A pestilence took Jenny.
Our dolls' heads puked and did 360's.
Dad dumped Mom.
Bitches blew up his phone.
Kool Kat said, pulp Jenny for a spell book.
Sun Rayz got her period.
I had a cool scab.
Doctor Rover couldn't save Jenny.
Mom's on bath salts.
Cloe kissed me for practice.
Damn the mosquitoes.
______
a bit of foolishness for day 20
and for my BFF's flash 55 party.
Just another day in the hood? I'm having fun picturing all this.
ReplyDeleteNothing like a round of Satanic mayhem to start off the 55 with a cauldron boil-over. It's always amazing to me what you do with words--here they really sing out each image like a choirboy turning into Keith Richard--ie, a true story. ;) I love the image of the hussies overloading Dad's phone, and the witchy feel to the rest of the spell-unwinding. Only you could have written this, Shay, for which, many thanks, and please see that you, Cloe and Jenny all have a kickass weekend--hopefully outside the sanitarium. :P
ReplyDeleteLol. I love Joy's comment.....and got such a kick out of the poem.
ReplyDeletePractice kisses are rarely cool for everyone involved. Cool scabs, on the other hand, those always stay... cool. "Dammit, Kook Kat! Why would you do your business on poor Jenny? No wonder she got a pestilence."
ReplyDeleteA Dear Diary entry from the Florida's governor's mansion.
ReplyDeleteHad me cackling from start to finish.
ReplyDeleteDamn those mosquitoes, eh? Lucky you don't live in the bush where they're the size of basketballs, and yeah, for most of the varieties of skeeters, it's only the females that actually bite.
(wandering off howling in maniacal laughter)
damn the skeeters and full steam ahead
ReplyDeleteDamn damn damn the skeeters. Only thing they are good for is feeding bats. This poem makes me so glad I live on a dead end instead of a cul de sac.
ReplyDeleteKool Kat said, pulp Jenny...
ReplyDeleteWhen you say it, it sounds practical.