Imgormiel
Part of the furniture
- Joined
- Apr 18, 2004
- Messages
- 4,372
Doctor J Zzatz and his bay of solutions
It is a summer evening as I sit here all fucked up with a bottle of whiskey, some edible half-eaten chemical illicit substance and one of the best smelly cheeses that I cannot quite pronounce the name of due to my state of mind. My voice seems a little fucked up too but the dog sleeping on the grass keeps me happy. I forget her name. Was it Rosy, Harriet or Ginnette? Whatever she’s just a broad.
I haven’t a clue where I am this moment in time, is it Malibu, or Michigan? It looks like...hmm ...Scotland. However, I am staring out at the sunburned clouds as sun sets on the seas horizon. The darkness is beginning to loom in the bay’s evening shade, making curvy silhouettes on the beach from the nearby cliffs. Close by a fire is blazing away four years from where I sit in my deck chair - Expressing its mania from ember to flame as I begin to touch on contemplation.
As time passes, the sky seems all lithium and chlorpromazine with an extra bit dopamine stoner to give it that panache bit of unison. Like adding salt, pepper and vinegar to chips but then, the chips would have to be made of cauliflower or nettles or some shit like that - Hmm confusing but. That would have to be effect of the added jellied pistachio serotonin mayo that the dog added to my sandwich earlier with the extra Prozac pepper. Ahhhh...that’s the stuff!
It’s funny but, right now I just noticed the shimmering reflection of the sun on the waves nearby the jetty. Which appears to be somewhere to the northwest - but fuck the shit outta me if I could really tell you what direction it really is now. I guess all those years of my life spent at Harvard really did that much good huh – but then, being stoned doesn’t help either.
There seems to be something a little interesting about the jetty’s wooden catatonic frame being engulfed by caressing, thrusting and irregular water. It appears all hebephrenic with its legs held in spasm to the rhythm of the seas movements - As if the sea itself was hot broad having sweaty lust-filled sex with a man but it wasn’t. Not that is an idea that should be psychotically objectionable. Damn that broad and her cheap ass drunk up sleep. I am so horny right now - I could fuck a rhinoceros.
As I, sit here grumbling to myself, I begin to think I should tell you my name. It’s Zzatz by the way. I work as a psychologist - That’s ‘Doctor’ Julius Zzatz to you. M...fucking...D! If you don’t believe me, I’ve a middle-fingered gun on my hand that you can swivel on and my next shot of whiskey destined for my throat that says so. At least the whiskey is better company than you are. Even if I am feeling a little horny and tripped out. So fuck you, with bells on, and a forty-seven cent smile on my face. Get your own drugs...good night.
