I had to keep his head in a cone because he liked to maul his tail. That’s just mental.
Bus Stop Bench Ad
If you saw my ad on a bus stop bench you would know I was the eponymous proprietor of Morningwood Investigations, and that no job is too small.
I lived in the Hazel-Atlas. It was one of the many aging and nondescript dingbats in my neighborhood that were erected in a hurry and became emblematic of the sprawl aesthetic of the 60’s.
Subsequent to my divorce I moved into a tremendously deficient efficiency apartment in a tenement called The Douglas in one of the third-worldliest parts of the city because sometimes you gotta do shit you don’t want to because life isn’t fair and shit doesn’t always go your way and not everyone gets to live in a bungalow.
He told me all he wanted for Christmas besides a chain wallet was for me to get a new car.
Confiscation of a Monkey’s Sense of Inferiority
Anyway, on the walls of my apartment hung a couple of paintings I acquired from clients in lieu of payment that gave the place an air of sophistication that it otherwise would not have.
Woody and Phaedra
One time I thought I heard someone with her, but it was just her spicing up her act by including Woody, her ventriloquist dummy.
Besides selling Persian Merkins on the internet from her apartment she could be found lounging on haystacks and leaning on tractors in an erotic agricultural farm calendar…
To be honest, I had lost confidence in his ability to make food that didn’t gross me out, since the last time I had eaten one of his eggrolls I bit into a rubber band.
Zonkey in Little Mexico
You didn’t go to Little Mexico to have your picture taken with the zebra-painted burro, but the more you drank the more”fucking amazing” it became, and more often than not, you went home with the inevitable souvenir snapshot of you kissing the burro in the lips and a hole in your wallet where ten bucks used to be.
Membership in the German Club never exceeded many more than half a dozen and meetings were regularly attended by half of that.
I could tell by the ringtone that it was Spearchucker. He said he was en route to a crime scene at the municipal pool and asked me to meet him there.
Del Mar Pool
The Del Mar Was a crummy $90-a-night airport motel that sat between a used car lot and rows of self-storage units directly under the flight path for Easterly arrivals.
…the skanky-looking motel proprietress emerged from behind a heavy curtain hung across a doorway with a cigarette dangling from her lips, squinting to keep the smoke from her eyes.
The truth is, I had already imagined what Mira would look like with nothing on except a pair of panties around her ankles.
Unfortunately, spirit gum tends to lose its hold once you start sweating.
It was the kind of hotel where everyone checked in with an alias and where you might go if you were hiding out from the law.
The place smelled like old pennies and looked a little grubby and felt a wee bit creepy.
Gypsy girls can be beautiful when they are young, but their lifestyle takes its toll pretty fast.
He wasn’t restrained, but he wasn’t going anywhere.