Road Diary Montana Tundra - Spirit Trashie
posted by April 17 at 10:35 AMon
I’m Eastbound I 90 - 94. Billings, MT to North Dakota. Head Like a Kite is on the road for a month. 1st day here of a straight shot drive to New York. Mileage of the initial phasing through altitude sees wine snow cones, phones, and Super Dave.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the Trashies. They are true dominance. That, is how you tour. I dedicate this tour to the Trashies and the swath of their giant naugahyde blitzkrieg. Please, Obi Won Trashie, be the atlas of my eastward seek. The asphalt grinder files me down. The enzymes of the highway tar slice me by. Help. I must emerge and swivel. I know I can be more Trashie.
Slept passenger seat and had a half dream about the Trashies. They were teaching an etiquette class. Except it was the opposite of etiquette. They were teaching how to be un-mannerly, rude, and messed up. The singer from Bare Naked Ladies was there taking a penmanship lesson, but he kept writing too neatly.
His cursive was all perfectly swirled and neat. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t write messy. The Trashies were screaming at him and haranguing him and making him do pushups. “This W is way too flowing, and that ‘E’ looks like a Summer’s Eve commercial! You call that a ‘Z’?” His Z had some extra swirl they couldn’t get over.
The Trashies had a pet vulture named Hector. He was their mascot, their pride and joy. It was like falconry, but the Trashies had pimp vulture, who wasn't blind folded. Hector kept messing with the BNL singer, breaking his pencils and pulling his hair out with his beak. A pack of sorority girls was there and had been totally in love with the BNL guy. He was singing all his happy songs for them on an acoustic and they were swooning. Hector flew over, ripped the guitar out of his hand, pecked it into scrap wood, and chained him to a desk for his Trashie penmanship lesson.
Impressed with Hector’s display of manliness, the sorority girls fell in love with him instead. The end of the dream had the BNL guy being forced to get a neck tattoo of the Cookie Monster. Then, he had to take dictation, in messy handwriting, of Hector reciting pimp love letters to the girls:
“Dear Sally, when it is your assigned slot, I will love you down. I will shine my cane for you. I will clothe you in silk and take you roller skating. Your dimples flotate me and rouse my pectorals to bulge for your protection. I will play you the ‘Canopy Level Sounds’ CD I purchased at the music store. I will squeegee you with lotions and caress your troubles into oblivion.”The BNL guy would show him what he had written, but when it was too neat, Hector would tear it up and began again. BNL lady guy would whimper and sniffle.
Hector was sitting on a Lazy Boy lounger in a smoking jacket with the sorority girls snuggled up to him, petting him, cooing, and feeding him ox intestines and optic nerve linguini chum. The Trashies smiled proudly at their boy.