unholy weekend

in the aftermath of a soundly unholy wednesday evening, brought my red-colored glasses to the west village on all hallows eve. into the brew for our next devilish round:

the two large nuns with larger pints in a flourescent-lit cafe, on bad terms

princess leia, mona lisa, and the geisha spilling ketchup at the hotdog stand

operation on wheels undergoing repairs by the geico gecko

the lone ghost, tilted, blankly staring at the fire hydrant where nobody came to meet her

all eight slices of pizza on the march

the border patrol guard, cleavage spilling, duly noting obama came out of a white pussy

and an uncanny turnout of sweeny todds.

i think only phil would dare write the play to contain them all (and kissinger)...