards.”
“Sneaky!”
“You sneaked up via New Orleans. Goddam frickin’ shifty Limey characters.”
“Shifty!” I said. “Us Brits are well-mannered and honest.”
Slope eyes narrowed with disbelief.
“Slope’s givin’ you the stink eye,” Red said.
“Like that, Slope?”
“Are you sayin’ the history books wuz wrong,” Slope said. “Puh-leeze.”
“How’s Xena doing?” I asked.
“Why?” Slope said. “Are you tryin to smack that brown Cheerio?”
“You’ve got to remember,” Red said, “cheerio means somethin’ else in England. Cheerio, old boy, I’ll see you for high tea at Harrods.”
“Jon ain’t doin’ no high tea at goddam Harrods.” Slope said. “He was too busy eatin’ Ecstacy and scratchin’ his balls all night.”
“We didn’t scratch our balls.” I said. “We did silly things with Vick’s Inhalers.”
“Didn’t you Limeys start all that rave shit out here? Doin’ the E thang, man. I’ve only seen that shit on TV. MDMA. But I do know a little bit about the chemical composition at the molecular level. Gotta love American chemists,” Slope said. “How d’yuh think them GIs marched across Europe in the middle of winter? Spun outta their minds they wuz on good dope. Government speed. Nonna that made-outta-sinus-pill shit.”
“You ever use lube, Slope?”
“Hell yeah! How d-yuh Limeys keep friction down in yer motorceeckles?”
“How about water-based lube? Do you prefer that?”
“Well in your machine shops - “
I couldn’t contain my laughter when Xena arrived. Xena, who had heard the lube questions, laughed too.
“Grrrrr!” Slope said. “The goddam Limey’s askin’ lube questions, and I’m figurin he’s talkin’ about greasin’ motorceeckles, when he’s reckonin’ on ridin’ the ass with it.”

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Copyright © 2006-2007 Shaun P. Attwood