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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.

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