May 2004
That's weasel speak which you should understand, weasel lover. I saw your favorite gas bubble hanging around the touch and go, just basically being a giant pest and drinking too much dirty water, which everybody knows isn't too smart of a trick when you are thin as a broken weeping willow tree branch and calling for a mercy shunt to take you to the promised land, there weasel lover. Don't think me and my friends aren't savvy to your tricks. Me and the skeletons were dancing up a storm and rattling a few bones to ' rock the casbah' down Juarez way next to the juke joint along highway 41 by your best friends sisters phone booth heaven. Remember that story?
Well anyway, that's when your helicopter girls dropped in to pretty much steal everything they could grab that wasn't attached to someone or something, which means they grabbed my little monkey friend, Fredo. Fredo and I have been through a lot of mud and wine together and his daily shot of whiskey, toe and temple rub. I tell you he gets agitated if he gets knocked off his routine. I do not want you to be responsible for the loss of any monkey's juice, so my advice to you would be contact your helicopter friends and tell them just let Fredo go. He has a tendency to start gnawing on womens kneecaps when he's without for too long and really doesn't care who he offends or pisses on.
You could just stuff him in the nearest mailbox that you don't need a key to open. I know what you are thinking, but don't worry about Fredo, he won't suffocate; he's part Belgian waffle, so he has a little toaster stuffing in his genes. My advice is let Fredo free and your helicopter friends will have that small debt from 1972 erased from my memory, and I won't mention any of this to the command in control.
A word to the wise here, weasel lover, don't disappoint your next of kin who love you more than rags rubbing chicken breasts on a Mexican holiday for those hair challenged bobo's. Got it, get it!
Remember me to your cork sniffing friend, Humpo, and tell him I still have the greens from the Saleno's bakery counter that he passed on last Tuesday afternoon when it was raining horned frogs from hell and dolls, yeah dolls.
Love to all your plastic friends and barn mates,
Fifth in Command,
Basil Fassad
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