Storm clouds are massing out at sea. Dark and ominous with a good chance of days of rain to come soon. This is why the Palace is so busy elsewhere. Again, when I awoke and looked out the bedroom window this morning at sunrise, not one of the Palaces cars were in sight. That doesn't mean that there wasn't someone there on guard duty. It does mean, though, that every available worker of Daddy and Mean Queen were busy placing Mean Queen's eggs not only in Los Angeles but all of the South West. I'm sure of it. And why?
A storm is coming with the promise of rain to last into days. Perfect weather for Mean Queen's eggs to hatch and spread colonies of Jihad Party Boys everywhere. Oh, they think I'm not on to them but Millie and Great Horned Owl have watched them as they, in the dead of night, brought vast quantities of eggs from the warrens beneath the Palace. They place them in the cars for delivery, and now that they have spread her eggs further away from the Palace, it takes longer for them to return to have the cars filled once more. These eggs are no ordinary eggs either.
They are long and cylinder in shape with rounded ends. Like gelatin capsules made of ivory shell, only about two feet in length with a good ten to twelve inch diameters. That's not all, Drag Queen's dance has changed. She now wears fur butt flossers and has tied antlers to her head. Her eunuch stopped playing the flute for the oboe. Very ominous indeed for the music is dark and moody and it makes the Jihad Party Boys quiver and salivate. They swoon to the eunuch's enchantments on the oboe while they watch the fur fly on Drag Queens Butt flosser. Her antlered head dips now and then while her hips and ass gyrate in a slow grinding motion. Drag Queen's hands dip in a granite bowl, she lifts her hands above her face and watches the blood from the bowl smear down her arms and drip to the floor.
The Jihad Party Boys grunt. Their fat bellies are smacked to the beat of the music. Grunt-smack-smack-grunt. Grunt-smack-smack-grunt. The Jihad Party Boys' gums look red and swollen, their teeth stick out from them sharp and pointed and their eyes have sunk into dark pools mixed with love and hate. They wear over their shoulders, blankets with strings that hang from them. They cloak themselves in this blanket while they balance little hat boxes tied to their heads. Just like Drag Queen has her antlers tied to her head. These hat boxes are receivers for instructions from Mean Queen and Daddy.
Storm clouds are coming, the sky will darken, the air--grow cold for the sinister work of the Palace. Woe and wretchedness is coming. Millie and the Great Horned Owl with the camera for a brain are on guard for the calamity that may befall the greater South West.
The East and Western Bunker of the Jihad Party Boys have been dancing each night since the full moon. Grunt-smack-smack-grunt. Grunt-smack-smack-grunt.
No comments:
Post a Comment