Thursday, February 14, 2008


Pat O'Brien banged on my door late last night.

"Bad Eskimo dreams again," he mumbled as let himself in and collapsed on my bed. The only thing between his naked body and my bed was the sheet he had wrapped around himself. My comforter would smell like musk for weeks.

I resolved myself to sleeping on the floor for the rest of the night.

"Why does there have to be Eskimos?" Pat O'Brien asked me. He sounded very earnest.

I told him that I did not know why there had to be Eskimos, but that he should just live with it.

"It doesn't make sense," he whimpered. "Is it because of their pies? Is it payback for their delicious pies?"

I propped a pillow up against my nightstand and tried to make the best of the situation.

"I mean they're not even real pies," Pat O'Brien said. "THEY'RE NOT EVEN FUCKING REAL PIES."

And then he buried his face in his hands and cried.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

This is so awesome. Glad you're back.

2:11 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Well, what happened with the Wolverine?

6:43 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

1:02 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

"His Face Swells up and his lips turn purple like an Eskimo in heat..."

-W.S. Burroughs Naked Lunch

1:04 PM  

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