And then back in Eden the whole lot of us went to the matinee. The Eden show house had been out of Ys, and there in the gentle rainbow sun shower the marquee in black letters:

Midnight Cowbo

JohnVoight Dustin Hoffman

Earlier the same afternoon, three of the Johns had enlisted in the Marine Corp on the buddy system.

You’d imagine how that…

Roberta and I had recently been expelled for having had oral sex in the Eden High janitorial elevator; three of the Johns (mind you) joined the Corp.

Although she wanted a family sized tub of buttered, I opted for the so-called plain box of popcorn and, along with two bright red bottles of cherry-cherry, we shuffled our way in front of and across the other Johnnies “excuse-me excuse-me” and before long after the cartoon was over, I worked my cock into the popcorn and Roberta’s going “Johnny you pig!” and jolted to her feet, and I’m laughing with that unique laugh of mine.

Munching like nothing’s going on, numbed out pretty good…behind us they’re yelling “Sit the fucking hell down!”

And on the screen Joe Buck in his white hat caught a Greyhound.

Meanwhile, my buddies had no idea why Roberta was agitated, yelling, and I turned around over my shoulder like nothings going on, “Fuck you!” I’m shouting and I think it was Karpinsky who stood up again going, “You want some of this cocksucker?”

“Jesus you filled the box,” Roberta said, and my cock-head--the head of my cock --- roughed with popcorn salt --- was staid, moist --- and I’m looking around slouched low, the girl snuggling close, catching on, now kissing me fully wetly wild with her tongue and pulling back, our faces sucked taut, the movie song going

I won’t let you leave.

Meanwhile, Johnny sips and passes a sugary ice-melting large paper cup of Coca-cola spiked to the brim with brandy and peppermint snaps’ (we’re talking half booze) one of the Johnnies already nodding-bobbing-snorting off to sleep, the girl now sitting with her eyes facing the screen, the montage fading off, on as she tries to catch the narrative, Joe Buck playing chess with some rough looking babe, and I lightly touch Roberta’s hand and she again strokes my throbbing dick head, I put my index finger over my lips shhh shhh and the movie strips flaps loose and seems to melt on the screen as the house lights ignite just as the usher blinds me with his flash light, and I more or less nudge her away from my lap and the popcorn box, a considerable wad of jism transcends-arcs the row of seats in front of us—Roberta (beautiful Roberta) fussing with her shawl-sweater and brushing off her plaid coquettish skirt and knocking over the soda bottle with her foot.

You could see the foamed cherry-cherry roll forward, down over wedges of white gum, thick, tar-like and mysterious sticky layers of molasses-tacky sugar, multi-colored gum drops, lemon drops, jujubes, round-topped black crows, root beer barrels, a tampon, a dull penny face-down – the white-faced usher yelling, ”What the hell is going on! ?”

By now the half-filled show house clapping in unison, unmistakably someone leans over the balcony rail heaving, the puke back-washing aspirating the fellow’s nose, choking, sputtering noise, back slapping, a baby awakes wailing, its father lifts the infant high overhead – their silhouette on the big screen as people stand, shuffling up the aisles. Going boo boo boo!

Roberta whispers, “I love you. Touch me Johnny!” ^

(to be continued)

Views: 107

Comment by Robert B. James on March 23, 2019 at 9:30pm

yikes.

Comment by Maui Surfer on March 23, 2019 at 10:51pm

Ah, the days before DNA was identified ... we got away with murder, sometimes literally, sometimes figuratively, sometimes stepping into liquid.

The going away parties for the cursed ones, who had the wrong ping pong ball, or, for reasons unknown to all but Douglas MacArthur, signed up for a death warrant, of the conscious at least if not the body too ... never ending, someday asleep under a freeway, still wearing camo green. Those were the worst, we tried to get them to Canada, or anywhere else, even underground, to no avail.

Ratso, with one bad leg, struggling to climb the chair to reach the cupboard, "Want some coffee? How about some coffee?"

Realizing even the nicest Manhattan apartments were still mostly one bedrooms. Women, even in the city, still had bouffants and blue/green eye makeup.

https://youtu.be/ZGORPUzLxtU

Comment by J.P. Hart on March 24, 2019 at 12:56am

LO! Didn't lize I'd company.

I was over on David Leonhardt's NYT column eyeing up those bombas socks...

Time Flies. How cool Maui.

LO you got it made buddy. Both actors define natural. And I'd guessed your music
pic was the haunting Harry Nilsson's https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IQlmgmR4a4g

Through the thick and thin of IT I strongly suspect this is the age of miracles. As a dude way older than my orchard, my concern is that the politico (some kinda equation to preserve the 'greater good' already has Utopianish pharmas and other un-shared potions). Years ago (how far off, LO) an obscure fact crossed the echoes of my mind: mammalian maturation times seven equals normative life span of all mammals except human beings which would put our longevity at approximately 121 LO!
And yet Ratso did not die alone.

Comment by catch-22 on March 24, 2019 at 1:47pm

This was a surreal read back at 8am on a Sunday

so I think it hit home harder.

Thanks to Maui Surfer for the conscious-raising comment.

It’s cool, hart, how you hear it in the air, see it in the seeds and in the flying geese

You’ll always have a lot of words to spill that way, I think, I hope ~

Comment by Maui Surfer on March 24, 2019 at 2:36pm

Yossarian !!!

Comment by J.P. Hart on March 24, 2019 at 10:32pm

RBJ: Harley trikes!

catch-22: I'm flattered...true dat I flirted with revision, that is, using all symbols as opposed to huddle-talk e.g. @#$%^&! but I dinnit want to compromise my passwords (whoops).

Once upon a time Carlin, George was arrested for adult language X 7 here in PG MKE land where everything is so proper! LO! Hey lady, the weather outside is frightful; and of course Maui Surfer is conscious-rising--he's got five hours on us...yeah sure, reality...luv it!

file: pineapple princess
file [2] Diamonds on her shoes
file [3] Exxon Valdez! Have we forgotten the Exxon Valdez?!
file [4] Sicily, Alaska was nominated for a Grammy or whatsit? Golden Strobe:}

Comment by Ron Powell on March 25, 2019 at 6:21am
Comment by Maui Surfer on March 25, 2019 at 7:18am

If you want to Stop The WAR and stuff you got to sing LOUD !

Comment by J.P. Hart on March 26, 2019 at 5:21am

Mssrs:

I remind myself (what a wonderful world LO) that Roller Ball Murder was once a short story.

All together now "...I don't care if I ever get back..."

...

Comment by J.P. Hart on March 26, 2019 at 5:30am

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