Thursday, April 21, 2016


Stopping For Directions

-So, okay, he hiked the jungles of Panama
as a nineteen year old. Backpack and all!

-Pretty pictures of flowers in a notebook.
He still draws.

-What a freakin boy scout!


-You got something?

-Stopped in a whorehouse for directions.

-You’re kidding?

-The girls fussed over such a naive blusher!

-So, over in a few minutes?

-Yes. In truth. But not, of course, in political fiction.

-Seems to be a slim horse to ride.

-We’ve ridden slimmer.

-We run Jenny against him?

-Perfect! Little Miss Hurt!

-She’ll cry at his treatment of women.

-And get some great digs in when she’s dry!

-Well, a whole campaign...?

-Yes and no. We’ll apologize three quarters
way through.

-Uh huh? And then allow the snide wisecracks
to surface again?

-Same act.

-Thus he loses the women?...been better
to fuck his brains out back then.

-No way! Don’t want him on our side!

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Prac a biography!
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