Day 107

Dear Diary,

Well, from all appearances, it looks to the uninitiated like the unanimous winners of the “Your Host Misther Bubba Lee Billy Bob Huckleberry Hackensack and Big Bubba Lou Axe Blade ‘Mad Perkins The Matchstick Bomber’ versus The Biddies” Show is, in wot they calls the upset of the millennium, the dumbfucks from Texas, in other words Your Host Misther Bubba Lee Billy Bob Huckleberry Hackensack and his former brother-in-law Big Bubba Lou Axe Blade ‘Mad Perkins The Matchstick Bomber’ Honey Wagon. Now, those wot’s got queasy stomachs might not want to hear about how the biddies’ve been stuffed into that there plastic bag full of sweet ‘n’ sour marinade, but there they is, and wot’s more, they’s not looking as annoyed as might be expected under the circumstances. And, folks, if you wants to keep up with the action wot’s going on, this here’s where you’ve gotta pay attention, on account of there’s a subtle hint hiding out in my words wot might be a dead giveaway clue as to wot’s happening under the surface. You see, just because the biddies’ve let Your Host Misther Bubba Lee Billy Bob Huckleberry Hackensack and his former brother-in-law Big Bubba Lou Axe Blade ‘Mad Perkins The Matchstick Bomber’ Honey Wagon beat ‘em fair and square and soak ‘em in the marinade to get tenderised so’s they can be served up as extra-greasy deep fired gristle biddykebabs, it don’t mean that’s how they’s gonna end up. Like I said before, the only thing the biddies’ve got to show for themselves now that their looks is been took by Ol’ Father Time as repayment for their long lives and miserable dispositions and free bus passes and a fifty percent discount on their utility bills, is their brains. On the other hand, all them dumbfucks from Texas has to work with is a coupl’a tonnes o’pumped-up muscle and steroids con carne between the ears, and even them things make a plate of grits ‘n’ sausage gravy look intelligent by comparison. So you see, when the biddies told the dumbfucks they was surrendering their natural born female inferiority to wot they called the dumbfucks’ natural born male superiority, all they was actually doing was lettin’ the dumbfucks think they was winning fair and square as was their right under the laws o’God and Jeezus. And sure enough, the dumbfucks, wot was dumb enough to believe every word, slapped each other a couple high-fives and then a coupl’a more low-downs, and then, if’n that weren’t enough, they put their hands together in jubilation and sang out “Right on brother” and “Let’s eat the bitches” followed by “Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition.” And right after that, they started in a’whooping and a’hollering and a’chugging back gallons o’that weak Amurkin beer wot helps to maintain a good ol’ boy’s hundert inch waistline and bull neck and keeps his brain numbed even deader’n it were when he were born. That is, if’n he were born with a brain, which them dumbfucks clearly wasn’t.

So anyways, all them biddies was inside of that there clear plastic zip lock baggie full o’marinade and they was biding their time and gossiping amongst themselves like they always does, and just waitin’ on Your Host Misther Bubba Lee Billy Bob Huckleberry Hackensack and his former brother-in-law Big Bubba Lou Axe Blade ‘Mad Perkins The Matchstick Bomber’ Honey Wagon to forget about wot they was suppose to be doing, which was taking the biddies outta that there sweet ‘n’ sour marinade and dipping ‘em into the extra rich ‘n’ thick buttermilk batter wot was nice and ready in that special stainless steel dipping trough. The biddies hadn’t quite settled on a plan of action, on account of they was relying on the dumbfucks to do something stupider’n a donut after dark, only since the wind was gonna blow through the dumbfucks’ pea-brains anyway it saw fit, there was also no way of telling exactly which way the fuckers’d fuck up. Consequently, them biddies figured it was better to be ready for no matter what. However, as a precaution against them being ate before their time, and on account of Your Host Misther Bubba Lee Billy Bob Huckleberry Hackensack and his former brother-in-law Big Bubba Lou Axe Blade ‘Mad Perkins The Matchstick Bomber’ Honey Wagon was guaranteed to fuck up in several directions at the same time, the biddies told each other it’d be better if the dumbfucks wasn’t reminded that their principal lunch ingredients was sitting in front of ‘em all marinated and ready to go. So anyways, for a few minutes everybody relaxed and settled down for a afternoon’s nap under the sun, when suddenly up chirped Mrs. Emily Da Onion, wot was the one biddy even dumber’n the dumbfucks, and she said out loud so’s everybody could hear her, even those wot were stone deaf, “now girls, if’n you don’t want them idiot dumbfucks to remember us and throw us in the fat, we gotta sink down and hide inside the marinade so’s they can’t see us no more.” ‘Course, Mrs. Brain saw right away the fatal flaw in at particular way of thinking, on account of the plan’d only work for less’n a minute, after which they’d all be suffocated to death. However, she didn’t say nothing, only that Mrs. Emily Da Onion should be nominated to try out the idea to see if’n it’d work. The other biddies agreed unanimously, and for the first time in her life, Mrs. Emily Da Onion was elected to high office.

Now during all this time, I was hovering nearby and outta eyesight, just in case any of Your Host Misther Bubba Lee Billy Bob Huckleberry Hackensack’s other in-laws might be in the area and packing a Uzi. Being shot in both front tyres in a single day’d not done wonders for my disposition, I can tell you that, and I knowed I’d go ballistic if’n they decided my back tyres needed seeing to as well. A bus’s got just so many tyres to go round, sorta like a cat with his lives, and when you runs out you runs out, and I wasn’t about to run out for no dumbfuck Texan, no matter what. Unfortunately, while I was busy being outta eyesight, that is to say invisible, the same couldn’t be said for Ol’ Zombie Fartie, who’s gone to hell in a hand basket since her head was cleaned out and then filled up with some o’that voodoo zombie dust. You may not of cottoned on yet, but ever since she’d got zombified, the bitch’s become wot they calls a pain in the butt, and by that I mean a jumbo Texas-sized pain in a jumbo Texas-sized butt. And further more, she weren’t doing nothing at all no more in the Saving The Biddies From Being Ate department. In fact, if you don’t mind me speaking plain, Zombie Fartie had went down there quick as you please to the All You Can Eat Floating Island Bar-BQ Picnic Paradise entertainment platform and was lighting up the fire under the hot-fat fry-o-lator as well as putting the finishing touches on the pre-barbeque Las Vegas floorshow wot the big boss with the big bucks, Masther James Dean Leroy Pubis Elvis Athuritis Huckleberry Hackensack, had ordered up special for all them Texas tourons wot’d bought tickets for the The Platinum-Plated Texas Touron Travel Plan for Texas and Oklahoma Oil Billionaires annual round-the-world luxury deluxe cruise and so far might as well’ve stayed at home and took potshots at the cat.

Well, I must say I’m a sucker for a Las Vegas show, especially if’n it’s got them Sirky Da Solly folks wot can do things wot even Jeezus never even thought of trying. Not that he couldn’a done them if’n his mind hadn’t been took up with other shit wot wasn’t as much fun, on account of they says he could do everything and anything he wanted to, and all at the same time. Poor guy, I guess he was just one o’them folks wot’s never had a whole lot of fun and weren’t exactly a laugh a minute to hang out with. I suppose if’n he lived now he’d a’been diagnosed as a bipolarbear, or something like that, and he would’a gone on TV and talked about his condition and made a lot of money. But never mind about that. The thing is we got more fun going on here’n a barrel full of monkeys, and maybe they’ll even give me a walk-on part in the floor show. I’ll let you know. In the meantime I’m gonna put my pencil away and slap on my makeup and one of them blond wigs I stole outta Miss Floozie Da Smelley’s suitcase. See you later and I’ll be back when the excitement for today is endethed.