Lavender Angels
Today Latigo Flint attacked his favorite pair of socks with a hunting knife. Latigo Flint's feet were in them at the time. Latigo Flint doesn't even know why he did it. Oh wait, yes he does. A pretty girl was watching and he wanted her to think he was complicated and mysterious. But unfortunately girls, shallow things that they are, don't seem to find anything complicated and mysterious whatsoever about self-inflicted foot mutilation--not in a good way at any rate.
I shudder and lurch in the presence of the Starbucks barista. My adoration for her is tilted and abstract. The sketches of my love look like they were finger-painted by sneezing hobos.
It turns out that if you shriek long enough on a crowded street corner, you'll start to find things to really shriek at--demonic weasels in the clouds, four foot spiders humping hydrants and whatnot. Once you can see them, well, that's when you get to kill them with scream arrows. And my friends, you don't know what accomplishment is until you've killed a demonic weasel with a scream arrow. They whimper and explode. Seismic splatters verify triumph and then topless angels applaud. They're light purple all over--the applauding angels are. (That's lavender I suppose.) And topless did I mention?!
It's enough to make you touch yourself in public.
But it's not enough to make a Starbucks barista fall in love with you. Starbucks baristas have dated crazy men before. They know better than to now.
posted by Latigo Flint @ 12:12 AM
22 comments
22 Comments:
topless cherubs?
Ah, Torero? Cut off both your ears and present them to her. Then she'll know that you think she is a fine job.
Too funny! Love it.
Hoss sent me~
Perhaps you should try to win the love and admiration of this barista in a different way. Self mutilation and mystery are certainly sexy, but I think maybe you should pierce something instead. How about piercing your hips and hanging your guns from iron rings? Just a suggestion.
have you tried just tipping her really well for a few weeks and then seeing if that helps at all?
I'm telling you. Your standard are too high.
Start hitting on Denny's waitresses. They'll sleep with anybody.
Once again, Thank you Latigo Flint. I was planning on traveling to the largest state fair in texas this weekend with the intent of wooing carney women. I had planned on deliberately thrusting my hand betwixt two massive gears on the Zipper to achieve a certain level of complexity and mystery that they would find irresistable.
I now know this is a bad idea.
Mayhap, I'll merely practice staring, squinty eyed into the rearview mirror on the long ride down. Perhaps that, coupled with a carpet bag chocked full of baking soda will have the same effect.
"The sketches of my love look like they were finger-painted by sneezing hobos."
Sometimes that what my students' homework looks like. On a good day.
This whole post, in spite of its brevity, is complicated and mysterious.
*swoons*
*ponders becoming a barista*
Interesting and yes,entertaining writing style. I, too liked the line: "The sketches of my love look like they were finger-painted by sneezing hobos." I have to study that one for a while. In fact I can forsee me wishing to use that line sometime in one of my posts - clearly with credit to its origin, of course.
...Here by way of an invitation from Hoss.
Apparently Mr. Flint had time not only to drink 37 Coors longnecks this mornin', but also to send a certain Hoss on a pimpin' expedition. :)
(Gotta admit though, it's hard NOT to preach the gospel of an otter-lovin' gunslinger.)
Sir,
News of your skewered tooties prompted two bouts of inappropriate public self-touching. I have been barred from the library for five years.
Don't be too disheartened. There's bloke I fancy whose clodhoppers are little more than bloodied stumps.
My mother works at Denny's.
yes, you should always send pieces of yourself, rather than just chop them off and leave them to rot wherever they fall.
but don't send fingers. she'll not want you then.
I think I love your post titles just a tiny bit more than the posts sometimes. Lavender Angels, that just sounds nice.
So what color were the socks, Latty? I mean before they turned blood red. See, much like flashing lights can trigger seizures, your sock color might just set the tone for your day every single morning.
Try periwinkle socks. It works for me.
The important question is how are your socks? favorite pair of socks are hard to come by so I hope that that made it through the ordeal.
I own this pickup line, along with all its subsidiary rights, however: I will license it to you to try once with the Starbucks Barista:
"Pardon me, ma'am, but could you please sniff this rag and tell me if you think it smells like chloroform?"
Long-time reader, Latigo, etc., etc.
latigo? are you ok? this isn't like you . . . you've been gone so long. did you really chop up your feet? have they taken you away in a backwards white coat??!!
Latigo, one day you will find the right woman. And when that day comes, I'll be right there to tell her about the time you masturbated to phantom angels.
That sounds like more fun than the giant stuffed animals that crawl under my car at night and wait until morning, when they leap out and eviscerate themselves and try to stuff my mouth with their puffy cottons innards, choking me.
Naw Ho, the older ones.
I am the bull Old Hoss, very astute of you to notice. And thanks for the hat tip. I'm much obliged.
Thanks Luce- Hoss is my oldest friend.
Brain piercing Monkey... it's the next big thing. All the cool kids are doing it.
I don't want her to think that I think she's a whore Tabitha Jane. (Even though she really kind of is.)
And so LBB, Blonde and Tuco should abandon their quest for the gold because two armies fighting over a bridge stand in their way? Is that what you're saying?!!!
Well, not necessarily Ithiel--Carnie gals differ a mite from Starbucks baristas... Your excellent hand mutilation plan may work yet.
But you pat them on the head and tell them it's wonderful nonetheless, right Amandarama? (Kinda like being married in many ways I'd imagine.)
Thank you MJ. Caffeine is certainly one path to my twisted heart.
You have my blessing Hale McKay. (tee hee).
Old Hoss and I have an arrangement Ari.
I applied age enhancing image manipulation software to your picture there Greta so I wouldn't feel so dirty while imagining that.
That's pretty funny Jinx. I'll backhand LBB across the face with my riding glove next time I see him.
Hey Forth, why should that make any sort of diff.... Ohhhhhhhhhh, right.
It would make a good specialty soap wouldn't it Cindy-Lou?
They were calico Dave... light calico socks.
They're quite ruined TSP, and no good to me now. It's very sad. Thanks for asking though.
That's a rare shade of brilliance there Mr. Scoop. (I know who you are, and hold you in rather high esteem. Nice to hear from you.)
Is it now Dear? Okay, if you say so.
Thank you for your concern Tabitha. I was dead, but I'm feeling much better now.
I wouldn't have it any other way Trevor. And quite frankly, if that freaks her out, she and I probably aren't going to last very long at all!
Well christ Steve... I'm not so sure about that! Yours sounds pretty friggin' awesome right there.
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