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Wernicke's Tale Meet Wernicke. No of course that's not his real name (nor is that his real picture), but it is the name I have chosen for him. Wernicke lives in the alley behind my house. Every so often as I frequent my local liquor store, he is there to offer me a tale of interest. It is apparent that he suffers from aphasia or at least he has mastered the "SSI act" very well. I told him a few weeks ago about my website and how I would love to have him write for me. Well, it seems he thought it over. Last night as I exited the store I heard him. "Hey shit stain. Put this on your web site". He then began talking very fast as if to tell me the greatest tale ever told. Submitted for your review, to the best of my recollection, is Wernicke's Tale. The fag broke sticks on the cum bubble shit stain of mid-winter Massachusetts. Upon firing the butter form cheese doodle from his bosom, Louis Anderson fondled kittens during his magic show at Folsom. “Sometimes hot bread from my dryer forms slight ice crystals in my neighbor’s toilet” he says as he sorts peanuts from fuck. “It is very important to keep unwanted nose hairs from multiplying in ash laden tiger orgies, but then again that’s just silly”. Of course it was silly. Why would overactive fat children wrestle large Chinese babies just for slim fast? It is pointless to say that hamburgers and Dutch apple cream bananas are in a continual loop with Tarzan. Of course they are. Any xylophone with half a snicker doodle will tell you of the marshmallow penis rockets in the basement of a pedophiles love cave. Upon further inspection we see that the hovercraft pantyhose are merely mirror images of the spandex hand grenades of yesteryear. How is that possible you may be asking? If I made it any clearer I would have to spoil the doughnut fart monkey’s dinner on Saturn. Is that what you really want? “I sometimes finger small vertebrate with my left testicle on Sunday walks in the park” said Louis. “If for some reason there is no man hole present I am forced to improvise via short wave ham bone”. Is it true that space alien’s park sideways near Uranus? Would you tell anyone if they did? He laughed at that notion and responded “sometimes fat chicks from circus tent infectious saw mills see me naked in the pale light of the opera house”. We both had a good chuckle. If for some reason I had to escape from my underwater egg bubble, there would be great cause for alarm in the old communist fashion. That’s right bitch, I said communist. When I’m feeling quite adventurous I take donkey sperm and glaze prostitutes for the poor, on good faith of course. As I sat in the far reaches of the cumquat sky diving Elvis, I was cold and handsome in the presence of licorice. I saw Jesus and waved my day old tampon upon his dreary diaphragm. “What up bitch?” he said as he slapped my poodle stained ear hole. Just catchin’ flavor water lipstick with this here calculator. Of course I knew he wouldn’t understand. “Word dat” is all he said as he slivered on green painted house plants. “You seen dat bitch Moses round here?” he said with a twinkle in his toe nail fungus smack pipe. I seen him yesterday down by the mono spitting tennis courts. “Sometimes I just want to take him and purple monkey break dance” said Jesus as he morphed into a yellow bellied beef steak. Just then we were visited by the three ghosts of kwanza-bot earwig. “Aw shit!” said Louis “I forgot my gamma ray condom.” “Don’t trip dawg” said Jesus “I got one back at the crib.” At that point we all climbed the slimy metal pimp suite to safety. That’s just a typical day in the life of an ant eating pussy horse. That night I thanked Jesus for the bus fare. “No problem dawg”, he said as he disappeared into wonder bread pasta sauce. See you tomorrow I screamed. Today was a good day. Of course I'm sure that this is not word for word what he said. As a matter of fact I'm pretty sure that he didn't say any of that (to tell you the truth I have no idea why I even wrote this). After our conversation Wernicke then went on for some 20 minutes longer when I asked him who let the dogs out? Most of that conversation was not properly implanted into memory as I was trying to figure out how to get the fuck out of there without him attacking me. Hopefully I will get future chances to speak with him and, in turn, share Wernicke's tales of interest with the rest of the world. -= Bagoda =- |