The sound of resonating crystal began at

The sound of resonating crystal began at 3:33 am. The glass next to my bed, half full of wine vibrated and rang. I noticed, along it's edge a trail of fleeting condensation, as if

the memory of my boyhood was just returning to me after the stroke. I thought I had lost everything, but something of a spark remained - just getting swirlies in elementary, but

was all I needed to explain my life-long phobia of public toilets.

What's even worse than a mere public toilet is a porta-potty. I loathe those things and refuse to bake inside of them, surrounded by the stetch of human excrement like some

open sewer running through the streets of a medieval town. No, baking was out of the question. My only other option was to reach

for my tooth brush and clean those dentures, right between her legs. This grandma had put dentures in her crotch, this was a real life Vagina Dentata. The only question was

did she have a strong enough dentifrice to clean that maw. Even the dentist in Little Shop of Horrors would have had to

enlist a legion of dominatrix MerryMaids to scrape & scrub away the festering accumulation of filth in that mouth. She settled on a cocktail of Comet & Listerine, with a Ty-D-Bol

chaser. That should do the trick. The intermingling of household chemical odors created an intoxicating brew as she poured them into a martini glass. For good measure, she added

the last of her absinthe. Not that it would make much difference. She zipped her jacket opened to her belly button and opened it wide. Whoever found her would get a good show.