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Hunter Thompson, In The Off Beat Chance Of Cunnilingus (Prose Poem) by horus8
Once while having dinner with Sandy Gallen Carrie Fisher, and David Geffen at Geffen's Malibu Beach compound I saw president Clinton land in a medium sized helicopter with an interesting Paint job. The two men shook hands, had a one minute conversation, and then parted ways as if it were all just a continuance. Still seated at the large wooden dinner table with Sandy, and Carrie, I couldn't help but feel like a seal turned game ball in a killer-whale's match of tail-toss. Sandy was eye-ballin' me like a rack of pre-cooked-ribs While Carrie venerated on and on about when she landed Harrison Ford during the making Of Star Wars. (Due to her mother's purchase of philosophical tutorials for young Carrie) She was able to seduce Harrison with her new found wit... Thank god I was immune, due greatly to her performance in the space classic having turned me into a cynical dyke. See, I always thought her and Luke should have banged one another before finding out that they were brother and sister, forcing her to move on to 'The Older Man'. Anyway, I couldn't figure out what I was eating There was some kind of fungus, and perhaps veal? Geffen had purchased my time for the night for an unspecified price, my hair was dark and short. I was wearing lovely yellow glasses, and new black Guess jeans. It was raining out, and the sun had just kerplunked into a pool of golden blood, and oranges. After dinner the fiasco continued, and gained speed We were to watch a movie together, all of us, in Mr. Geffen's private home movie theater. The picture Was Boiler Room. A miserable movie starring Vin Diesel And Christian Whatever about some telemarketers Wallowing in their own shit and genius. Before The flick, Geffen passed around a wooden box full of drugs. Happily, I shoved my face into it and Bobbed for anything that would fit in my mouth. The movie started, I nodded off thinking Christian Whatever looked like a young version of Bob Evans. I might have even said it out loud. Ruining My chances for any big money having let the cat Out of the bag. Everyone realized I wasn't just any Ordinary-Orange-County-Hick. I'd been mentored, I'd been groomed. When the movie was over, and it was only Geffen And I remaining, he showed me what big money could Really do. He flipped on some DJ Quick, and revealed That his entire body had electrolysis, and For a short man, he was swinging a big stick. I gulped nervously, shit, no matter how many times - - I watch those skinny little guys disrobe I'm always Blown away to see such huge dicks? What the fuck? It's just not proportionate in an architectural Sense damn-it... Now comes the hard part Where to draw the line, but not get the three hundred dollar early dismissal, but rather the overnight Jeep Cherokee deal behind curtain number 3. I gathered my Resources, punched in the clock, And carefully went about my work.

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