27 April 2006

Young Black Ladies

I see two young black ladies before I head off to the saw dust jungle each work day. The first rolls over on her back, likes it when I rub her belly and lets out a thundering fart that would make a logger on leave sitting drinking the cheapest beer in Dope City after slugging out a couple crack heads at midnight in the Grand Union pub proud.

The second black lady greets me by the front door each morning. She is the new black lady in my life. She lives in a crack in the wall but spends the night sitting on the porch of her home eating. When I approach she scurries back into her crack, her beady eyes shooting lasers of love in my direction like she is a wired up Canadian assassin taking dead aim on Taliban tonight. She is my little spider friend. She is getting bigger and bigger. One day I might get the urge to squish her motherfucking head in.

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