More Lunatic Ravings…
Read a new Lunatic Ravings every Saturday!
Black Stone Cherry—Between The Devil & The Deep Blue Sea
MoTW—The Last Exorcism
I feel pretty bad not posting something the last couple of weeks, but
it’s really not my fault. I intended on posting at least once during
that two week span because I was hoping to have good news.
Alas, that was not to be.
You see, all my letter and emails to Bob are still unanswered, wondering
why he won’t let me come over in August to visit him. That hurts my
inner being.
It hurt so much that I flew out to Nebraska two weeks ago.
That’s right. I actually purchased a ticket for a flight to Nebraska.
Again, that’s right. I took a teensy-weensy chunk out of my vast fortune
and bought a ticket so I could board a plane, fly for a couple hours and
then land somewhere in Nebraska just so I cold confront Bob face-to-face
and resolve this like men, once and for all.
Everything was good. The plane left Detroit on time and, luckily, was
not hit by the constant stream of bullets flying around.
The flight was good, no turbulence. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway
since I was drunk. First class, baby!
As we descended into Omaha, we had a scare when the pilot couldn’t spot
the dirt runway and then, when he did, it was filled with cows. Luckily
out pilot was top o’ the line and he managed to land on a nearby county
road only flattening one tractor as well as the farmer riding it. I
tipped the pilot heavily for that.
After a short walk through the cows and a field of corn, I arrived at
the airhut. Detroit might be filled with bullets whizzing by your head
24/7, but at least they have an airPORT. But, this was Nebraska so you
gots to take what you gets.
The town taxi was out of commission so I hired a stagecoach which was
guided by a blind mule and old horse, told the
driver/conductor/whateverthe fuckyoucallhim where I wanted to go and we
were off.
We were halfway to the destination when a rather large tumbleweed came
out of nowhere and knocked the driver/conductor/whatever off his perch.
He fell to the ground but quickly hopped back up probably because he was
used to this happening but I guess he wasn’t used to the pack of feral
wolves that appeared from the same place as that tumbleweed since he
really didn’t put up too much of a fight as they tore him to shreds.
I grabbed my phone and, since this was a horror movie come to life,
there were no bars. Of course not. That’s what happens in situations
like this.
Mulling over my options, I decided the best course of action was to
drive/handle/steer the stagecoach myself so I climbed thru the
sunroof/large hole, grabbed the reins, shouted out a hearty “HAYOOO!”
and off we went, leaving those vicious wolves/hungry dogs in the dust.
COMING NEXT: If there’s a part one, there’s gotta be a part two.
Right?
