Cypress Oracle
Dec 14th, 2002, 01:18:38 AM
What the <smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont> was that from?
Maybe it was an epic novel. Maybe it was a beautiful poem. Perhaps a film of some sort. If so, a comedy he discerned. One with a tiny cartoon mouse who properly <smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont>s other mouses. What would the title of such a ficticious work be? A Tour de Force of Messa Pleasure: The Aphrodisiac Cheese. An X rated mouse cartoon. It would be not only slutty but vulgar, too. The female mouse would do an Herbal Essence routine while smelling said cheese. Then, Mickey Mouse would make his move, when chicka was O vulnerable.
The images ran through his mind.
Wow. That's pretty disgusting.
He ran it through his mind again. This time Selma Blair was the mouse-tail and all-suducing a hot and bothered
Laura Harring, her big round ears quivering.
It was HOT, but he decided to lose the tail... and the ears. Fantasy complete.
I would be such a good film maker.
But seriously, what was that line from: "me knew it was ice?"
Cypress gestured for the barkeep to bring him another shot. "A bigger shot glass, too. Give me like one of those
metal glass thingies."
THEN, FROM DOWN THE BAR: A CHERUB PLAYING HIS GUITAR.
"Hello Cherub, Cypress called."
"Me knew it was ice," the corpulent baby replied.
"I KNOW." Cypress was just too happy to see the mythological manifestation of his mind. His mind had outraced him to an intelligible response. Back track. WHAT DID HE SAY?!
"Me knew it was ice." The cherub began rocking out on his guitar.
"WAIT! Dude--wha-what is that from?"
"It is Stairway to Heaven."
"NO! The thing you said."
"You coined that phrase, Cypress Orbacle."
"ORACLE!"
"Oracle."
"How?! When?"
"You were six years old--at your grandma's house."
Cypress racked his brain, his face flush from strain. "I don't remember anything before seven."
"You were at your grandma's house and you went to the freezer. You opened the freezer. You saw what
you thought were cocaine rocks[/i].
"Wait! I was six. How did I know about cocaine rocks?"
"Mercery."
"Oh."
"Anyway--you accused your grandmother of snorting the <smallfont color=#FFFF40>-Censored-</smallfont> up her nose."
"R e a l l y?"
"Yes. She busted your fanny her arthritic hand."
The bartender handed Cypress a regular size shot glass.
"You drink?" Cypress asked the cherub.
The cherub, playing softly on his guitar, eyes half closed in harmony nodded.
The glass came flying down the bar to the fat floating child, who took it up with one hand, downed it, and then returned it, ever so softly to the linoleum surface of the bar counter.
"A bigger shot glass!.......................METAL!" Cypress shouted.
"You yo-yo! That's gonna cost you." The Jedi polite bartender pointed.
In actuality the glass had flown off the counter, and shattered upon impact with the floor.
"Oh, <smallfont color=#FFFF40>-Censored-</smallfont>. I forgot the cherub was my imaginary friend. Yeah."
Cypress reached to take out his wallet, plopped it open, and began rummaging through his bills.
About fifteen seconds passed.
A defeated Cypress lie his wallet on the counter. "I'm too drunk to count."
The bartender stared at him for several moments.
"Take the <smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont>ing thing, <smallfont color=#FFFF40>-Censored-</smallfont>." Cypress coughed.
"You want me to call you a cab?"
"I have a car, <smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont>."
"You're too drunk to drive."
"He'll drive me home." Cypress waved his thumb in direction of the cherub. "You got a lincense?"
The cherub nodded.
"He'll just sit on my lap and steer. I'll push the peddles." He turned back to the chubby infant. "You're
going to need to put some pants on by the way."
The barkeep turned away, singling out a phone behind the bar .
"Back to the story."
"After she had spanked you, you told her 'me knew it was ice', like you were just kidding."
"To get out of trouble?"
The cherub's nod was faint, yet assured.
"Shouldn't I have said that before the spanking?"
"One would think. Anyway--she broke down after you said that, told you you were right in the first place.
Those were cocaine rocks in the freezer. Your grandmother was a coke addict."
"That would explain the constant sniffing."
"Your grandpa--although she never told you or admitted to police, died as a result of the coke rocks."
"What do you mean?"
"His favorite drink was scotch on the rocks."
"NO!"
"Yes. His heart failed him."
"My mother told me he died because he was stung by a butterfly in a cotton patch."
"No--the autopsy showed that he had drugs in his system, as well as alcohol, of course. But, they never traced it back to grandma."
"But she admitted it to me?"
"Only six months after his death. The gulit must have gotten to her."
Cypress shot up from his seat and exclaimed outloud for all patrons to hear, "that bitch stole him from me, my own grandmother no less!"
The drunken slob burst into tears.
The cherub attempted to match the mood with his delicate strings.
Cypress managed a croak from his lips, tears streaming down his face. "I loved that man. He let me sit on is knee. Mark my words, fat naked baby.... I WILL KILL THE BITCH THAT STOLE MY GRANDDADDY FROM ME!"
Maybe it was an epic novel. Maybe it was a beautiful poem. Perhaps a film of some sort. If so, a comedy he discerned. One with a tiny cartoon mouse who properly <smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont>s other mouses. What would the title of such a ficticious work be? A Tour de Force of Messa Pleasure: The Aphrodisiac Cheese. An X rated mouse cartoon. It would be not only slutty but vulgar, too. The female mouse would do an Herbal Essence routine while smelling said cheese. Then, Mickey Mouse would make his move, when chicka was O vulnerable.
The images ran through his mind.
Wow. That's pretty disgusting.
He ran it through his mind again. This time Selma Blair was the mouse-tail and all-suducing a hot and bothered
Laura Harring, her big round ears quivering.
It was HOT, but he decided to lose the tail... and the ears. Fantasy complete.
I would be such a good film maker.
But seriously, what was that line from: "me knew it was ice?"
Cypress gestured for the barkeep to bring him another shot. "A bigger shot glass, too. Give me like one of those
metal glass thingies."
THEN, FROM DOWN THE BAR: A CHERUB PLAYING HIS GUITAR.
"Hello Cherub, Cypress called."
"Me knew it was ice," the corpulent baby replied.
"I KNOW." Cypress was just too happy to see the mythological manifestation of his mind. His mind had outraced him to an intelligible response. Back track. WHAT DID HE SAY?!
"Me knew it was ice." The cherub began rocking out on his guitar.
"WAIT! Dude--wha-what is that from?"
"It is Stairway to Heaven."
"NO! The thing you said."
"You coined that phrase, Cypress Orbacle."
"ORACLE!"
"Oracle."
"How?! When?"
"You were six years old--at your grandma's house."
Cypress racked his brain, his face flush from strain. "I don't remember anything before seven."
"You were at your grandma's house and you went to the freezer. You opened the freezer. You saw what
you thought were cocaine rocks[/i].
"Wait! I was six. How did I know about cocaine rocks?"
"Mercery."
"Oh."
"Anyway--you accused your grandmother of snorting the <smallfont color=#FFFF40>-Censored-</smallfont> up her nose."
"R e a l l y?"
"Yes. She busted your fanny her arthritic hand."
The bartender handed Cypress a regular size shot glass.
"You drink?" Cypress asked the cherub.
The cherub, playing softly on his guitar, eyes half closed in harmony nodded.
The glass came flying down the bar to the fat floating child, who took it up with one hand, downed it, and then returned it, ever so softly to the linoleum surface of the bar counter.
"A bigger shot glass!.......................METAL!" Cypress shouted.
"You yo-yo! That's gonna cost you." The Jedi polite bartender pointed.
In actuality the glass had flown off the counter, and shattered upon impact with the floor.
"Oh, <smallfont color=#FFFF40>-Censored-</smallfont>. I forgot the cherub was my imaginary friend. Yeah."
Cypress reached to take out his wallet, plopped it open, and began rummaging through his bills.
About fifteen seconds passed.
A defeated Cypress lie his wallet on the counter. "I'm too drunk to count."
The bartender stared at him for several moments.
"Take the <smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont>ing thing, <smallfont color=#FFFF40>-Censored-</smallfont>." Cypress coughed.
"You want me to call you a cab?"
"I have a car, <smallfont color={hovercolor}>-Censored-</smallfont>."
"You're too drunk to drive."
"He'll drive me home." Cypress waved his thumb in direction of the cherub. "You got a lincense?"
The cherub nodded.
"He'll just sit on my lap and steer. I'll push the peddles." He turned back to the chubby infant. "You're
going to need to put some pants on by the way."
The barkeep turned away, singling out a phone behind the bar .
"Back to the story."
"After she had spanked you, you told her 'me knew it was ice', like you were just kidding."
"To get out of trouble?"
The cherub's nod was faint, yet assured.
"Shouldn't I have said that before the spanking?"
"One would think. Anyway--she broke down after you said that, told you you were right in the first place.
Those were cocaine rocks in the freezer. Your grandmother was a coke addict."
"That would explain the constant sniffing."
"Your grandpa--although she never told you or admitted to police, died as a result of the coke rocks."
"What do you mean?"
"His favorite drink was scotch on the rocks."
"NO!"
"Yes. His heart failed him."
"My mother told me he died because he was stung by a butterfly in a cotton patch."
"No--the autopsy showed that he had drugs in his system, as well as alcohol, of course. But, they never traced it back to grandma."
"But she admitted it to me?"
"Only six months after his death. The gulit must have gotten to her."
Cypress shot up from his seat and exclaimed outloud for all patrons to hear, "that bitch stole him from me, my own grandmother no less!"
The drunken slob burst into tears.
The cherub attempted to match the mood with his delicate strings.
Cypress managed a croak from his lips, tears streaming down his face. "I loved that man. He let me sit on is knee. Mark my words, fat naked baby.... I WILL KILL THE BITCH THAT STOLE MY GRANDDADDY FROM ME!"