125

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There was no Death version III. There will never be. You will see.

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Minacca watched Sean at the burger topping bar and she smiled. That must have been nice; having someone to look after you, or mother you. They made an attractive couple.


Out of the corner of my eye I saw servers bringing drinks and deserts and such to tables, and every now and then, a face would look over to me and Minacca. I could almost hear their interior monologues.


“Who is that girl?”

“He banging some new chick I guess.”

“Now he gonna fuck somebody else up.”


Of course, you know that I was being paranoid. Minacca saw something in the restaurant dining area, with the female workers, and she had a sense of things, of what them ladies spoke to each other. Women in a work place do not gossip, do they?


I knew that males did, but that was mostly graphic descriptions of sexuality.


“Of.”


“At.”


“In."


"...a chick.”





Not “About, Why, and What Else?”


I would find out that women had considerations other than the size of melons and the taste of the lovely vulva nectar.


Mmmmmmm.



There was something about Stacy, and Minacca spotted that shit right off. Sean was only focused on Stacy’s menu, of course. As much as Sean was the most intelligent member of our crew, he had his eyes focused only on food this day. He had lost quite a bit of weight eating only hostibal food that wasn’t all that tasty. He was looking quite trim.



When he began school again at Bullshit High, his large frame would afford him the opportunity to heal per doctor’s orders by lifting weights and running. Eventually, he would participate in Varsity Football. He would become physically fucking huge.



With Minacca, he had finally met someone who could match his insight and mental acuity. She would help him control his many appetites, up to a point. When we began to dabble in illicit materials, there was no hope for poor Minacca. It became his passion, and ultimately, his downfall.


That was too bad. Minacca was a treasure.

“Willie Boy, you work at the best place ever. Swear to God, I will be your best customer.” Sean sat down with his platter. He had done something I’d not seen much when bussing the tables. He’s taken extra plates back piled high with various toppings in order to try out different combinations at his table.


Some people made side salads, as Minacca did, alongside her petite kid’s burger.

When I bussed tables and would occasionally come across different plates piled with greedy toppings, they were always left behind. Such a waste.



Sean’s platter of plates would be left empty on this day.

And he would be sick later from over-stretching his shrunken stomach from the lengthy hostibal stay.

Minacca could eat, don’t get me wrong. Tall and curvy, she had a solid caloric intake allowance, but she chose to eat lots of raw vegetables and such.


“Sean,” she said, “How is it?”

Sean’s eyes rolled back in his head in ecstasy and he chust kept right on mauwing. No time for chitchat.




She smiled and bit into her burger. She was not about to lecture him about chowing hard at this moment, when he was in pure bliss. She was not a bitch.


He had these sorts of things on his many plates:

Hand cut steak fries with the skin left on, smothered underneath beef gravy and melted cheese sauce, known as “Putine” up north where them Canadiacs forage in the
bushes for they grub.

The obligatory lettuce, tomatoes, sliced dill pickles and red onions sat in another plate.

Another one held sliced, pickled jalapeno peppers, green hot sauce, red salsa, and tiny, spicy tamales. Yup, authentic, corn-husk-steamed tamalitas.

There was a heart-attack plate upon which sat slices of bacon, butter-grilled onions and shrooms, more melted cheese sauce in a little plastic cup, crumbled, red oil-dripping chorizo sausage, and a gawdamned fried egg.


Dude would be shitting fire manana.


He piled each bite with a different combination beforehand. Man was a friggin genius, I kid you not.


+++++++++++++++++++++++



We staggered out to the front to pay our bill, with Sean continuously going, “Oof… Oof…”

Stacy was about to get off. Well, I mean, she was about to clock out. “How was your meal?”

Sean could not talk; he simply smiled between Oofs.



Minacca said, “The meal was quite delicious. The service was good, too. I think we’ll be back.”

“That’s very nice. Thank you for coming. How about you, sir?”



I raised my eyebrows. “Hah? Oh, uh, Stacy. They know I work here. These are my friends. I had some good meat. You should try it yourself.”



Minacca stole a glance at me and then she introduced herself and Sean to Stacy.

While everyone was shaking hands and that stuff, I only had eyes on melons.




Yeah, still a bastard. But that would change, with Stacy. Or because of her.

Ya know.



Remember, we killed Matilda together. And then I got chased by an angry biker with a big wrench.



There are tools made for destruction instead of for repair.


But when destruction happens, then one may breathe clean air.





Huh.





LINKS




Amazing Fact Generator. Hit Me Again.




Game for you. One More Level.



OK, fuck that shit. Let’s explore the world a little, shall we? I will bring you back home, true that.


Here we go. Grab your towel and your imbation.


Now, before we travel to explore the world, here are some ideas to help us on our path.





Wherever we may go, there may be a free couch? Who the fuck is Kato Calin anyways?







Your idea of a good journey might depend upon your perspective. Heaven or Hell?






Along our way, we may end up in the Green Isles. Irish men there will help us learn proper Pub etiquette. You should know this stuff.






We must avoid traps.





We may need to construct our own mode of transportation. How about a Porsche?






Did you bring your portable, wearable computer? We may need it for maps and such.




We may need to learn how to fuck up everyone else in order to escape.






Thank you for following me along our path.




God Help You.

God Help Us All.


---willies out.













OK, one more for us both, to get us back home to TDC Land. Enjoy your Sunday my friend.




Try to blend, in NYC.








OK, sorry about that.


We return home. We are welcomed. Cool.








Shout out to our U.S. warriors in all corners of the globe. Thank you for protecting us all. Come home safe, you badass buds and kickass chicks.



Amen.

























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