the chat before i learned everything there was to learn about why…

i decided to write a new blog dealing with the last subject i mentioned on the previous blog. this is because it’s supposed to deal exclusively with the guy who ate omar sharif and sounds like eduardo cianelli and why i always seem to run into them out where maxx runs free as the wind and tires float the ocean green, though they tend to beach themselves like black circular sea animals with tread instead of scales but don’t decompose like whales do. the photos from the previous blog will offer a tire with an inner-circle that can house a fourteen-inch rim and be about 32 inches high and another one that can house a forty-two inch rim and be about five and a half feet high.
i’m not sure why i’m thinking about lobsters right now….
as i was leaving the beach after maxx-time and checking big-tire-to-the-sea progress, as seems to have become the case as of late, the grifting lizards – a sensible-sedan full of them – were not in the parking lot this time. rather, they were pulled over on the side of the path, the small road that leads to the parking lot that Madoff’s son had driven past me and maxx on just before he became “lunch ‘n a suit” for that eduardo cianelli-sounding guy’s trainee a few weeks/blogs back when i learned how well the lizard people can clean their blood-stained automobile upholstery and drive at the same time. it was the the first and only time i mentioned grifting lizards from mars and multitasking.
(i do these little “reviews” for the sake of the newer reader and the memory-challenged older reader. i suggest you step back a year or so blogwise if you’re new here or are a weed smoker, new or old.)
this time he was with his associate, the quiet, dark-skinned woman who i met the first time. she was smiling and surprised me with her set of pearly-white human teeth. up to this point any time i saw her, she had those little, razor-sharp teeth that offered the menacing lizard-smile. now it was as if i were looking at someone’s eastern european, possibly gypsy, aunt. in the back was the madoff’s son-looking guy lizard (his lower set of lizard-teeth visible as i looked back to wave “hi”), and a real “unsuited” lizard person, something that caused me to “lose my cool” momentarily. “calm down” said the woman lizard person with the new pearly-white dentures. her voice had a “popeye-on-helium” sound to it. “you’re not the one” which of course i was thinking and was afraid was about to happen to me. “uh, oh,… sorry. i keep forgetting you know what’s on my mind. couldn’t help it. it’s a knee-jerk reaction….” and i’m getting more and more unhinged. they would be further reading my mind as my thoughts raced….. thinking, “i never saw a real one of you guys like this and i would be going on about should lizards be clothed as opposed to being like in that gieco commercial, and how does it work out there on mars and are you gonna rip my back open and burrow through me,” on and on; the racing thoughts and my nervousness about to make my brain explode when she waved her hand slowly and everything on my mind ceased to be there. “ok, she said…now let’s take a deep breath.” which i did, and she began;
“point one; you’re not special and you’re not the lunch and suit special, something we’re not sure if we appreciate your calling what we do as; however, you are lucky. you initiated all this. remember? and, we don’t come here to meet you. you come here to meet us. you think that every time you show up here, we’re here. ever think that we’re here all the time?”
“uh, that never entered my mind” i said, sheepishly.
“we know. and here’s something else – all that about the eighth-plasma-ocean of the ninth-dimension? you think you made that up, but you didn’t.”
“i didn’t?”
“nope. you didn’t.”
“gee”
she turned to her associate, the eduardo cianelli-sounding guy, who spoke. “i put that eighth-plasma-ocean poppycock in your head when i first met you. and by the way – eight down, one to go,” he said.
i was calm but ashen. i felt really let-down.
“did you…?”
no. that was your idea.
“garbage” i said.
“nine down, none to go,” we said in unison. i laughed. he seemed to smile.
“i guess you have an appointment to keep” i said nudging my head in the direction of the lizard in the back seat next to that son-of-madoff lizard.
“oh, yes. yes indeed,” he said.
they drove off in the direction where i had seen that guy last week when he was walking the dunes with his valise.
i chose not to think about the eighth-plasma-ocean of the ninth-dimension, which means that i did think about the eighth-plasma-ocean of the ninth-dimension.
i heard the car beep wildly down the road and knew it was for me. maxx barked. we went to the car, loaded up and headed for home.

About stephen trimboli

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