AnarchoSlacker

So yeah, I was hanging out with MacKenzie and my new girlfriend Flower and she said she would make us some dinner.  We were going to go out to eat, but the Burger King is a fascist dictator who won’t be happy until he’s assassinated Mayor McCheese,  brutalized the Hamburglar, and enslaved all of the fry guys.  It’ll happen because Anderson Cooper said it would.  Flower hit a fry guy with her VW Microbus a couple of weeks ago, and we nursed it back to health.  It could have been a possum, but it’s all cool.  So yeah, Flower was going to make her favorite tofu with soy-cheese and bean-curd on the side, but we were out of tofu.  While MacKenzie was looking through the cupboards he found a jar of blue play doh and told Flower that “play-doh” was oriental for “special blue tofu” and “non-toxic, ages 3 and up” was Nepalese for “cook before serving.”  Flower fried the play dough in sunflower oil and melted the soy-cheese over it and served it to me.  I was so buzzed I thought that the blue color was part food coloring and part hallucination.  I ate most of it before I noticed the plastic jar it came in on the floor.  I yelled at her, but she started crying frantically and began burning her cookbook on the gas stove.  The smoke spread into the living room and now everything smells like a diarama fire.  MacKenzie thinks it’s funny, but I crapped blue for the last week, and I can’t feel my pinky fingers.  He thinks I brained my damage, but I think the damage was from all of the hammer blows my last girlfriend inflicted against my skull.

Peace!