Oh man, this has been a strange long trip. I took off to Detroit after my class reunion, hoping that the Super 8 doesn't catch me for the destruction to the room. Good thing I signed into the joint as one of those skeleton whores at the Yatch club.
Detroit was a huge disappointment. No hot men. Nothing but a baseball staduim, scary looking parts of town and janky janky unswanky places. I stayed a couple of days at a Motel 6 and nothing happened. No men, no excitement, no nothing. No place I went had anything happening so I couldn't decide what to do. I was still hiding from the Shitshewanna town police, Mary Lynn's family and the Super 8 folks in Lansing. Oh, and the Michigan State Police after I switched plates on the rental car.
My cell phone kept ringing over and over while I was hiding out in Detroit trying to figure out what to do that I finally cracked and answered it. And I was glad I did, as glad as if it had started to rain fried chickens and sizzling curly fries. It was Mary Lynn's family calling to tell me that poor Mary Lynn passed away and they were having a service for her this week. Her sister was under the impression that I'd gone to my reunion and would be back next week for Mary Lynn. I was shaking during this phone call, trying to figure out what they knew.
They know nothing! The police believe that Mary Lynn had been fooling with Oxycondin and other drugs and had a stroke as a result. Damn, later when I counted my pills there were some missing. She took my pills, old biddie. So the polices think she was high and halucinating when she was stumbling through the town of Shitshewannas so I'm off the hook.
I told the family how sorry I was and that yeah, I'd help clear up and pack up her apartment back home next week. Here's the kicker, they are PAYING me to do it!
So I got a Tim Horton's special lunch, 3 doughnuts, soup and coffee and decided to really treat myself on the way home. I stopped today at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland, Ohio. I have been wanting to go, just knowing that they had to have a huge section for Adam Lambert. It was hot today so I gussied up in a sleeveless spagetti string dress in a ritzy shade of blue with orthopedic shoes and my Hoverround. I searched everywhere for my man BB's section but couldn't find a damn thing! Finally I saw his section and was running my Hoverround at full throttle over some tattooed freak man towards those eyes and hair that make my madianly loins quiver like the lone tooth in a meth freaks mouth. But it WASN'T Adam! It was that unoriginal insipid old dead man that cannot hold a candle to Adam, Elvis 'Pillhead' Presley.
I was so pissed off I was seeing red while I rode my Hoverround over all 6 floors of that joint looking for Adam's section. Nothing, de nada, some flipping film starring that untalented Bruce Springsteen, that old ugly alchy Billy Joel and other lousy old farts. No one new or talented or as original as Adam. I complained at the musium offices, telling them that they were all a buncha homophibian repressive haters and that I would bring down the wrath of all of precious BB's fans on their heads but they just had some ugly blad headed jealous of BB security guard manhandle me and my Hoverround out of the building. Now I'm banned for live, something about the peanut butter I accidenatly smeared on Elvis's ugly old car. Hey, I was feeling peckish and had to have a snack, they didn't have any decent food there and I ain't eating in Cleveland. I have standards.
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