Archive for the ‘Grapes of Wrath’ Category

Count YooHoo In Point Pleasant

February 23, 2007

Envy, Groucho:21, 6006 YD

Hoopla:

Sweet Bela Lugosi’s backhair! It seems like I haven’t spoken to you in yurts and yurts. It took me literally ages to shake those goddam Grapes of Wrath – by the way, I think they MIGHT have actually been associated with that band you mentioned, does the name “Chris ‘Mister’ Hooper” mean anything to you?

I shook the group of mammary-obsessed maniacs in Point Pleasant, West Virginia, and took refuge in a homeless shelter, if it was good enough for Coleslaw, it was good enough for me. It did smell vaguely of urine, but to be quite honest, it could have been me: those Grapes of Wraths were savages, man, I tell you: and they made me a savage to boot. It wasn’t pretty.

The word twerp originally meant someone who bit bubbles of flatulence in bathtubs: isn’t that a bizarrely exact description?

Where was I?

Good lord, I haven’t even gotten to the point yet. Verbosity is not an admirable trait, Hoopla, don’t let anyone tell you different. Christ: The point: In the shelter I met a man who I thought at first to be an Al Jolson impersonator, but it turns out there was a much more simple explanation: he was simply covered from head to toe in the ashes of burned corpses.

But, let’s be perfectly honest, my good Baron, who hasn’t that happened to? On occasion?

The man’s name was Brian Jolson (it turns out he was actually Al Jolson’s grandson, but it was just a “coincidence”), he was part of a cult, or sect, or religion called the Aghori, who worship Shiva, and consider everything holy, including eating corpses, copulating with corpses, playing Five Card Stud with corpses, and swimming in shit. I don’t mind the Five Card Stud part, to be perfectly honest.

Brian cruises around looking for women on their – well, their time if you . . . get me . . . he performes tantric yoga with the women, which he describes as a sacred Aghori rite entitled “Surfing The Crimson Wave”. That’s the English phrasing for it anyway, that’s what Brian tells me. He hasn’t had much luck since I’ve been with him. Well, if you consider finding an abandoned 1978 Pinto near some railroad tracks “luck”, then he has some luck . . . but not in the area he would probably prefer.

Anyway, where was I? Right.

Money.

I need you to wire me some money, so I can get the Christ away from this freak, he’s eyeing me up rather strangely. I was well fed when with the Grapes of Wrath. Maybe too well fed.

Send money soon.

Count YooHoo, K.S.C., S.H., H.M.
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Van Vliet Cabal

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Count YooHoo Update

October 18, 2006

Lust, Harpo:40, 6006 YD

Hoopla:

How long has it been? Time seems to have stood still.

Has it been years? DECADES?

Good god, man, the pain and distress I’ve been put through, you have no idea. Why do you put me through this?

I barely made it away from those Pumpkinite bastards, somehow someone found out that I was a plant, and they went ballistic. I had to hide out in a rain ditch for weeks and weeks, living only off discarded cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon and Slim Jims which were scattered around the parking lot of a semi-deserted gas station.

Did I mention vibrators were originally considered medicinal?

Where was I? Oh, right, how I survived. I stayed alive on my meager rations, until I was saved by a boy named JoJo who was part of a group called the Grapes Of Wrath, they were almost as nutty as the Pumpkinites . . . They were waiting for the time when they had enough followers and were then going to travel across the country on foot helping people everywhere . . . a little like David Banner in the television show The Incredible Hulk, or like that other television show you are always on about, The Littlest Hobo.

For some reason they had been living in a barn for close to a hundred years, all living off breast milk. They kept the women permanently pregnant so they could always have an uninterrupted supply of ‘ambrosia’ as they referred to it. It was nauseating.

I admit, when I first nursed back to health on the tittie of a nineteen year old woman who looked like she could be on the cover of a magazine my disgust lessened slightly, but when I woke back up the revulsion was reborn anew . . . either the girl I was suckled on didn’t look as I had imagined, or they pulled me off her in my sleep and stuck me onto a woman who resembled one of the trees from the Wizard Of Oz.

I freaked.

I admit now, it was a slight over-reaction – I burned down the barn in my rage. The truly embarrassing part is that I got stuck under a beam which fell from the top of the barn, and the Grapes Of Wrath saved my life AGAIN. It took two more weeks of suckling to bring me back to what I consider life, or at least that’s what they told me.

We are all now traveling together. Do you know of anywhere that about 75 people (40 of them suckling) can stay for a few days? How big is your balcony?

-Count YooHoo, K.S.C., S.H., H.M.
Esoteric Order Of Eris, Van Vliet Cabal

YooHoo:

I just want some clarification, is this the BAND The Grapes Of Wrath? Because, if so, my balcony is very very small indeed. Barely big enough for St. Gulik to do his yoga.

-BVH