POPEYE THE TRAILER MAN

It's been awhile because I've been stuck in some cerebral nexus between sanity and insanity, wondering if I should have been Popeye the Trailer Man, or go as myself for Halloween.

THREE WEEKS LATER...

But since it's long since Halloween, I know going as myself was scary enough. I had no trick or treaters, just calls to the police that there was a crazed lunatic giving toothbrushes out to kids whose mouths were jammed full of candy.

I guess I should get back to the dredge of lawless gang society. I get bored with myself so often, I taped a full size George Clooney picture to the mirror so I can surprise myself of how good looking I was waking up and walking into the bathroom. But when George doesn't follow my motions in the mirror, I realized I duped myself again.

THE CLOWNS MANAGED TO LIVE

Now we had to get on another hustle -- cocaine. Weed. Prostitution. Whatever racket would come. So the biker that lived next to me asked if I had any "girls" lined up. A disparate collage came to mind: Big, brown, black, yellow, skinny, red, mouthy, crass -- Suzie homemaker turned house whore.

Okay, lets ride the debauchery bus on this one. I asked the first two girls that came over to hang out if they would like to get paid 300.00 bucks, another 100.00 going to me and Biker Breath. Shockingly, the tart tot of the pair agreed without hesitation.

What happened next would haunt me the rest of my feral existence. A car that looked like a Cadillac hearse cruised up to the house and a grotesquely wrinkled man stepped out briefly. He saw the terrified look on the victim's face and scuttled back inside.

Death was alive and well

Under peer pressure, she got inside and I saw her hands agonizingly plant against the window. Her time was up. The Cryptkeeper was taking her to his vault of horrors.  Anguish flooded my cruel heart, then the fairy of money landed on my shoulder and reminded me of all the things I was going to buy from her torment.

Yes, I was not a cross bearing Christian back then but an incubus to mammon.

Two hours later the Tart came back in a rather jovial mood. Maybe the Cryptkeeper was long dong silver. In fact, he was impotent and couldn't rise to the occasion. Thank God. Viagra was still in it's prepubescent state back then. But he did buy her soiled undies for 300,00 bucks as he waited for the V's beta testing to conclude. What a swirl head.

The Giant Leap to Snow Mountain

Biker Breath said he had a connect that would front a kilo of cocaine. That was the big time. My mouth decided to run a marathon again to my girlfriend about all the money we were about to cash in on.  I adamantly told her to not tell Mrs. Biker Breath about the deal. Usually Biker wore the leather chaps in the family, but this was a whole other set of rules to play by. You owe guys that can front you a kilo, means you're dead if you lose their money.

Plan was simple. Use one of the dealer cars with plates to the pickup point. Don't take any of our own cars. There is no reason to bring guns and backup because there's no money exchange. If we were paying for it, yes, guns and backup.

When Biker comes home to take his car to the dealer lot -- his car keys are clutched in his wife's hands. She wasn't a happy chopper. Blabber mouth of the century -- my girlfriend, went over there to bake brownies and hot coca and talked about all the cocaine that was about to flow through the house.

The Clock was Ticking -- Dali knew a little something of Cocaine

Biker could lose his connect or head. The Misses was rip and roaring to tear into his hide. I showed up and saw the volcano about to pour from her head.

I looked at my watch -- we had 15 minutes to make it to the car lot, then a half an hour to get to the destination.

Biker drew back his fist to strike. My face went Rocky Dennis Mask stoic. Then my hillbilly adopted parents came out to see what the yelling was.

This was going down pretty badly. I would be kicked out for real if his wife laid on the horn what we were doing.

And that's it until next week.