Calling Mr. Grogs.. - Part 2

Suck, suck suck is just what I did, with hand in left pocket, right foot tapping, shoe laces slowly loosening, pants tightening, chest heaving in-out, in-out, in-out. And the characters that jostled by me continued.

Brown balmorals with micro-fiber laces, small patterns (dots or imprints) shaped in Us near the tips, dark brown Armani Producer pants, pleated ever so perfectly swooping up into a 28 inch waist, chocolate colored leather Prada belt with double plated Gold buckle and micro stitching as borders. matching dark brown jacket, with a light beige Armani French-cut shirt (with matching cufflinks of course), earth tone flower tie, pristinely trimmed goatee with a tight, Ivy-league haircut (brown hair of course) and thick solid D&G glasses. Stupid bastard, could have bought a fucking trip to Hawaii or a Camry. But now he's walking the runaway, he's one of god's models, balancing Encyclopedias on his head while walking a diamond studded balance beam.

Then there's the Sunglasses and heals walking about. "Look at me, I've got 30 million dollar sunglasses, my daddy bought them for me. Did you know I lost 2 pounds this week? I ate chocolate and seltzer and washed that down with cigarettes and Ex-lax. My asshole might be dry and moldy from all the things I've had stuck in it and the drugs I keep pumping but at least all the makeup I wear makes me look like a wannabe Paris Hilton. And guess what? I made a video last night! Yes I did! The type you download from the internet and send to all of your friends! Yes thats me! See how good I look in that position? Only one way to achieve that! Lots of chocolate and seltzer for me. Come on boys, masturbate away!" Fucking bitch.

Don't you realize you're as useless as a c*m rag? Guys will look at your image while they touch themselves, they'll remember you until they finish the job. Then you're in the garbage with all the other tissues, napkins and condom wrappers. You are a fuck doll in expensive garb, humped and horned to suffer. Your best bet is to lead some poor, blue-balled, backed-up bastard; take him by his leash (you know what I mean by leash) and walk him about like a dog. But what do dogs do? Eat, sleep, fuck and shit. That's what you'll get from your new dog. But I bet you think you can show him some tricks. Just make sure you have lots of biscuits handy (and your legs easily opened).

I walk up to the corner, watching all the other dogs and birds stroll by, I suck the last drag out of my cigarette and dial Mr. Grogs.

"Grogs? Hey, its me again, just checking in on your progress. Flying over Connecticut? Ok, I see, I see. Picking up Cherry is it? Well that's nice, haven't seen her in quite some time now. She did what you say? Got corrective oral surgery? I see, what for? Buck teeth? No, no, I--a---I---a--never really noticed that she had buck teeth. No, not at all, I thought she was downright charming. Yes, yes. Ok, so you'll be here in an hour now? Ok, I'll wait in the office then. Very good, anything you need from down here? What was that? Scotch tape? Scotch tape and a cucumber? Ok---a---sure I'll make sure I pick that up for you. Yea, talk to you soon, bye!"

I ran for the revolving door and jumped in. As I click-clac-click-clacked across the floor, I could hear birds chirping ("Oh yea, he's so dreamy! You had to see my dress...") and I whistled my way to the elevator, next vision in hand.