I might be fired, but she has water weight.
Her buttermilk jugs shake like green Jello. Uh
oh. What do I know? What’s that, Olive Oil?
Who craves cherry pie? Not me, thanks. No, I’ll take
apple pie a la mode and coffee with cream
like a real American – like Dusty Rhodes.
This world is fiction. American Nightmare.
Go shorty. It’s your death day. Wait. That ain’t right.
It’s whatever you want it to be, ok?
It’s like Stevie Nicks bleated, “You can go your
own way.” Ok. Cool. Thanks for your permission.
Really enjoyed listening to you sing songs
from the Rumors album over and over.
Maybe come up with some new material.
I once worked with a girl named Olivia
up in Toledo at a pizzeria.
She usually wore her brown hair in a
ponytail. She wore Adidas track pants so
tight you always saw panty lines. Giggidy.
What a sight to behold. Best rump I’ve ever
seen in my life, apologies to my good
friend Meghan, who’s pretty much my sister now.
I guess that makes me Jamie Lannister. So?
I wonder what that girl up north is up to.
I hope she’s free and clear of all obstructions.
I pray she’s seen a commercial for Southwest
Airlines recently and suggest recording
in New Orleans with Daniel Lanois. Oh
yeah, and one more thing my lovely Arch lady:
the name of our country is “Us.” United…