Thinkin’ of mah baby in a dirndl. Hubba hubba.
I remember a horrid jacket that I got in a thrift store, ages ago… white with very wide salmon pink lapels. I wonder where it is now? Landfill? Some other weirdo teen? I would imagine that it had magical powers for being so hideous… like being able to telekinetically manipulate the hair of any haired being within my line of sight.
I remember when I was younger…it was three in the morning on the coldest night of the year…I’d just about finished building a device to keep a squad of fascistic ghosts from manifesting themselves in the land of the living…I realized that I needed a belt buckle to complete the machine, but not just any belt buckle would do… the pewter death’s head which held up the slacks of Moira, Prime Minister of Baboons. She didn’t part with it as willingly as I’d hoped… but that’s a story for another time. Suffice to say that I’m still around to tell the tale.
Trick or treat!
And now, I must flee off to work. Until later, dear journal!