I cannot read your expression.
“I’m smiling, Ass.”
Are you?
“Funny story: the pillows behind me are made from the skins of my previous dogs. This guy’s barely gonna make a cushion. But I love the little fucker.”
What’s his name?
“Myballs.”
Huh?
“His name is Myballs. That way, I can walk around all day asking women if they like Myballs and wanna pet Myballs.”
That’s a good bit, Billy.
“One of my favorites. Not gonna lie, sometimes I also have my actual balls out.”
You shouldn’t do that.
“Yeah, but it’s a little shouldn’t. There’s much bigger shouldn’ts out there. Remember when whats-his-face killed all you people?”
The Holocaust?
“Yeah, that thing. Well, that shouldn’t have happened, should it? That’s a huge shouldn’t, man! Compared to that, ‘shouldn’t hang sack at the Baskin-Robbins’ is a tiny little shouldn’t. Barely even noticeable.”
Are you higher than usual?
“Maaaaaaaaybe.”
Jesus, man.
“I’ve been hanging out with Kinski. That guy’s the tits. He tackled a fireman for no reason. Then he fought the Dalmatian. He’s like the Tasmanian Devil! Plus, he’s got a doctor’s bag full of pills.”
What kind of pills?
“No idea. They all got German names. Terrible language, Ass. Sounds like your mouth is having a nightmare.”
It’s a bit harsh.
“I can’t say enough good stuff about the guy.”
This is Klaus Kinski we’re talking about, right?
“Solid dude. I weaponized him.”
You what?
“Hey, Kinski! Thoughts on my Ass says you suck!”
“HE IS THE ONE WHO SUCKS!”
“BRING ME YOUR FACE TO FUCK AND EAT!”
Jesus!
“See? I love this fucking guy!”
Haven’t been around much in a while, but when I saw Billy post this photo I knew I had to stop in to see what you’d do with it. Happily was not disappointed. Hope you’re hanging in down at Fillmore South.