houseband

“Mind you, I’ve seen enough giant rats in this town to do me a lifetime, boy.”

“Come on, Uncle Zach. We like the same shades, same drugs, same women. Why should this be different? You *gotta* dig Firesign Theatre, man. It’s just the chillest.”

They listened some more. “Okay, who’s this Hemlock Stones they keep talking about?” demands Domino’s uncle at a tipping point. “Why is he listening to that crazy, transvestite woman and her problems; why do they keep looking for pirates down at that wharf?”

“It’s Sherlock Holmes, stoopid. Man.” Domino shakes his head. “A *spoof*, dad-i-o.”

“I’m not some beatnik fool. Stop calling me… *dad-i-o.*”

“Alright,” Domino relents. “But just *listen*.”

They listen again. “Me and the doc on the dock with the dog — the deadly dog,” the record rapped after a spell. Then said dog exploded.

“Honestly, son, I think I’ve had enough,” and Uncle Zach moved toward the table loaded with their drugs to retrieve a heroin syringe. “I’m going to a place I *understand*.”

A downcast Domino lifts up the needle while Uncle Zach inserts his own.

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Filed under *Second Life, Gaston

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