Haunted
Being haunted by things makes you awesome and also sexy. This is a steady truth. Latigo Flint has come to know this.
Norman Maclean was haunted by waters. See, see?! That's awesome; it's sexy. Well guess what... Latigo Flint is haunted by basil!!!
Yeeeeah! Equally sexy ain't it, to be haunted by basil?
Latigo Flint has decided to compile a comprehensive list of all the things that haunt him so that when Latigo Flint is conversing with goth chicks, college girls and female whitewater rafting guides with sunscreened noses and cutoff jeans, it won't matter where the conversation goes, Latigo Flint will always be able to reference something he is haunted by.
So for starters--in addition to being haunted by basil, Latigo Flint is also haunted by soda machines that steal dollars, hangnails and kelp. As well, Latigo Flint is haunted by bagpipes, marigolds and torn dust jackets.
And yogurt! I'm haunted by yogurt!
Furthermore, Latigo Flint finds himself haunted by stucco, egrets and blood producing sneezes.
But mostly I'm haunted by you.
In summation, you haunt me.
(The goth chicks, college girls and female whitewater rafting guides with sunscreened noses and cutoff jeans will immediately attempt to sleep with Latigo Flint at this point. Of this there is little doubt.)
posted by Latigo Flint @ 10:48 PM
13 comments
13 Comments:
Is it because woman find danger sexy, and because hauntings can be dangerous -- yet because you're strong you can protect them from...
The logic is incredible.
However, I am unconvinced of the... potency of being haunted by everyday objects, condiments and bacteria cultures.
However, as I am unexperienced with hauntings, I will differ to you Latigo.
Or was this simply a clever post to reach out for help with your cocaine addiction?
That was beautiful. After reading it, even I admit a vague feeling of tumescence.
As a result, I must now perform an act of ritual cleansing involving a large flat rock and a rubber mallet.
I am haunted by lemurs. They act like monkeys but they aren't. Damn poseurs. The ring-tailed ones are the worst.
what about...pesto?
the only thing scary about yogurt is the fruity bottom.
I'm haunted by the ghosts of innocence. And those kids who died as a direct result of my careless driving, oh so many years ago. But mostly, the ghosts of innocence.
I want to hear more about this gal you're in love with. Will the mighty Latigo Flint be tamed and caged? Will he remain a mustang running free through the grassland, now trailed by a wild mare?
I'm haunted by the fact that I'm not haunted by anything. Do you think those Goth chicks will like me for that?
What if you find yourself haunted by compliments, agreements and adoration?
What then?
Sleep, of course, is all that they will do. For everyone knows that a haunted person is too frightened to get "it" up. "It" being a euphemism for dildo.
That is a mighty comprehensive list of things that haunt you. I've been told that a good charm against things that haunt is Catherine Zeta Jones. I'm not sure why. But to get to her, you must first fight the wraith that is Michael Douglas.
Haunted...by me?
Oh, Latigo!
I had no idea!
Make sweet love to me in my dorm room!
Mysterious Cale! You captivate me, regardless of gender--I'm not ashamed to admit it. Splendid to hear from you again. You are right to defer to me on the subject of being haunted by stuff. I've been haunted all my life.
I'm very sorry for inadvertently turning you on Lance. Rest assured though, your secret is safe with me... and my millions of readers.
Top drawer Monkeypotpie. I too mistrust lemurs. Lemurs are not to be trusted. Lemurs dream about tearing out human throats. Did you know this? They once hooked a sleeping lemur up to some sort of brain wave digitization device and the crude waveform was that of a human throat splitting and tearing beneath his savage jaws. Most unsettling if you ask me!
Yes, that also Ho. I'm most definitely haunted by pesto!
Yogurt is not to be trusted LBB. I believe I've been more than clear on the subject. (Perhaps even to the point of tedium.)
I feel you Trev. Me too and then some on that particular haunting. And have you read my babblings for any extended period of time? This girl ruins me and has for quite some time. My adoration for her is tilted and abstract. The sketches of my love look like they've been finger-painted by sneezing hobos.
For whatever it's worth, I've yet to meet a Goth chick that doesn't go all limp and lez at the mere mention of you Cindy-Lou.
DMor!!! I see your eye DMor. And you smile at me even yet. What then?! What then indeed! Fuckin' jackpot! That's what then. I'm not ashamed to admit I live for adoration. ('Course a buck or two would also be nice.)
Heyyyyyy... are you flirting with me Old Hoss? You are, aren't you?
I am nothing if not comprehensive Amandarama. I desire this Catherine Zeta Jones charm now. I'm not afraid of Michael Douglas--he's better looking than me and therefore has more to lose.
The Paula! A college girl! This soon! And those foolish fiends didn't think my plan would work.
(I must warn you though, you're playing with insanity. Many encyclopedias cross reference the entry: Squinty-Eyed Gunslinger with the one on Drowning Rats in a Cage.)
You might as well take that big bowl of charisma you have there, grate some sensuality cheese over the top of it, and head off to work as a bouncer (with a degree in philosophy) in a roadhouse somewhere.
You'll meet a fine good hearted lady with massive hair, like in that film.
what's it called?
oh yeah
Roadhouse
Post a Comment
<< Home