Man oh man I'd be all over this one if I was at home.

Strobe Light is almost complete anyway. Good setting, some character development, we know where you are and why. A little bit of mystery to keep me thinking and bam, I'm entertained.

choose your own adventure books were my fucking favorite

--- As a kid, having a back yard was the best toy you could hope for. It was a place you could run for days, at least until the sun went down and you heard your mom calling for you. A place you could roll in the grass and watch the stars come out. Maybe you had a tire swing, maybe not. What mattered was that you had room to explore and be a kid and do stupid things.

I never really expected anything out of the yard and it never really expected anything out of me. It was just a place to have fun. Innocence put together with youth.

Then I found the knife.

Then I found the knife.

Fucking Christian Zombie Vampires. Always ruin a good back yard.

--- In case you can’t tell by now, I used to spend a lot of time in bars. And by a lot of time, what I mean is most of my waking hours if I wasn’t at work. It wasn’t a necessarily healthy thing, but more good times were had than bad. As a matter of fact, this one time…

my luck ran out. The stalls on the bathroom were ripped off.Something about new smoking laws. I had to smoke outside while talking to bikers about some whatever the fuck new device they had on some whatever the fuck new bike they bought while I just thought of Little House on the Prarie. Burn the tires out. I don't give a fuck. Someone is going blind on TV and I am missing it.

That's all I knew.

--- There’s few things worse than waking up after having your ass handed to you. Blinking, trying to see through the swollen eye. Checking the swelling on your knuckles and the bruises on your torso. Staring at yourself in the mirror, making sure that all the bones are where they were when you went out for the night. Testing the knees and elbows and wondering where that long ass scrape came from that’s currently running down your side. Oh yeah… I went out last night.

I remembered thinking one thing about the incident last night.

Bullets are faster then words.

--- It’s four a.m. and “Strobe Light” by the B-52’s is blaring from my headphones as I dance around in my back yard. Spinning and waving my arms about like some drunken maniac. The concrete feels a little rough on my bare feet and the air is too cool for even my tastes, but she insisted. Who am I to say no to her ?

but you might get confused. Never read to much into a story. When you read "her" you automatically thought a human female. No, my readers. This was a donkey.

And this donkey wanted to dance.

If you know what I mean.

--- What is it about certain songs that make you want run naked through department stores and scream obscenities at any passer by ? The ones that make you feel like you could only sing them through gritted teeth and while on fire, because that’s the only impetus that could make you sing a sentence like “I’m bringing sexy back, Them other fuckers don’t know how to act” with a straight face.

Try singing "Me so Horny" while shopping for tampons for your girlfriend. She was too tired to go out and you just wanted to get out. Now, at "Save Rite" wearing a cowboy hat telling everyone you are so horny at the top of lungs holding a box of Rite Aid brand tampons.

Or maybe it was Tampax.

It’s four a.m. and “Strobe Light” by the B-52’s is blaring from my headphones as I dance around in my back yard. Spinning and waving my arms about like some drunken maniac. The concrete feels a little rough on my bare feet and the air is too cool for even my tastes, but she insisted. Who am I to say no to her ?

She aims the camera at me as I dance around. She's giggling and beautiful. If this is what makes her smile, it's what I'll do. I know at the end of this dance we will go back to my bedroom and have at it.

I also know that the video will end up on youtube.com tomorrow and I'll probably never hear from her again.

I don't make the best decisions when the possibility of sex is involved.

Dan - You don't have to do it now... Think about it during the day and hit me up with something tonight...

Turtle - Damn boy... You're on a creative streak today....

Michele - HA!! Nicely done...

Ralph Reese is a well known communist and child beater. It is well known his illustrations depict the rise of the once great USSR and also insults "Slim Jim's" at the same time.

He is a master of deceit and also, he doesn't like lunch snacks

A communist who doesn't like peanut butter crackers (the cheese kind... cause the sesame ones suck.) ?!?! I'll see him hanged for this!!

And is it just me, or does Ralph Reese look a little like Louis Black ?

Reese is the guy on the far left...

--- In case you can’t tell by now, I used to spend a lot of time in bars. And by a lot of time, what I mean is most of my waking hours if I wasn’t at work. It wasn’t a necessarily healthy thing, but more good times were had than bad. As a matter of fact, this one time….

I was sitting at the bar and a man rode in on his horse.

'That horse drinkin' today?' the bartender asked.

'Nope'

'Well then he'll have to wait outside then'

The rider casually turned the horse around and went back out the door, re-appearing a few moments later, sans horse.

(That is a true story by the way. God how I loved Montana)

--- In case you can’t tell by now, I used to spend a lot of time in bars. And by a lot of time, what I mean is most of my waking hours if I wasn’t at work. It wasn’t a necessarily healthy thing, but more good times were had than bad. As a matter of fact, this one time….

I was dancing with this girl. When the song ended, I headed back over to the bar to grab another beer.

As I was standing there, a man walked over to me with an intent look on his face.

I was thinking that I might be in trouble here. Maybe I had danced with the wrong girl.

'That girl was my sister,' the man said.

'Oh boy...' I thought.

'Do you want to marry her?'

Apparently she was a member of some religious group that was looking to, ahem, increase their flock.

Since I was not quite ready to be a daddy or married at that point in life, I respectfully declined the offer.

(Another true story. Montana ruled)

Ernie - Montana sounds like a good time... Any time you can ride a horse into a bar is a good time.... So says the city kid who's never been on a horse....

I lived in Montana when I was too young to do anything neat. My dad was stationed in Great Falls from when I was 3 to 6.

As a kid, having a back yard was the best toy you could hope for. It was a place you could run for days, at least until the sun went down and you heard your mom calling for you. A place you could roll in the grass and watch the stars come out. Maybe you had a tire swing, maybe not. What mattered was that you had room to explore and be a kid and do stupid things.

One of my favorite stupid things to do was steal my dad's morphine and try to inject it into the killer bees that had a hive on the back of our toolshed.

Now, just to be upfront, I can offer you no proof that these bees were killer bees. Sure, they first showed up during a summer when everyone was talking about killer bees invading from Mexico. And they did seem to buzz with a bit of a Mexican accent. And I've never met any bees, before or since, that would fly so far out of their way just to sting a person. Or a dog.

The morphine syrettes were for my Daddy's hip, but he wouldn't use them. He just locked them away in a footlocker in the attic. We were never curious enough to use them ourselves, but after a couple weeks, every dog and cat in our neighborhood had gotten a hit. We liked how calm they'd get. My sister would usually take advantage of their calm to dress them up. I recall more than once, being followed around town by a strung-out-looking beagle trapped in a partially-chewed pink doll dress.

Ah, but I'm forgetting about the bees.

We figured the best way to calm down a swarm of killer bees was with that morphine. But of course, you can't just sting each and every bee individually. We were determined, afterall, but we weren't about to make a career out of it.

So, we'd just sneak up, squirt in a couple syrettes into the top of the hive and then run away and count our bee stings.

There was no change in their behavior at first. But after a few days, we noticed a change. The bees seemed slower, sluggish, and sometimes they just fell out of the sky in mid-flight. They mostly stuck close to the hive, but occassionally we'd see one sitting on a windowsill for days, just sitting there doing nothing, like he was sick or lazy. One of them sat in the backseat of my dad's car for over a week, unmoving, but willing to buzz if you got too close to him.

And then one day, maybe it'd been a few weeks, maybe even a month, but certainly long after we'd run out of syrettes, they all disappeared. The hive went empty almost overnight.

We dared each other to stick our fingers into the hive and before too long discovered there was honey inside. Soon we hitting up the hive every afternoon. Just looking for a little honey. It was the sweetest honey ever. Oh, good god, was it sweet.

In fact, now that I think about it, no sweet thing I've ever tasted in my entire life has even come close to the sweetness of that honey.