Sorry I aint been postin' nothin' fr a while. I had ta spend a little time inna pokey fr solicitin'. Can you believe that?? I said t' th' judge: "Honey, do I look like a freakin' solicitor??"
Well, apparently it was the whorin' they took exception to. Why they couldna jus' said that in the first place I don' know. I got busted while I was givin' Sheriff McClusky a little light relief. Then he says: "Honey, you're under arrest". Just like that. I said: "Sheriff, a gennleman woulda at least zipped his pants up first!"
I pointed out the injustice o' this t' th' judge. He said: "Ma'am, Sheriff McClusky was doin' it inna line o' duty". I said: "Waddaya think I was doin' it for, fun!?" I mean Sheriff McClusky aint no Brad Pitt, know waddimean? I said: "At least it is on my job description!" But my protests fell on stony ground an' I git a whole year inna pokey jus' fr givin' Sheriff McClusky a good time... well, and slammin' him inna puss, I guess. Kickin' th' judge inna pod prob'ly didn't help much either. He sure won't be round t'see me fr a while.
Anyway, I'm back on th' streets an' word is we gonna git us a whole new paradigm. I don' even know what a paradigm is but I jus' love gittin' new stuff!
Well, my friend, Cheryl says it's all to do with this 2012 thing. She says we gonna enter a new phase inna evolution o' mankind. I said: "Honey, that's gonna be a helluva New Year party!"
She says we gonna do away with th' monetary system an' we aint gonna have no government. I said: "Honey, I aint never had no monetary system an' th' only sign I ever see that we had a government inna first place is when congressmen call in t' th' ol' bordello fr a quick manifesto. Know waddimean?"
Cheryl says all that's gonna change. She says Mankind gonna git up off of his knees. Hmmm! Seems t' me that I been th' one on my knees while Mankind stands there gruntin' "Yeah baby! Ooh yeah!"
Cheryl says I'm gonna git up off of my knees too. I said: "Well, in that case, Honey, ya better git Mankind a box t' stand on 'cause I aint bendin' my back fr nobody!"
I sho' dunno where she gits her ideas from. She says we headin' fr a Noo Dawn. Well, I tellya, I only ever seen the Old dawn once... an' that was before bedtime. Know waddimean?
Th' way I see it is, if we gonna head into some Noo Paradigm, we gonna havta make a lotta changes. Guys gonna havta realise they got balls fr a reason apart from scratchin'. They gonna havta figure out that Life is somethin' y'LIVE, not somethin' y'win. An' they gonna havta improve their aim. I'm sick an' tired o' moppin' up round the john after 'em.
Guys gonna havta start gittin' they act together 'cause us gals been waitin' at the main entrance o' this Noo Paradigm since like forever, jus' waitin' fr 'em t'stop jerkin' around an' catch up.
Saturday, 7 August 2010
Sunday, 19 July 2009
Creepin' doubts
I jus’ read the Pope can’t pray on account o’ his wrist bein’ in plaster. I woulda thought the Pope, of all people, woulda had a more direct contact method than the ol’ hands-together routine. I aint sure that method is all that reliable anyhow.
I been droppin’ off the odd prayer now an’ then since I left St. Barbarell-of-the-Lash justa keep in touch, ya know waddimean? Zilch. Nada. Not even an autoresponder.
I thought at first he jus’ wasn’t returnin’ my calls on account o’ me fallin’ by the wayside an’ all but I’m beginnin’ to wonder if that ol’ divinity technology aint got a few bugs in the system. Maybe it’s time The Boss got an’ upgrade. In my last prayer, I suggested he start a blog, but, like I said, He aint returnin’ my calls.
Jus’ lately though, I been havin’ some worryin’ thoughts. Started out innocent enough. I was paintin’ my toenails an’ it occurred to me that, if we was created perfect, how come we need all this maintenance? Why did’n He jus’ give us red toenails, huh? Maintenance-free.
Anyhoo… this led on to other thoughts an’ I started to question it all. Now, Mother Superior always tol’ me that doubt is a sin an’ we all know that, for a merciful God, he can be one helluva sonofabitch when he’s riled.
But I been sinnin’ all my life an’ he aint done nothin’ to me. He had his own clerk whipped for sittin’ down in his presence (see my piece on Metatron). Me? I been lyin’ an’ drinkin’ an whorin’ an’ cussin’ an’ he aint even called me into his office to bawl me out.
Maybe he’s losin’ his edge. He’s been at it for a long time now so I guess he’s gotta reach burn-out eventually but I don’ know. I been thinkin’… maybe there aint nobody home. Know waddimean?
I know this guy, Leroy. Leroy’s an atheist fundamentalist, y’know? He don’ even believe in Darwin. He gotta nice house, nice car, goes to Hawaii for his vacations an’ spends his whole life having a great time. Things jus’ don’ add up.
I been thinkin’ o’ becomin’ a lapsed Catholic… actually, come t’think of it, I am a lapsed Catholic. I guess the whorin’ coulda been the final straw in that. But I been thinkin’ maybe I should lean toward somethin’’ a little more liberal. Y’know, like an agnostic.
I could probably fit the whorin’ round bein’ a devout agnostic without too many conflicts o’ interest. I figured maybe I could make up for the whorin’ by bein’ a evangelist agnostic.
Well, I went all through Yellow Pages. Couldn’t find a Church o’ th’ Agnostics anywhere. I wondered ‘bout startin’ one cause there sure is a gap in th’ market. Problem is, I can’t find an agnostic minister neither. Dunno if my background o’ bein’ a novice at St. Barbarella-of-the-lash would qualify me. I doubt if I’d get much of a reference an’ besides, the whorin’ could be a problem with this.
I figured the best I could do is jus’ take to th’ streets (which I’m more’n qualified to do) an’ spread th’ word o’ agnosticism. Got me some magazine printed up (I called it “The Wha……?”) an’ went knockin’ on doors.
First guy opens his door, he says “Yeah?”
I says “Hi, pal. Got some good news for ya…. But, then again, maybe it aint good news an’ maybe yo’ don’ give a shit. I dunno. You decide”
He says “Wha……?”
I says “Sure pal” an’ slaps a copy in his hand.
I sho’ didn’t expect getting’ converts t’be be that easy!
I dunno how many folks I converted to agnosticism but the whorin’ sho’ has stepped up a notch.
Gotta go now an’ get some pamphlets printed up.
I been droppin’ off the odd prayer now an’ then since I left St. Barbarell-of-the-Lash justa keep in touch, ya know waddimean? Zilch. Nada. Not even an autoresponder.
I thought at first he jus’ wasn’t returnin’ my calls on account o’ me fallin’ by the wayside an’ all but I’m beginnin’ to wonder if that ol’ divinity technology aint got a few bugs in the system. Maybe it’s time The Boss got an’ upgrade. In my last prayer, I suggested he start a blog, but, like I said, He aint returnin’ my calls.
Jus’ lately though, I been havin’ some worryin’ thoughts. Started out innocent enough. I was paintin’ my toenails an’ it occurred to me that, if we was created perfect, how come we need all this maintenance? Why did’n He jus’ give us red toenails, huh? Maintenance-free.
Anyhoo… this led on to other thoughts an’ I started to question it all. Now, Mother Superior always tol’ me that doubt is a sin an’ we all know that, for a merciful God, he can be one helluva sonofabitch when he’s riled.
But I been sinnin’ all my life an’ he aint done nothin’ to me. He had his own clerk whipped for sittin’ down in his presence (see my piece on Metatron). Me? I been lyin’ an’ drinkin’ an whorin’ an’ cussin’ an’ he aint even called me into his office to bawl me out.
Maybe he’s losin’ his edge. He’s been at it for a long time now so I guess he’s gotta reach burn-out eventually but I don’ know. I been thinkin’… maybe there aint nobody home. Know waddimean?
I know this guy, Leroy. Leroy’s an atheist fundamentalist, y’know? He don’ even believe in Darwin. He gotta nice house, nice car, goes to Hawaii for his vacations an’ spends his whole life having a great time. Things jus’ don’ add up.
I been thinkin’ o’ becomin’ a lapsed Catholic… actually, come t’think of it, I am a lapsed Catholic. I guess the whorin’ coulda been the final straw in that. But I been thinkin’ maybe I should lean toward somethin’’ a little more liberal. Y’know, like an agnostic.
I could probably fit the whorin’ round bein’ a devout agnostic without too many conflicts o’ interest. I figured maybe I could make up for the whorin’ by bein’ a evangelist agnostic.
Well, I went all through Yellow Pages. Couldn’t find a Church o’ th’ Agnostics anywhere. I wondered ‘bout startin’ one cause there sure is a gap in th’ market. Problem is, I can’t find an agnostic minister neither. Dunno if my background o’ bein’ a novice at St. Barbarella-of-the-lash would qualify me. I doubt if I’d get much of a reference an’ besides, the whorin’ could be a problem with this.
I figured the best I could do is jus’ take to th’ streets (which I’m more’n qualified to do) an’ spread th’ word o’ agnosticism. Got me some magazine printed up (I called it “The Wha……?”) an’ went knockin’ on doors.
First guy opens his door, he says “Yeah?”
I says “Hi, pal. Got some good news for ya…. But, then again, maybe it aint good news an’ maybe yo’ don’ give a shit. I dunno. You decide”
He says “Wha……?”
I says “Sure pal” an’ slaps a copy in his hand.
I sho’ didn’t expect getting’ converts t’be be that easy!
I dunno how many folks I converted to agnosticism but the whorin’ sho’ has stepped up a notch.
Gotta go now an’ get some pamphlets printed up.
2012 an' all that jazz
My friend Cheryl says we’re in the midst of a great shift in consciousness. I said "Honey, I been tryin to shift my consciousness for years an it aint budgin". Apparently it’s all got somethin to do with 2012. What the hells that all about?? Cheryl said we’re gonna ascend. I said "Honey, I live in a trailer park! What the hell do I need an elevator for?" Cheryl’s a good kid but she don’t think things through. Know waddimean?
This is the way I see it: If somethin’s gonna happen in 2012 only nobody knows what it is… well, we might as well jus’ carry on as if nothin’s gonna happen, right? I mean, if the world’s gonna end, waddaya gonna do? Wear a crash helmet? Hide in the cellar?
If we’re gonna ascend, well, jus’ how we gonna do that exactly? Anybody know? Is this somethin’ spiritual or are we gonna get sucked up some cosmic vacuum hose? Only I wanna know ‘cos I jus’ aint good with heights. I’m OK with cramped spaces but heights make me all… anyway, I’m getting off subject here.
If we’re talking ‘bout something spiritual, well, what’s altitude got to do with it? Why does everybody assume we’re goin up insead o’ sideways? I mean, spiritual’s spiritual, right. Don’t make no diff’rence if we go up, down, sideways or diagonal. Know waddimean?
Who came up with this 2012 thing anyhow? I heard it was some broad called Maya. Anybody know where she hangs out? Only I wanna word with her. I don’ think she’s givin us all the facts. Lotta details left out. Know waddimean?
Sure beats me how everybody got to hear ‘bout all this stuff. I watch the news an I aint heard nothin. Cheryl says it’s to do with crop circles. She says they’re made by aliens from the fifth dimension an they’re messages telling us we’re all gonna ascend in 2012. Well, I seen these crop circles and I aint seen nothin that says that.
I mean, if these aliens are so smart, why don’ they leave messages we can all understand, right? I mean, I aint smart (though you prob’ly figured that out already) but, if I wanted to leave a message like that, I’d jus’ write in big capitals: “FOUR MORE YEARS THEN WE’RE OUTA HERE! DON’ FORGET TO CANCEL THE MILK!” Nobody would be in any doubt ‘bout that, would they?
Now, I aint sayin it aint aliens. I don’ know. But it could just be people with an eye for exterior design. I mean, let’s face it, I wouldn’t mind wunna them on my lawn… if I had a lawn, that is. It could be jus’ art. I guess it could be aliens an they’re writin in alien language but I aint so sure. Cheryl says I’m closed minded.
As soon as I get hold o’ this Maya gal, I’m gonna ask her what the hell she thinks she’s playin at, getting folks all fired up like this. I mean, jus’ supposing… now I don’ wanna bust nobody’s balloon but jus’ supposing 2012 comes an goes an nothin happens? This Maya gal’s gonna get her ass sued off.
We’re all gonna look like real jerks. Know waddimean? We’re all gonna be stood there with crash helmets an padded out with pillows jus’ lookin’ ‘round an the birds are singin like nothin was gonna happen anyway. Guys in the White House gonna crawl out from under their desks. G.Is in Iraq gonna look up over their sandbags at the Iraqis lookin over their sandbags an’ we’re all gonna feel real stupid.
Then we’ll realise how silly it all is an we’re gonna laugh like we never laughed before. Maybe then, somebody gonna look around at everybody laughin an say “Hey! I wonder if this is ascension?”
This is the way I see it: If somethin’s gonna happen in 2012 only nobody knows what it is… well, we might as well jus’ carry on as if nothin’s gonna happen, right? I mean, if the world’s gonna end, waddaya gonna do? Wear a crash helmet? Hide in the cellar?
If we’re gonna ascend, well, jus’ how we gonna do that exactly? Anybody know? Is this somethin’ spiritual or are we gonna get sucked up some cosmic vacuum hose? Only I wanna know ‘cos I jus’ aint good with heights. I’m OK with cramped spaces but heights make me all… anyway, I’m getting off subject here.
If we’re talking ‘bout something spiritual, well, what’s altitude got to do with it? Why does everybody assume we’re goin up insead o’ sideways? I mean, spiritual’s spiritual, right. Don’t make no diff’rence if we go up, down, sideways or diagonal. Know waddimean?
Who came up with this 2012 thing anyhow? I heard it was some broad called Maya. Anybody know where she hangs out? Only I wanna word with her. I don’ think she’s givin us all the facts. Lotta details left out. Know waddimean?
Sure beats me how everybody got to hear ‘bout all this stuff. I watch the news an I aint heard nothin. Cheryl says it’s to do with crop circles. She says they’re made by aliens from the fifth dimension an they’re messages telling us we’re all gonna ascend in 2012. Well, I seen these crop circles and I aint seen nothin that says that.
I mean, if these aliens are so smart, why don’ they leave messages we can all understand, right? I mean, I aint smart (though you prob’ly figured that out already) but, if I wanted to leave a message like that, I’d jus’ write in big capitals: “FOUR MORE YEARS THEN WE’RE OUTA HERE! DON’ FORGET TO CANCEL THE MILK!” Nobody would be in any doubt ‘bout that, would they?
Now, I aint sayin it aint aliens. I don’ know. But it could just be people with an eye for exterior design. I mean, let’s face it, I wouldn’t mind wunna them on my lawn… if I had a lawn, that is. It could be jus’ art. I guess it could be aliens an they’re writin in alien language but I aint so sure. Cheryl says I’m closed minded.
As soon as I get hold o’ this Maya gal, I’m gonna ask her what the hell she thinks she’s playin at, getting folks all fired up like this. I mean, jus’ supposing… now I don’ wanna bust nobody’s balloon but jus’ supposing 2012 comes an goes an nothin happens? This Maya gal’s gonna get her ass sued off.
We’re all gonna look like real jerks. Know waddimean? We’re all gonna be stood there with crash helmets an padded out with pillows jus’ lookin’ ‘round an the birds are singin like nothin was gonna happen anyway. Guys in the White House gonna crawl out from under their desks. G.Is in Iraq gonna look up over their sandbags at the Iraqis lookin over their sandbags an’ we’re all gonna feel real stupid.
Then we’ll realise how silly it all is an we’re gonna laugh like we never laughed before. Maybe then, somebody gonna look around at everybody laughin an say “Hey! I wonder if this is ascension?”
Thursday, 16 July 2009
Metatron the Rebel Angel
I jus’ been readin’ somethin’ ‘bout an angel called Metatron. Now, I don’t tend to bump into too many angels at the trailer park. Guess it jus’ aint that kinda neighborhood. Coupla whores with hearts o’ gold maybe but that’s as good as it gets.
Lemme tellya, I was a novice at St. Barbarella-of-the-Lash Convent… well, I was a novice till I got the hang of it. It was the gettin’ the hang of it that didn’t go down too good… or, to be precise, it was getting’ the hang of Father O’Flannigan but that’s another story.
Well we heard all ‘bout angels there but I never come across no Metatron though. How'd he ever get a cool name like that? I bet Gabriel was sore as hell (sorry Gabby, I mean sore as heck). I mean, a name like that really kicks ass, don’ it?
Now I still aint too sure who this Metatron is. Is he some kinda Avengin’ Angel? ‘Cos it sure sounds like it.
Now, I don’ wanna be disrespec’ful o’ Gabriel, I’m sure he’s a great guy… but can you imagine him confrontin’ a gang o’ crack-heads in Harlem? He’s only gotta say: “I AM GABRIEL!” an’ he’s gonna wind up in an alley with his halo round his neck an’ his wings up his ass.
Metatron sure sounds like the guy for that job. How come I aint heard o’ him before? Is he outa favor or what? I kinda imagine he’s a rebel angel. Y’know, a kinda maverick. Always bein’ bawled out by The Boss ‘cos they don’ approve o’ his methods but they hang on to him ‘cos he gets results.
I gotta tellya folks, jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout this guy makes me horny! I’m sure that would be regarded as a sin back at the convent but that aint nothin’ new. Sinnin’ was the only thing I excelled at. Everybody had their own special talent an’ mine was dirty habits (I aint talkin’ ‘bout laundry here. Know waddimean?)
Now I read Metatron was a scribe or somethin’. That’s kinda like a clerk, aint it? Anyhoo, he gets a lashin’ ‘cos he sat down in the presence o’ The Boss. Well, excuse me! That hardly counts as a sin in my book. Even the convent wasn’t that harsh an’ the nuns were real big on lashin’. I guess that was on account o’ St. Barbarella bein’ the Patron Saint o’ Guilt. She’d only havta hear o’ somebody havin’ an improper thought an’ she’d start lashin’ herself like a dogie in a fly-swarm. The nuns liked that.
Even after the episode with Father O’Flannigan I didn’t get a lashin’. I was “cast out”, though I like to think of it as “parole”.
I guess this Metatron musta caught The Boss on a bad day. I’ve wondered ‘bout this. The punishment don’ always fit the crime. Take the original sin. Y’know, eatin’ a banana. I know folks say it was an apple but there aint nowhere in the Bible that says it was an apple. Jus’ says it was a fruit. I reckon it was a banana.
Well adam an’ Eve been warned ‘bout keeping their thievin’ mitts off The Boss’s Bananas but Eve is tempted by a snake who says “Ooh! Lovely bananas! C’mon, honey… who’s gonna know? Have a banana” an’, as we all know, Eve gives in. Then she ropes poor ol’ Adam into her crime. She sidles up to him kinda sly an’ says “Wanna bite o’ my banana?”
He says “Where’d ya get that?”
She says “Never mind, honey. Jus’ have a bite” so Adam takes a bite.
Well, the rest is history but I wanna talk about the punishments dished out. First up, Adam gets the “Toil All Your Days” rap. Life sentence o' Hard Labor jus’ for takin’ a bite of a banana. Then Eve, who committed the crime o' sharin' a banana, gets the Pain o’ Childbirth thing (I think the cleanin’, cookin’ an’ pickin’ up dirty socks were thrown in for good measure).
By this time, the snake musta been sweatin’ like a bishop in a whorehouse (an' I should know 'bout that). But what does he get? Bearin’ in mind that he started the whole thing, he gets told he gotta crawl on his belly for all his days! Well, that musta been tough for a snake, eh? That’s the surfin’ skateboardin’ an’ football screwed! What the hell kinda justice is that?? I guess that’s why snakes always look like they’re smilin’.
So I reckon this Metatron got a raw deal an’ I kinda relate to him. I’m puttin’ my name down to have him as my Guardian Angel. Jus’ hope he aint fully booked.
And, hey… if he ever feels like rekindlin’ a little o’ the ol’ sinnin’, my door’s always open. Know waddimean?
Lemme tellya, I was a novice at St. Barbarella-of-the-Lash Convent… well, I was a novice till I got the hang of it. It was the gettin’ the hang of it that didn’t go down too good… or, to be precise, it was getting’ the hang of Father O’Flannigan but that’s another story.
Well we heard all ‘bout angels there but I never come across no Metatron though. How'd he ever get a cool name like that? I bet Gabriel was sore as hell (sorry Gabby, I mean sore as heck). I mean, a name like that really kicks ass, don’ it?
Now I still aint too sure who this Metatron is. Is he some kinda Avengin’ Angel? ‘Cos it sure sounds like it.
Now, I don’ wanna be disrespec’ful o’ Gabriel, I’m sure he’s a great guy… but can you imagine him confrontin’ a gang o’ crack-heads in Harlem? He’s only gotta say: “I AM GABRIEL!” an’ he’s gonna wind up in an alley with his halo round his neck an’ his wings up his ass.
Metatron sure sounds like the guy for that job. How come I aint heard o’ him before? Is he outa favor or what? I kinda imagine he’s a rebel angel. Y’know, a kinda maverick. Always bein’ bawled out by The Boss ‘cos they don’ approve o’ his methods but they hang on to him ‘cos he gets results.
I gotta tellya folks, jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout this guy makes me horny! I’m sure that would be regarded as a sin back at the convent but that aint nothin’ new. Sinnin’ was the only thing I excelled at. Everybody had their own special talent an’ mine was dirty habits (I aint talkin’ ‘bout laundry here. Know waddimean?)
Now I read Metatron was a scribe or somethin’. That’s kinda like a clerk, aint it? Anyhoo, he gets a lashin’ ‘cos he sat down in the presence o’ The Boss. Well, excuse me! That hardly counts as a sin in my book. Even the convent wasn’t that harsh an’ the nuns were real big on lashin’. I guess that was on account o’ St. Barbarella bein’ the Patron Saint o’ Guilt. She’d only havta hear o’ somebody havin’ an improper thought an’ she’d start lashin’ herself like a dogie in a fly-swarm. The nuns liked that.
Even after the episode with Father O’Flannigan I didn’t get a lashin’. I was “cast out”, though I like to think of it as “parole”.
I guess this Metatron musta caught The Boss on a bad day. I’ve wondered ‘bout this. The punishment don’ always fit the crime. Take the original sin. Y’know, eatin’ a banana. I know folks say it was an apple but there aint nowhere in the Bible that says it was an apple. Jus’ says it was a fruit. I reckon it was a banana.
Well adam an’ Eve been warned ‘bout keeping their thievin’ mitts off The Boss’s Bananas but Eve is tempted by a snake who says “Ooh! Lovely bananas! C’mon, honey… who’s gonna know? Have a banana” an’, as we all know, Eve gives in. Then she ropes poor ol’ Adam into her crime. She sidles up to him kinda sly an’ says “Wanna bite o’ my banana?”
He says “Where’d ya get that?”
She says “Never mind, honey. Jus’ have a bite” so Adam takes a bite.
Well, the rest is history but I wanna talk about the punishments dished out. First up, Adam gets the “Toil All Your Days” rap. Life sentence o' Hard Labor jus’ for takin’ a bite of a banana. Then Eve, who committed the crime o' sharin' a banana, gets the Pain o’ Childbirth thing (I think the cleanin’, cookin’ an’ pickin’ up dirty socks were thrown in for good measure).
By this time, the snake musta been sweatin’ like a bishop in a whorehouse (an' I should know 'bout that). But what does he get? Bearin’ in mind that he started the whole thing, he gets told he gotta crawl on his belly for all his days! Well, that musta been tough for a snake, eh? That’s the surfin’ skateboardin’ an’ football screwed! What the hell kinda justice is that?? I guess that’s why snakes always look like they’re smilin’.
So I reckon this Metatron got a raw deal an’ I kinda relate to him. I’m puttin’ my name down to have him as my Guardian Angel. Jus’ hope he aint fully booked.
And, hey… if he ever feels like rekindlin’ a little o’ the ol’ sinnin’, my door’s always open. Know waddimean?
Monday, 13 July 2009
In the Beginnin' there was The Word....
...an' that word got me into a whole lotta trouble with Mother Superior. Know waddi mean?
Why did I leave the convent? Hmmm! Now let me jus' cast my mind back............
...Yeah. I guess that did it.
Last I heard o' Father O'Flannigan, he was feedin' starvin' indians deep in the Amazon Forest. Dunno what they did with his bones but I heard they don' waste nothin'.
I hope he managed to teach 'em to say Grace afore they boiled him up. I guess he woulda liked that.
Anyhow, me an' St. Barbarella-of-the-Lash parted company an' I can't say it was on good terms. All the same, Mother Superior said they'd all pray for my soul, which was good 'cos it meant I could concentrate on my body now I don't have a habit anymore to hide my ass. I tried prayin' about that but He aint returnin' my calls. Guess He's still a little pissed with me.
So I went back to live at th' ol' trailer park with my mom (Sleazie Knight) an' my sis (Sultry Knight). They're both whores like everybody else in the neighborhood ('ceptin' the pimps o' course). They don' earn that much though on account o' they're both as homely as a barn after a hurricane.
They was both pleased to welcome me back into the fold but, more 'n that, mom was glad I was through with the whole nun thing. She never did hold with that. Said it brought the neighborhood into disrepute.
More to th' point, she always said it was a waste of a good-lookin' gal so I figured it was time I started puttin' beans on th' table doin' what th' Good Lord put me on this earth to do.
He still aint returnin' my calls though.
Why did I leave the convent? Hmmm! Now let me jus' cast my mind back............
FLASHBACK...
...Yeah. I guess that did it.
Last I heard o' Father O'Flannigan, he was feedin' starvin' indians deep in the Amazon Forest. Dunno what they did with his bones but I heard they don' waste nothin'.
I hope he managed to teach 'em to say Grace afore they boiled him up. I guess he woulda liked that.
Anyhow, me an' St. Barbarella-of-the-Lash parted company an' I can't say it was on good terms. All the same, Mother Superior said they'd all pray for my soul, which was good 'cos it meant I could concentrate on my body now I don't have a habit anymore to hide my ass. I tried prayin' about that but He aint returnin' my calls. Guess He's still a little pissed with me.
So I went back to live at th' ol' trailer park with my mom (Sleazie Knight) an' my sis (Sultry Knight). They're both whores like everybody else in the neighborhood ('ceptin' the pimps o' course). They don' earn that much though on account o' they're both as homely as a barn after a hurricane.
They was both pleased to welcome me back into the fold but, more 'n that, mom was glad I was through with the whole nun thing. She never did hold with that. Said it brought the neighborhood into disrepute.
More to th' point, she always said it was a waste of a good-lookin' gal so I figured it was time I started puttin' beans on th' table doin' what th' Good Lord put me on this earth to do.
He still aint returnin' my calls though.
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