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My Life as a Life Sized Moon Monster
Apr. 25th, 2015 02:26 amMy Life as a Life Size Moon Monster - Pt.76: When you find yourself wearing a poisonous stingray as a cod-piece as you stand on the roof shouting to the free-range chickens and prostitutes roaming around your neighborhood that yours is a genius well beyond the limited mental capacities of the bourgeois to appreciate, it's a sure sign you're long overdue for a few drinks out with friends.
Amongst them you can forget those details that lock the days down in petty horror and epic drudgery. The drug-dealer three houses from here found impaled through the skull with the pointy end of a garden gnome. The homeless guy that breaks into your backyard at night to lick the insecticide off the grass and howl at stars only he can see. The little old lady who circles your block three times every Thursday evening at dusk muttering prayers even as ants crawl out of blind eyes in place of tears.
Small wonder I wake in the middle of the night reaching under my pillow for the gun only to find a decapitated hand there in its place giving me the finger.
Thankfully my drinking buddies are polite when I share with them these neighborhood exploits, even as they motion for the check despite just arriving or reach slowly for the pepper-spray tucked away in purses.
It's not always an easy gig being a life size moon monster, but with the right friends you can find yourself feeling almost human as they drag you back to earth with a friendly smile.
Amongst them you can forget those details that lock the days down in petty horror and epic drudgery. The drug-dealer three houses from here found impaled through the skull with the pointy end of a garden gnome. The homeless guy that breaks into your backyard at night to lick the insecticide off the grass and howl at stars only he can see. The little old lady who circles your block three times every Thursday evening at dusk muttering prayers even as ants crawl out of blind eyes in place of tears.
Small wonder I wake in the middle of the night reaching under my pillow for the gun only to find a decapitated hand there in its place giving me the finger.
Thankfully my drinking buddies are polite when I share with them these neighborhood exploits, even as they motion for the check despite just arriving or reach slowly for the pepper-spray tucked away in purses.
It's not always an easy gig being a life size moon monster, but with the right friends you can find yourself feeling almost human as they drag you back to earth with a friendly smile.