Wednesday, April 11, 2012

Still Waiting for Gadot

Another month until surgery.

Results of CAT scan  basically looks like this.

Thursday, February 2, 2012

My Drunk Marcus Story

By Rev. Joe H. Borfo

(excuse my poor grammar and punctuation.)

     Once upon a time on The Reverend Dak Ultimak's birthday, Franz and Marcus fell asleep on the Tren Way bridge.  It was super cold that night and I was not sleepy.  I somehow managed to get them into my car in their zombie state so I could take them home.  I had a fun night and felt generous enough to want to take these silly newbies home. They were new to LA and the east side and had no idea how to get back.  Marcus was just a newly arrived Angeleno at the time.

      I managed to get Franz partially awake so I could slowly coax him to disclose address in his apathetic drunken slumber.  I got to the cubcamp box apt., or whatever they called it, and proceeded to scream bloody murder in the car until Franz would wake the fuck up, take his bike, and go home.   Not even a thank you.  More like a half-assed "good luck" smile as he walked away.  During all the while, Marcus never budged awake for a goddam second.

     My mistake was not asking Franz where Marcus lived.  Maybe I did, but I never got the answer. So I am driving around screaming my lungs out for Marcus to wake up and tell me where the fuck to take him.  Nothing.  Maybe a half smirk and gibberish before passing out for the rest of the night in my car.  I tried everything to wake him up. Stood him up. Splashed water on his face - This only resulted into him going into a lame red-faced raging fist fight with me and passing out again on the sidewalk.  It was cold.  I drag him like a corpse into my car.  I'm driving around aimlessly trying to figure out what to do. I park the car next to Echo Park lake for some reason because I used to sleep there at nights when I was single. I didn't know what else to do.  I call maria and tell her the situation and I'm not coming home until he wakes up...

     I should have left the fucker on the sidewalk.  He wakes me up 9am, screaming at me like a punk from the backseat, "Where the fuck are we?"  I told him he passed out, tried to fight me and wouldn't tell me where he lived.

(Turns out the fucker lived in the same apt. as Franz!!! )

     I was so done with the whole good Samaritan routine.  I took his bike off the rack and tossed it on the grass. I threw him his bag, told him how to ride home, and then I sped off.

    The End.