The life of a rock musician interpreter,

The life of a rock musician interpreter, ain't easy. I've done some tough gigs, I mean Andy McCoy, Dylan, Cobain, and Michael Stipe. Once I misinterpreted Ozzy singing
"Paranoid" while on the Broadway bus heading north to the Vietnamese business district. Everyone looked at me as if I was crazy. The driver was entertained by it all, since he was
one of those slot machine freaks. He just pulled on the arm and listened to the clicking and the clacking. The rolling numbers and dials made him think about Mommy.
Mommy used to sit and play the slots all day while he waited in the car. It was very exciting when he became a Big Boy and was allowed inside to run between the machine and the ATM
to draw out money from his college fund so that Mommy could pull the handle again. They were down to her last $20 when suddenly she hit the jackpot, had a heart attack, and died.
The kids gathered around Mommy’s corpse sprawled on the casino floor near the slots. “What the hell do we do now? How do we cash in a dead woman’s jackpot?” “I have an idea! Let’s
…" Stealthily, they stripped the corpse & Jen wore her dead mom's rags, took her ID & chips & headed for the cashier. "I'd like to cash out," she chirped, trying to hide her braces
This proved difficult because she was wearing body braces, not the type that food gets stuck in. A few contorted moves and she freed herself from this exoskeleton, falling limply
on the floor as a flabby puddle of human skin. The braces lurched forward, studying its now-empty robotic arms and legs. "Finally, I am free of my fleshparts," it said, "now I can
eat all the spaghetti I want without fear of gaining weight!" But alas, the noodles just fell right through him, leaving marinara on his servos and jamming them in place. Ouch.

Started: 2016-05-16 03:55:46
Finished: 2023-01-07 18:50:12

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