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I was totally exhausted as I entered my apartment... But I noticed my cat had passed in front of me exactly twice in the same exact positions. Almost as if the scene was rewinded. I glanced at the mirror and realised I looked like Keanu Reeves and everything around me was shades of green. The green soon turned into a red and orange swirl all around me. Was this really happening, or was it all a dream?

Then It hit me. Keanu Reeves? Why couldn't I be someone with acting talent? It was a poignent moment; cats ... colors ... Keanu Reeves !?!?! ... and I vowed never to drop L.S.D. before performing brain surgery ever again . Oh sure , it's fun, and it helps me focus, but Hell, it's so draining as the effects just go on long after I need them ... and my buddy said it's probably not in my patients' best interests ,either.

So, back to the plot. Having dismissed the possibility of a wooden acting career and not having any acid in the apartment, what to do tonight?.....I know, I'll call my old mate and slightly endowed pulling partner Willie Fillum and go weaving in some bars. Never know, some lucky lady could be making my breakfast tomorrow.

So I picked up the phone to call Willie. It rang out five times before Willie in a panting voice said "hello"

I said "Willie, are you ready to rumble?" Willie gathered himself up and replied, "let's give it a tumble. I'll meet ya down near the delta in five minutess. I'm workin' here if ya know wud I mean" Willie is a Russian immigrant who taught himself English by watching boot-leg Brando movies in the '70's and thinks it's cool to feign his speech and mannerisms, but a heavily Slavic-accented ' Brando' often draws disbelieving stares. A good enough guy, though -- saved me after a nasty run-in with some Jehovah's Witnesses who had me in a death grip after one-too-many refusals of entry to my apartment, so I figured I owed him. You know, look out for him in these mean streets.

Willie was really the least of my worries. I had to concentrate on finding just the right gal in that bar. No smoker. Not too much perfume. Not too much make-up. You know, a natural girl. As I entered I noticed one who stood out like a sore thumb. She was all dressed in black and blue. She seemed to throb to the music on the jukebox. I decided to approach her.

The bar was dim...a slow number was playing and the girl was swaying slightly to the music yet trying not to be too conspicuous, no, conspicuos...er, conspicous...conspicious...koff, koff... noticeable. I sidled up next to her and looked deep into her eyes... the blue one as well as the black one. "Good Lord.. you're ... a... freak !" I growled as we joined in a tango and cleared the danced floor. " Can you tolerate me ? ", she whimpered as we spun in another deadly Bolivian twirl, "You'll do ....for now ." I barked , as we finished the dance and then headed to the bar for drinks.

Joachim was a one-eyed bi-sexual midget, not to be trusted, quick with a knife or sandal, but ran a clean bar. " Two milks... straight." I muttered, and Joachaim swiftly did his bit. He didn't want trouble, but damn it ....trouble always found him.

All of a sudden I felt something grab my shoulder. I slowly turned around. From the floor up, I saw a pair of black cowboy boots, size 12 I think, and continued looking up and up, and then BAM! It was at that moment, between consciousness and oblivion , that I realized that I had once again failed to file my tax return, and under the new administration, they weren't taking 'I forgot' as an excuse anymore.

After that moment of thought, I realized this dude was scarier than your common IRS guy, this dude was meaner than a junkyard dog. I was now flat on my back, and I thought I could hear Leo Sayer singing, "you make me feel like dancing" in the background.

Question was, how did the IRS Terminator find me here? I realised then that I stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the other drinkers, lechers and spouse-dodgers. It was the tight, ruddy-purple complexion and the large nail stuck to the back of my head that did it..... Joachim shouted 'there's nothing to see here folks' and little Leo crooned, as I was dragged out of the bar by my slingbacks and tights yelling 'If Willie Fillum comes in, tell him I'm downtown...and bring my accountant'

Just then who should appear but Willie himself. He slapped himself against that IRS guy so hard that he never knew what hit him. As the IRS guy slinked down to the pavement Willie spit right in his eye. Ahhhh, dear Willie. I should have known he'd come thru for me. He always has. Well, except for that one time at the Songfacts Christmas Party...but that's a story for another day. I was so relieved that I grabbed Willie and shook him vigorously. He always liked that. I always try to keep Willie happy. If you've got a good Willie you've got to stroke his ego often.

"Willie my man, you did it again", I said as Willie straightened up. We high fived each other and strolled cockily back into the bar.

Willie decided he wanted to play some pool, so he headed on over to the table. I noticed the girl with one blue eye and one black eye was trying to hit on Willie. Now Willie is a cool dude and all, but sometimes he doesn't have a whole lot of common sense.

The multi-coloured-eyed girl leant seductively over the pool table causing Willie to straighten, fluff his stroke and cannon the white through the air and into the lap of the biggest, hairy-ars*d biker you ever saw. Suddenly aware of his predicament, Willie shrank leaving me to sort out the mess.

All of a sudden I just started singing...give me three steps, give me three steps mister, and you'll never see me no more.....A big smile appeared on the dude's face and he pointed at me and said "Dude, I love that song"....saw Skynyrd in concert years ago, man, they rawwwked". We shot the breeze for awhile, strolled over to the bar to grab another beer.

As we chewed the fat I saw from the corner of my a blonde chic sitting at the end of the bar pasting stamps into an album. She was an earthy looking girl with glasses. When the bartender asked what she wanted to drink she kind of snorted a laugh and said "make mine a tonic, grenadine and ginger with a twist of papaya and one of those nice umbrellas." "Oh man", I thought to myself. "I know that girl." I excused myself and headed over to her.

"Hi Babe, Haven't we met before? What's your sign?" I grinned.

She looked up at me, her doe-brown eyes framed by thick black lashes were as deep as mysterious pools, the smile that complimented them weakened my knees and quickened my pulse. She looked even better than my imagination had allowed for. She sighed "took you long enough to find me, honey. I've been sitting, watching and waiting for you..." at this point, she motioned towards the empty chair opposite her. "Truth or dare?" she giggled, and as I sat myself down, the hairs on the back of my neck electrified against my collar. This girl definitely had a wild streak, I would never have expected that from a stamp collector, but it was a deadly combination I was eager to shake up...

"Go on then, dare!"

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I was totally exhausted as I entered my apartment... But I noticed my cat had passed in front of me exactly twice in the same exact positions. Almost as if the scene was rewinded. I glanced at the mirror and realised I looked like Keanu Reeves and everything around me was shades of green. The green soon turned into a red and orange swirl all around me. Was this really happening, or was it all a dream?

Then It hit me. Keanu Reeves? Why couldn't I be someone with acting talent? It was a poignent moment; cats ... colors ... Keanu Reeves !?!?! ... and I vowed never to drop L.S.D. before performing brain surgery ever again . Oh sure , it's fun, and it helps me focus, but Hell, it's so draining as the effects just go on long after I need them ... and my buddy said it's probably not in my patients' best interests ,either.

So, back to the plot. Having dismissed the possibility of a wooden acting career and not having any acid in the apartment, what to do tonight?.....I know, I'll call my old mate and slightly endowed pulling partner Willie Fillum and go weaving in some bars. Never know, some lucky lady could be making my breakfast tomorrow.

So I picked up the phone to call Willie. It rang out five times before Willie in a panting voice said "hello"

I said "Willie, are you ready to rumble?" Willie gathered himself up and replied, "let's give it a tumble. I'll meet ya down near the delta in five minutess. I'm workin' here if ya know wud I mean" Willie is a Russian immigrant who taught himself English by watching boot-leg Brando movies in the '70's and thinks it's cool to feign his speech and mannerisms, but a heavily Slavic-accented ' Brando' often draws disbelieving stares. A good enough guy, though -- saved me after a nasty run-in with some Jehovah's Witnesses who had me in a death grip after one-too-many refusals of entry to my apartment, so I figured I owed him. You know, look out for him in these mean streets.

Willie was really the least of my worries. I had to concentrate on finding just the right gal in that bar. No smoker. Not too much perfume. Not too much make-up. You know, a natural girl. As I entered I noticed one who stood out like a sore thumb. She was all dressed in black and blue. She seemed to throb to the music on the jukebox. I decided to approach her.

The bar was dim...a slow number was playing and the girl was swaying slightly to the music yet trying not to be too conspicuous, no, conspicuos...er, conspicous...conspicious...koff, koff... noticeable. I sidled up next to her and looked deep into her eyes... the blue one as well as the black one. "Good Lord.. you're ... a... freak !" I growled as we joined in a tango and cleared the danced floor. " Can you tolerate me ? ", she whimpered as we spun in another deadly Bolivian twirl, "You'll do ....for now ." I barked , as we finished the dance and then headed to the bar for drinks.

Joachim was a one-eyed bi-sexual midget, not to be trusted, quick with a knife or sandal, but ran a clean bar. " Two milks... straight." I muttered, and Joachaim swiftly did his bit. He didn't want trouble, but damn it ....trouble always found him.

All of a sudden I felt something grab my shoulder. I slowly turned around. From the floor up, I saw a pair of black cowboy boots, size 12 I think, and continued looking up and up, and then BAM! It was at that moment, between consciousness and oblivion , that I realized that I had once again failed to file my tax return, and under the new administration, they weren't taking 'I forgot' as an excuse anymore.

After that moment of thought, I realized this dude was scarier than your common IRS guy, this dude was meaner than a junkyard dog. I was now flat on my back, and I thought I could hear Leo Sayer singing, "you make me feel like dancing" in the background.

Question was, how did the IRS Terminator find me here? I realised then that I stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the other drinkers, lechers and spouse-dodgers. It was the tight, ruddy-purple complexion and the large nail stuck to the back of my head that did it..... Joachim shouted 'there's nothing to see here folks' and little Leo crooned, as I was dragged out of the bar by my slingbacks and tights yelling 'If Willie Fillum comes in, tell him I'm downtown...and bring my accountant'

Just then who should appear but Willie himself. He slapped himself against that IRS guy so hard that he never knew what hit him. As the IRS guy slinked down to the pavement Willie spit right in his eye. Ahhhh, dear Willie. I should have known he'd come thru for me. He always has. Well, except for that one time at the Songfacts Christmas Party...but that's a story for another day. I was so relieved that I grabbed Willie and shook him vigorously. He always liked that. I always try to keep Willie happy. If you've got a good Willie you've got to stroke his ego often.

"Willie my man, you did it again", I said as Willie straightened up. We high fived each other and strolled cockily back into the bar.

Willie decided he wanted to play some pool, so he headed on over to the table. I noticed the girl with one blue eye and one black eye was trying to hit on Willie. Now Willie is a cool dude and all, but sometimes he doesn't have a whole lot of common sense.

The multi-coloured-eyed girl leant seductively over the pool table causing Willie to straighten, fluff his stroke and cannon the white through the air and into the lap of the biggest, hairy-ars*d biker you ever saw. Suddenly aware of his predicament, Willie shrank leaving me to sort out the mess.

All of a sudden I just started singing...give me three steps, give me three steps mister, and you'll never see me no more.....A big smile appeared on the dude's face and he pointed at me and said "Dude, I love that song"....saw Skynyrd in concert years ago, man, they rawwwked". We shot the breeze for awhile, strolled over to the bar to grab another beer.

As we chewed the fat I saw from the corner of my a blonde chic sitting at the end of the bar pasting stamps into an album. She was an earthy looking girl with glasses. When the bartender asked what she wanted to drink she kind of snorted a laugh and said "make mine a tonic, grenadine and ginger with a twist of papaya and one of those nice umbrellas." "Oh man", I thought to myself. "I know that girl." I excused myself and headed over to her.

"Hi Babe, Haven't we met before? What's your sign?" I grinned.

She looked up at me, her doe-brown eyes framed by thick black lashes were as deep as mysterious pools, the smile that complimented them weakened my knees and quickened my pulse. She looked even better than my imagination had allowed for. She sighed "took you long enough to find me, honey. I've been sitting, watching and waiting for you..." at this point, she motioned towards the empty chair opposite her. "Truth or dare?" she giggled, and as I sat myself down, the hairs on the back of my neck electrified against my collar. This girl definitely had a wild streak, I would never have expected that from a stamp collector, but it was a deadly combination I was eager to shake up...

"Go on then, dare!"

She whipped those glasses right off her face and let down her hair and then said "lick it".....I raised an eyebrow and cleared my throat and asked "lick it?"...then i realized she was talking about a stamp she had placed in a very interesting place...

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I was totally exhausted as I entered my apartment... But I noticed my cat had passed in front of me exactly twice in the same exact positions. Almost as if the scene was rewinded. I glanced at the mirror and realised I looked like Keanu Reeves and everything around me was shades of green. The green soon turned into a red and orange swirl all around me. Was this really happening, or was it all a dream?

Then It hit me. Keanu Reeves? Why couldn't I be someone with acting talent? It was a poignent moment; cats ... colors ... Keanu Reeves !?!?! ... and I vowed never to drop L.S.D. before performing brain surgery ever again . Oh sure , it's fun, and it helps me focus, but Hell, it's so draining as the effects just go on long after I need them ... and my buddy said it's probably not in my patients' best interests ,either.

So, back to the plot. Having dismissed the possibility of a wooden acting career and not having any acid in the apartment, what to do tonight?.....I know, I'll call my old mate and slightly endowed pulling partner Willie Fillum and go weaving in some bars. Never know, some lucky lady could be making my breakfast tomorrow.

So I picked up the phone to call Willie. It rang out five times before Willie in a panting voice said "hello"

I said "Willie, are you ready to rumble?" Willie gathered himself up and replied, "let's give it a tumble. I'll meet ya down near the delta in five minutess. I'm workin' here if ya know wud I mean" Willie is a Russian immigrant who taught himself English by watching boot-leg Brando movies in the '70's and thinks it's cool to feign his speech and mannerisms, but a heavily Slavic-accented ' Brando' often draws disbelieving stares. A good enough guy, though -- saved me after a nasty run-in with some Jehovah's Witnesses who had me in a death grip after one-too-many refusals of entry to my apartment, so I figured I owed him. You know, look out for him in these mean streets.

Willie was really the least of my worries. I had to concentrate on finding just the right gal in that bar. No smoker. Not too much perfume. Not too much make-up. You know, a natural girl. As I entered I noticed one who stood out like a sore thumb. She was all dressed in black and blue. She seemed to throb to the music on the jukebox. I decided to approach her.

The bar was dim...a slow number was playing and the girl was swaying slightly to the music yet trying not to be too conspicuous, no, conspicuos...er, conspicous...conspicious...koff, koff... noticeable. I sidled up next to her and looked deep into her eyes... the blue one as well as the black one. "Good Lord.. you're ... a... freak !" I growled as we joined in a tango and cleared the danced floor. " Can you tolerate me ? ", she whimpered as we spun in another deadly Bolivian twirl, "You'll do ....for now ." I barked , as we finished the dance and then headed to the bar for drinks.

Joachim was a one-eyed bi-sexual midget, not to be trusted, quick with a knife or sandal, but ran a clean bar. " Two milks... straight." I muttered, and Joachaim swiftly did his bit. He didn't want trouble, but damn it ....trouble always found him.

All of a sudden I felt something grab my shoulder. I slowly turned around. From the floor up, I saw a pair of black cowboy boots, size 12 I think, and continued looking up and up, and then BAM! It was at that moment, between consciousness and oblivion , that I realized that I had once again failed to file my tax return, and under the new administration, they weren't taking 'I forgot' as an excuse anymore.

After that moment of thought, I realized this dude was scarier than your common IRS guy, this dude was meaner than a junkyard dog. I was now flat on my back, and I thought I could hear Leo Sayer singing, "you make me feel like dancing" in the background.

Question was, how did the IRS Terminator find me here? I realised then that I stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the other drinkers, lechers and spouse-dodgers. It was the tight, ruddy-purple complexion and the large nail stuck to the back of my head that did it..... Joachim shouted 'there's nothing to see here folks' and little Leo crooned, as I was dragged out of the bar by my slingbacks and tights yelling 'If Willie Fillum comes in, tell him I'm downtown...and bring my accountant'

Just then who should appear but Willie himself. He slapped himself against that IRS guy so hard that he never knew what hit him. As the IRS guy slinked down to the pavement Willie spit right in his eye. Ahhhh, dear Willie. I should have known he'd come thru for me. He always has. Well, except for that one time at the Songfacts Christmas Party...but that's a story for another day. I was so relieved that I grabbed Willie and shook him vigorously. He always liked that. I always try to keep Willie happy. If you've got a good Willie you've got to stroke his ego often.

"Willie my man, you did it again", I said as Willie straightened up. We high fived each other and strolled cockily back into the bar.

Willie decided he wanted to play some pool, so he headed on over to the table. I noticed the girl with one blue eye and one black eye was trying to hit on Willie. Now Willie is a cool dude and all, but sometimes he doesn't have a whole lot of common sense.

The multi-coloured-eyed girl leant seductively over the pool table causing Willie to straighten, fluff his stroke and cannon the white through the air and into the lap of the biggest, hairy-ars*d biker you ever saw. Suddenly aware of his predicament, Willie shrank leaving me to sort out the mess.

All of a sudden I just started singing...give me three steps, give me three steps mister, and you'll never see me no more.....A big smile appeared on the dude's face and he pointed at me and said "Dude, I love that song"....saw Skynyrd in concert years ago, man, they rawwwked". We shot the breeze for awhile, strolled over to the bar to grab another beer.

As we chewed the fat I saw from the corner of my a blonde chic sitting at the end of the bar pasting stamps into an album. She was an earthy looking girl with glasses. When the bartender asked what she wanted to drink she kind of snorted a laugh and said "make mine a tonic, grenadine and ginger with a twist of papaya and one of those nice umbrellas." "Oh man", I thought to myself. "I know that girl." I excused myself and headed over to her.

"Hi Babe, Haven't we met before? What's your sign?" I grinned.

She looked up at me, her doe-brown eyes framed by thick black lashes were as deep as mysterious pools, the smile that complimented them weakened my knees and quickened my pulse. She looked even better than my imagination had allowed for. She sighed "took you long enough to find me, honey. I've been sitting, watching and waiting for you..." at this point, she motioned towards the empty chair opposite her. "Truth or dare?" she giggled, and as I sat myself down, the hairs on the back of my neck electrified against my collar. This girl definitely had a wild streak, I would never have expected that from a stamp collector, but it was a deadly combination I was eager to shake up...

"Go on then, dare!"

She whipped those glasses right off her face and let down her hair and then said "lick it".....I raised an eyebrow and cleared my throat and asked "lick it?"...then i realized she was talking about a stamp she had placed in a very interesting place...

"So .... You 're into stamps , eh ? ", I said , realizing that this would likely sweep her off her feet immediately . Live hard and die young is my motto.

"Huh ?... ?" , she replied but with that "Take me ! I'm your's !" , sort of way ... sort of .

"Voulez vous couche avec mois, c'est soir ?", I murmured. This being the French Quarter, somehow it had actually come into fashion that one HAD to speak French to score ... or hit the highway. "Whaaa ?", she replied . "Say, have you got a Elvis memorial stamp circa '95 ... and ... what's with the nail stickin' outta you're head ?

Now I respect women ... infact, I love them more than any man on the planet , but this dame had gone to far ! NOBODY , and I repeat, NOBODY mentions that nail .... just ain't done . I mean , you're likely ugly too, but I was raised with manners ... so I hopped up , and with an instantaneous Ninja finger poke that went through those ear drums, pierced her brain (correcting that philatial defect in the left side ), returned to my seat in the blink of an eye and set her straight . "Gotta, go babe ." , I said. I 'm like that. helping my fellow (wo) man and moving on...

Willie returned and said that Joachim had been pouring shots of whiskey -- one for them one for him --- and that we 'd better split. I liked Joachim , but when he was on the juice, liked to play 'ankle-biting vampire' with his regulars, so I thought it was high time to split.

We reached Willie's ride, a '45 Mercedes. "Bormann's car. " , he liked to claim , often pointing to some residue in the back which he always boasted was dried grey matter ... though it looked suspiciously like mildew....

"We gotta case. ", he growled, "Get in, I'll tell you about it on the way ."

"Damn ! ", I grumbled , " a housecall or detective work ? " "You'll see." , he smiled ,maniacally , as he he put 'er in gear and burned rubber out of that cesspool.

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I was totally exhausted as I entered my apartment... But I noticed my cat had passed in front of me exactly twice in the same exact positions. Almost as if the scene was rewinded. I glanced at the mirror and realised I looked like Keanu Reeves and everything around me was shades of green. The green soon turned into a red and orange swirl all around me. Was this really happening, or was it all a dream?

Then It hit me. Keanu Reeves? Why couldn't I be someone with acting talent? It was a poignent moment; cats ... colors ... Keanu Reeves !?!?! ... and I vowed never to drop L.S.D. before performing brain surgery ever again . Oh sure , it's fun, and it helps me focus, but Hell, it's so draining as the effects just go on long after I need them ... and my buddy said it's probably not in my patients' best interests ,either.

So, back to the plot. Having dismissed the possibility of a wooden acting career and not having any acid in the apartment, what to do tonight?.....I know, I'll call my old mate and slightly endowed pulling partner Willie Fillum and go weaving in some bars. Never know, some lucky lady could be making my breakfast tomorrow.

So I picked up the phone to call Willie. It rang out five times before Willie in a panting voice said "hello"

I said "Willie, are you ready to rumble?" Willie gathered himself up and replied, "let's give it a tumble. I'll meet ya down near the delta in five minutess. I'm workin' here if ya know wud I mean" Willie is a Russian immigrant who taught himself English by watching boot-leg Brando movies in the '70's and thinks it's cool to feign his speech and mannerisms, but a heavily Slavic-accented ' Brando' often draws disbelieving stares. A good enough guy, though -- saved me after a nasty run-in with some Jehovah's Witnesses who had me in a death grip after one-too-many refusals of entry to my apartment, so I figured I owed him. You know, look out for him in these mean streets.

Willie was really the least of my worries. I had to concentrate on finding just the right gal in that bar. No smoker. Not too much perfume. Not too much make-up. You know, a natural girl. As I entered I noticed one who stood out like a sore thumb. She was all dressed in black and blue. She seemed to throb to the music on the jukebox. I decided to approach her.

The bar was dim...a slow number was playing and the girl was swaying slightly to the music yet trying not to be too conspicuous, no, conspicuos...er, conspicous...conspicious...koff, koff... noticeable. I sidled up next to her and looked deep into her eyes... the blue one as well as the black one. "Good Lord.. you're ... a... freak !" I growled as we joined in a tango and cleared the danced floor. " Can you tolerate me ? ", she whimpered as we spun in another deadly Bolivian twirl, "You'll do ....for now ." I barked , as we finished the dance and then headed to the bar for drinks.

Joachim was a one-eyed bi-sexual midget, not to be trusted, quick with a knife or sandal, but ran a clean bar. " Two milks... straight." I muttered, and Joachaim swiftly did his bit. He didn't want trouble, but damn it ....trouble always found him.

All of a sudden I felt something grab my shoulder. I slowly turned around. From the floor up, I saw a pair of black cowboy boots, size 12 I think, and continued looking up and up, and then BAM! It was at that moment, between consciousness and oblivion , that I realized that I had once again failed to file my tax return, and under the new administration, they weren't taking 'I forgot' as an excuse anymore.

After that moment of thought, I realized this dude was scarier than your common IRS guy, this dude was meaner than a junkyard dog. I was now flat on my back, and I thought I could hear Leo Sayer singing, "you make me feel like dancing" in the background.

Question was, how did the IRS Terminator find me here? I realised then that I stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the other drinkers, lechers and spouse-dodgers. It was the tight, ruddy-purple complexion and the large nail stuck to the back of my head that did it..... Joachim shouted 'there's nothing to see here folks' and little Leo crooned, as I was dragged out of the bar by my slingbacks and tights yelling 'If Willie Fillum comes in, tell him I'm downtown...and bring my accountant'

Just then who should appear but Willie himself. He slapped himself against that IRS guy so hard that he never knew what hit him. As the IRS guy slinked down to the pavement Willie spit right in his eye. Ahhhh, dear Willie. I should have known he'd come thru for me. He always has. Well, except for that one time at the Songfacts Christmas Party...but that's a story for another day. I was so relieved that I grabbed Willie and shook him vigorously. He always liked that. I always try to keep Willie happy. If you've got a good Willie you've got to stroke his ego often.

"Willie my man, you did it again", I said as Willie straightened up. We high fived each other and strolled cockily back into the bar.

Willie decided he wanted to play some pool, so he headed on over to the table. I noticed the girl with one blue eye and one black eye was trying to hit on Willie. Now Willie is a cool dude and all, but sometimes he doesn't have a whole lot of common sense.

The multi-coloured-eyed girl leant seductively over the pool table causing Willie to straighten, fluff his stroke and cannon the white through the air and into the lap of the biggest, hairy-ars*d biker you ever saw. Suddenly aware of his predicament, Willie shrank leaving me to sort out the mess.

All of a sudden I just started singing...give me three steps, give me three steps mister, and you'll never see me no more.....A big smile appeared on the dude's face and he pointed at me and said "Dude, I love that song"....saw Skynyrd in concert years ago, man, they rawwwked". We shot the breeze for awhile, strolled over to the bar to grab another beer.

As we chewed the fat I saw from the corner of my a blonde chic sitting at the end of the bar pasting stamps into an album. She was an earthy looking girl with glasses. When the bartender asked what she wanted to drink she kind of snorted a laugh and said "make mine a tonic, grenadine and ginger with a twist of papaya and one of those nice umbrellas." "Oh man", I thought to myself. "I know that girl." I excused myself and headed over to her.

"Hi Babe, Haven't we met before? What's your sign?" I grinned.

She looked up at me, her doe-brown eyes framed by thick black lashes were as deep as mysterious pools, the smile that complimented them weakened my knees and quickened my pulse. She looked even better than my imagination had allowed for. She sighed "took you long enough to find me, honey. I've been sitting, watching and waiting for you..." at this point, she motioned towards the empty chair opposite her. "Truth or dare?" she giggled, and as I sat myself down, the hairs on the back of my neck electrified against my collar. This girl definitely had a wild streak, I would never have expected that from a stamp collector, but it was a deadly combination I was eager to shake up...

"Go on then, dare!"

She whipped those glasses right off her face and let down her hair and then said "lick it".....I raised an eyebrow and cleared my throat and asked "lick it?"...then i realized she was talking about a stamp she had placed in a very interesting place...

"So .... You 're into stamps , eh ? ", I said , realizing that this would likely sweep her off her feet immediately . Live hard and die young is my motto.

"Huh ?... ?" , she replied but with that "Take me ! I'm your's !" , sort of way ... sort of .

"Voulez vous couche avec mois, c'est soir ?", I murmured. This being the French Quarter, somehow it had actually come into fashion that one HAD to speak French to score ... or hit the highway. "Whaaa ?", she replied . "Say, have you got a Elvis memorial stamp circa '95 ... and ... what's with the nail stickin' outta you're head ?

Now I respect women ... infact, I love them more than any man on the planet , but this dame had gone to far ! NOBODY , and I repeat, NOBODY mentions that nail .... just ain't done . I mean , you're likely ugly too, but I was raised with manners ... so I hopped up , and with an instantaneous Ninja finger poke that went through those ear drums, pierced her brain (correcting that philatial defect in the left side ), returned to my seat in the blink of an eye and set her straight . "Gotta, go babe ." , I said. I 'm like that. helping my fellow (wo) man and moving on...

Willie returned and said that Joachim had been pouring shots of whiskey -- one for them one for him --- and that we 'd better split. I liked Joachim , but when he was on the juice, liked to play 'ankle-biting vampire' with his regulars, so I thought it was high time to split.

We reached Willie's ride, a '45 Mercedes. "Bormann's car. " , he liked to claim , often pointing to some residue in the back which he always boasted was dried grey matter ... though it looked suspiciously like mildew....

"We gotta case. ", he growled, "Get in, I'll tell you about it on the way ."

"Damn ! ", I grumbled , " a housecall or detective work ? " "You'll see." , he smiled ,maniacally , as he he put 'er in gear and burned rubber out of that cesspool.

As we cruised on out of the parking lot, I thought I would pop in a cd to listen to untill we reached our next adventure. Now I know Willie is quite the character to say the least, but when I opened up that cd case, I couldnt believe my eyes! Nothing but Boy Bands , barbershop , and experimental polka music . I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and shot Willie a look of disbelief and contempt , however, he just flashed a smile and chuckled in that carefree way he always had whenever I learned a a new , and unbelievable fact about my pal. "Relaxes me .", he offered , " Slap one in, if ya like ! "

I reluctantly pulled out a Backstreet Boys album. Willie looked at me and noded approvingly. 'good choice, my friend." I squeezed my eyes shut and slid it into the CD player scarcely believing what I was doing. A tinkly sound filled the interior of the car. Willie gave a sudden start. "So THAT'S where my Yanni album got to! Thanks man! I've been looking for it for ages!" He started bobbing his head the best he could in time to the...whatever the noise was. His eyes were closed. As a result, I saw the 18 wheeler bearing down on us before he did.

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I was totally exhausted as I entered my apartment... But I noticed my cat had passed in front of me exactly twice in the same exact positions. Almost as if the scene was rewinded. I glanced at the mirror and realised I looked like Keanu Reeves and everything around me was shades of green. The green soon turned into a red and orange swirl all around me. Was this really happening, or was it all a dream?

Then It hit me. Keanu Reeves? Why couldn't I be someone with acting talent? It was a poignent moment; cats ... colors ... Keanu Reeves !?!?! ... and I vowed never to drop L.S.D. before performing brain surgery ever again . Oh sure , it's fun, and it helps me focus, but Hell, it's so draining as the effects just go on long after I need them ... and my buddy said it's probably not in my patients' best interests ,either.

So, back to the plot. Having dismissed the possibility of a wooden acting career and not having any acid in the apartment, what to do tonight?.....I know, I'll call my old mate and slightly endowed pulling partner Willie Fillum and go weaving in some bars. Never know, some lucky lady could be making my breakfast tomorrow.

So I picked up the phone to call Willie. It rang out five times before Willie in a panting voice said "hello"

I said "Willie, are you ready to rumble?" Willie gathered himself up and replied, "let's give it a tumble. I'll meet ya down near the delta in five minutess. I'm workin' here if ya know wud I mean" Willie is a Russian immigrant who taught himself English by watching boot-leg Brando movies in the '70's and thinks it's cool to feign his speech and mannerisms, but a heavily Slavic-accented ' Brando' often draws disbelieving stares. A good enough guy, though -- saved me after a nasty run-in with some Jehovah's Witnesses who had me in a death grip after one-too-many refusals of entry to my apartment, so I figured I owed him. You know, look out for him in these mean streets.

Willie was really the least of my worries. I had to concentrate on finding just the right gal in that bar. No smoker. Not too much perfume. Not too much make-up. You know, a natural girl. As I entered I noticed one who stood out like a sore thumb. She was all dressed in black and blue. She seemed to throb to the music on the jukebox. I decided to approach her.

The bar was dim...a slow number was playing and the girl was swaying slightly to the music yet trying not to be too conspicuous, no, conspicuos...er, conspicous...conspicious...koff, koff... noticeable. I sidled up next to her and looked deep into her eyes... the blue one as well as the black one. "Good Lord.. you're ... a... freak !" I growled as we joined in a tango and cleared the danced floor. " Can you tolerate me ? ", she whimpered as we spun in another deadly Bolivian twirl, "You'll do ....for now ." I barked , as we finished the dance and then headed to the bar for drinks.

Joachim was a one-eyed bi-sexual midget, not to be trusted, quick with a knife or sandal, but ran a clean bar. " Two milks... straight." I muttered, and Joachaim swiftly did his bit. He didn't want trouble, but damn it ....trouble always found him.

All of a sudden I felt something grab my shoulder. I slowly turned around. From the floor up, I saw a pair of black cowboy boots, size 12 I think, and continued looking up and up, and then BAM! It was at that moment, between consciousness and oblivion , that I realized that I had once again failed to file my tax return, and under the new administration, they weren't taking 'I forgot' as an excuse anymore.

After that moment of thought, I realized this dude was scarier than your common IRS guy, this dude was meaner than a junkyard dog. I was now flat on my back, and I thought I could hear Leo Sayer singing, "you make me feel like dancing" in the background.

Question was, how did the IRS Terminator find me here? I realised then that I stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the other drinkers, lechers and spouse-dodgers. It was the tight, ruddy-purple complexion and the large nail stuck to the back of my head that did it..... Joachim shouted 'there's nothing to see here folks' and little Leo crooned, as I was dragged out of the bar by my slingbacks and tights yelling 'If Willie Fillum comes in, tell him I'm downtown...and bring my accountant'

Just then who should appear but Willie himself. He slapped himself against that IRS guy so hard that he never knew what hit him. As the IRS guy slinked down to the pavement Willie spit right in his eye. Ahhhh, dear Willie. I should have known he'd come thru for me. He always has. Well, except for that one time at the Songfacts Christmas Party...but that's a story for another day. I was so relieved that I grabbed Willie and shook him vigorously. He always liked that. I always try to keep Willie happy. If you've got a good Willie you've got to stroke his ego often.

"Willie my man, you did it again", I said as Willie straightened up. We high fived each other and strolled cockily back into the bar.

Willie decided he wanted to play some pool, so he headed on over to the table. I noticed the girl with one blue eye and one black eye was trying to hit on Willie. Now Willie is a cool dude and all, but sometimes he doesn't have a whole lot of common sense.

The multi-coloured-eyed girl leant seductively over the pool table causing Willie to straighten, fluff his stroke and cannon the white through the air and into the lap of the biggest, hairy-ars*d biker you ever saw. Suddenly aware of his predicament, Willie shrank leaving me to sort out the mess.

All of a sudden I just started singing...give me three steps, give me three steps mister, and you'll never see me no more.....A big smile appeared on the dude's face and he pointed at me and said "Dude, I love that song"....saw Skynyrd in concert years ago, man, they rawwwked". We shot the breeze for awhile, strolled over to the bar to grab another beer.

As we chewed the fat I saw from the corner of my a blonde chic sitting at the end of the bar pasting stamps into an album. She was an earthy looking girl with glasses. When the bartender asked what she wanted to drink she kind of snorted a laugh and said "make mine a tonic, grenadine and ginger with a twist of papaya and one of those nice umbrellas." "Oh man", I thought to myself. "I know that girl." I excused myself and headed over to her.

"Hi Babe, Haven't we met before? What's your sign?" I grinned.

She looked up at me, her doe-brown eyes framed by thick black lashes were as deep as mysterious pools, the smile that complimented them weakened my knees and quickened my pulse. She looked even better than my imagination had allowed for. She sighed "took you long enough to find me, honey. I've been sitting, watching and waiting for you..." at this point, she motioned towards the empty chair opposite her. "Truth or dare?" she giggled, and as I sat myself down, the hairs on the back of my neck electrified against my collar. This girl definitely had a wild streak, I would never have expected that from a stamp collector, but it was a deadly combination I was eager to shake up...

"Go on then, dare!"

She whipped those glasses right off her face and let down her hair and then said "lick it".....I raised an eyebrow and cleared my throat and asked "lick it?"...then i realized she was talking about a stamp she had placed in a very interesting place...

"So .... You 're into stamps , eh ? ", I said , realizing that this would likely sweep her off her feet immediately . Live hard and die young is my motto.

"Huh ?... ?" , she replied but with that "Take me ! I'm your's !" , sort of way ... sort of .

"Voulez vous couche avec mois, c'est soir ?", I murmured. This being the French Quarter, somehow it had actually come into fashion that one HAD to speak French to score ... or hit the highway. "Whaaa ?", she replied . "Say, have you got a Elvis memorial stamp circa '95 ... and ... what's with the nail stickin' outta you're head ?

Now I respect women ... infact, I love them more than any man on the planet , but this dame had gone to far ! NOBODY , and I repeat, NOBODY mentions that nail .... just ain't done . I mean , you're likely ugly too, but I was raised with manners ... so I hopped up , and with an instantaneous Ninja finger poke that went through those ear drums, pierced her brain (correcting that philatial defect in the left side ), returned to my seat in the blink of an eye and set her straight . "Gotta, go babe ." , I said. I 'm like that. helping my fellow (wo) man and moving on...

Willie returned and said that Joachim had been pouring shots of whiskey -- one for them one for him --- and that we 'd better split. I liked Joachim , but when he was on the juice, liked to play 'ankle-biting vampire' with his regulars, so I thought it was high time to split.

We reached Willie's ride, a '45 Mercedes. "Bormann's car. " , he liked to claim , often pointing to some residue in the back which he always boasted was dried grey matter ... though it looked suspiciously like mildew....

"We gotta case. ", he growled, "Get in, I'll tell you about it on the way ."

"Damn ! ", I grumbled , " a housecall or detective work ? " "You'll see." , he smiled ,maniacally , as he he put 'er in gear and burned rubber out of that cesspool.

As we cruised on out of the parking lot, I thought I would pop in a cd to listen to untill we reached our next adventure. Now I know Willie is quite the character to say the least, but when I opened up that cd case, I couldnt believe my eyes! Nothing but Boy Bands , barbershop , and experimental polka music . I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and shot Willie a look of disbelief and contempt , however, he just flashed a smile and chuckled in that carefree way he always had whenever I learned a a new , and unbelievable fact about my pal. "Relaxes me .", he offered , " Slap one in, if ya like ! "

I reluctantly pulled out a Backstreet Boys album. Willie looked at me and noded approvingly. 'good choice, my friend." I squeezed my eyes shut and slid it into the CD player scarcely believing what I was doing. A tinkly sound filled the interior of the car. Willie gave a sudden start. "So THAT'S where my Yanni album got to! Thanks man! I've been looking for it for ages!" He started bobbing his head the best he could in time to the...whatever the noise was. His eyes were closed. As a result, I saw the 18 wheeler bearing down on us before he did.

I frantically yelled "WILLIE!" hoping he would snap out of his Yanni trance, I grabbed the wheel and steered us right into an old oak tree, that did not move, I might add. We just sat there staring at the front of the car that was mangled around that tree. With the sound of the crash and Yanni still playing on the stereo, was not a good combo.

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I was totally exhausted as I entered my apartment... But I noticed my cat had passed in front of me exactly twice in the same exact positions. Almost as if the scene was rewinded. I glanced at the mirror and realised I looked like Keanu Reeves and everything around me was shades of green. The green soon turned into a red and orange swirl all around me. Was this really happening, or was it all a dream?

Then It hit me. Keanu Reeves? Why couldn't I be someone with acting talent? It was a poignent moment; cats ... colors ... Keanu Reeves !?!?! ... and I vowed never to drop L.S.D. before performing brain surgery ever again . Oh sure , it's fun, and it helps me focus, but Hell, it's so draining as the effects just go on long after I need them ... and my buddy said it's probably not in my patients' best interests ,either.

So, back to the plot. Having dismissed the possibility of a wooden acting career and not having any acid in the apartment, what to do tonight?.....I know, I'll call my old mate and slightly endowed pulling partner Willie Fillum and go weaving in some bars. Never know, some lucky lady could be making my breakfast tomorrow.

So I picked up the phone to call Willie. It rang out five times before Willie in a panting voice said "hello"

I said "Willie, are you ready to rumble?" Willie gathered himself up and replied, "let's give it a tumble. I'll meet ya down near the delta in five minutess. I'm workin' here if ya know wud I mean" Willie is a Russian immigrant who taught himself English by watching boot-leg Brando movies in the '70's and thinks it's cool to feign his speech and mannerisms, but a heavily Slavic-accented ' Brando' often draws disbelieving stares. A good enough guy, though -- saved me after a nasty run-in with some Jehovah's Witnesses who had me in a death grip after one-too-many refusals of entry to my apartment, so I figured I owed him. You know, look out for him in these mean streets.

Willie was really the least of my worries. I had to concentrate on finding just the right gal in that bar. No smoker. Not too much perfume. Not too much make-up. You know, a natural girl. As I entered I noticed one who stood out like a sore thumb. She was all dressed in black and blue. She seemed to throb to the music on the jukebox. I decided to approach her.

The bar was dim...a slow number was playing and the girl was swaying slightly to the music yet trying not to be too conspicuous, no, conspicuos...er, conspicous...conspicious...koff, koff... noticeable. I sidled up next to her and looked deep into her eyes... the blue one as well as the black one. "Good Lord.. you're ... a... freak !" I growled as we joined in a tango and cleared the danced floor. " Can you tolerate me ? ", she whimpered as we spun in another deadly Bolivian twirl, "You'll do ....for now ." I barked , as we finished the dance and then headed to the bar for drinks.

Joachim was a one-eyed bi-sexual midget, not to be trusted, quick with a knife or sandal, but ran a clean bar. " Two milks... straight." I muttered, and Joachaim swiftly did his bit. He didn't want trouble, but damn it ....trouble always found him.

All of a sudden I felt something grab my shoulder. I slowly turned around. From the floor up, I saw a pair of black cowboy boots, size 12 I think, and continued looking up and up, and then BAM! It was at that moment, between consciousness and oblivion , that I realized that I had once again failed to file my tax return, and under the new administration, they weren't taking 'I forgot' as an excuse anymore.

After that moment of thought, I realized this dude was scarier than your common IRS guy, this dude was meaner than a junkyard dog. I was now flat on my back, and I thought I could hear Leo Sayer singing, "you make me feel like dancing" in the background.

Question was, how did the IRS Terminator find me here? I realised then that I stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the other drinkers, lechers and spouse-dodgers. It was the tight, ruddy-purple complexion and the large nail stuck to the back of my head that did it..... Joachim shouted 'there's nothing to see here folks' and little Leo crooned, as I was dragged out of the bar by my slingbacks and tights yelling 'If Willie Fillum comes in, tell him I'm downtown...and bring my accountant'

Just then who should appear but Willie himself. He slapped himself against that IRS guy so hard that he never knew what hit him. As the IRS guy slinked down to the pavement Willie spit right in his eye. Ahhhh, dear Willie. I should have known he'd come thru for me. He always has. Well, except for that one time at the Songfacts Christmas Party...but that's a story for another day. I was so relieved that I grabbed Willie and shook him vigorously. He always liked that. I always try to keep Willie happy. If you've got a good Willie you've got to stroke his ego often.

"Willie my man, you did it again", I said as Willie straightened up. We high fived each other and strolled cockily back into the bar.

Willie decided he wanted to play some pool, so he headed on over to the table. I noticed the girl with one blue eye and one black eye was trying to hit on Willie. Now Willie is a cool dude and all, but sometimes he doesn't have a whole lot of common sense.

The multi-coloured-eyed girl leant seductively over the pool table causing Willie to straighten, fluff his stroke and cannon the white through the air and into the lap of the biggest, hairy-ars*d biker you ever saw. Suddenly aware of his predicament, Willie shrank leaving me to sort out the mess.

All of a sudden I just started singing...give me three steps, give me three steps mister, and you'll never see me no more.....A big smile appeared on the dude's face and he pointed at me and said "Dude, I love that song"....saw Skynyrd in concert years ago, man, they rawwwked". We shot the breeze for awhile, strolled over to the bar to grab another beer.

As we chewed the fat I saw from the corner of my a blonde chic sitting at the end of the bar pasting stamps into an album. She was an earthy looking girl with glasses. When the bartender asked what she wanted to drink she kind of snorted a laugh and said "make mine a tonic, grenadine and ginger with a twist of papaya and one of those nice umbrellas." "Oh man", I thought to myself. "I know that girl." I excused myself and headed over to her.

"Hi Babe, Haven't we met before? What's your sign?" I grinned.

She looked up at me, her doe-brown eyes framed by thick black lashes were as deep as mysterious pools, the smile that complimented them weakened my knees and quickened my pulse. She looked even better than my imagination had allowed for. She sighed "took you long enough to find me, honey. I've been sitting, watching and waiting for you..." at this point, she motioned towards the empty chair opposite her. "Truth or dare?" she giggled, and as I sat myself down, the hairs on the back of my neck electrified against my collar. This girl definitely had a wild streak, I would never have expected that from a stamp collector, but it was a deadly combination I was eager to shake up...

"Go on then, dare!"

She whipped those glasses right off her face and let down her hair and then said "lick it".....I raised an eyebrow and cleared my throat and asked "lick it?"...then i realized she was talking about a stamp she had placed in a very interesting place...

"So .... You 're into stamps , eh ? ", I said , realizing that this would likely sweep her off her feet immediately . Live hard and die young is my motto.

"Huh ?... ?" , she replied but with that "Take me ! I'm your's !" , sort of way ... sort of .

"Voulez vous couche avec mois, c'est soir ?", I murmured. This being the French Quarter, somehow it had actually come into fashion that one HAD to speak French to score ... or hit the highway. "Whaaa ?", she replied . "Say, have you got a Elvis memorial stamp circa '95 ... and ... what's with the nail stickin' outta you're head ?

Now I respect women ... infact, I love them more than any man on the planet , but this dame had gone to far ! NOBODY , and I repeat, NOBODY mentions that nail .... just ain't done . I mean , you're likely ugly too, but I was raised with manners ... so I hopped up , and with an instantaneous Ninja finger poke that went through those ear drums, pierced her brain (correcting that philatial defect in the left side ), returned to my seat in the blink of an eye and set her straight . "Gotta, go babe ." , I said. I 'm like that. helping my fellow (wo) man and moving on...

Willie returned and said that Joachim had been pouring shots of whiskey -- one for them one for him --- and that we 'd better split. I liked Joachim , but when he was on the juice, liked to play 'ankle-biting vampire' with his regulars, so I thought it was high time to split.

We reached Willie's ride, a '45 Mercedes. "Bormann's car. " , he liked to claim , often pointing to some residue in the back which he always boasted was dried grey matter ... though it looked suspiciously like mildew....

"We gotta case. ", he growled, "Get in, I'll tell you about it on the way ."

"Damn ! ", I grumbled , " a housecall or detective work ? " "You'll see." , he smiled ,maniacally , as he he put 'er in gear and burned rubber out of that cesspool.

As we cruised on out of the parking lot, I thought I would pop in a cd to listen to untill we reached our next adventure. Now I know Willie is quite the character to say the least, but when I opened up that cd case, I couldnt believe my eyes! Nothing but Boy Bands , barbershop , and experimental polka music . I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and shot Willie a look of disbelief and contempt , however, he just flashed a smile and chuckled in that carefree way he always had whenever I learned a a new , and unbelievable fact about my pal. "Relaxes me .", he offered , " Slap one in, if ya like ! "

I reluctantly pulled out a Backstreet Boys album. Willie looked at me and noded approvingly. 'good choice, my friend." I squeezed my eyes shut and slid it into the CD player scarcely believing what I was doing. A tinkly sound filled the interior of the car. Willie gave a sudden start. "So THAT'S where my Yanni album got to! Thanks man! I've been looking for it for ages!" He started bobbing his head the best he could in time to the...whatever the noise was. His eyes were closed. As a result, I saw the 18 wheeler bearing down on us before he did.

I frantically yelled "WILLIE!" hoping he would snap out of his Yanni trance, I grabbed the wheel and steered us right into an old oak tree, that did not move, I might add. We just sat there staring at the front of the car that was mangled around that tree. With the sound of the crash and Yanni still playing on the stereo, was not a good combo.

Nearly 4 years had passed since that horrendous incident, and we still hadn't budged from in front of the oak tree. Unfortunately Yanni was the only thing we had to listen to the whole time and we have both turned into stark-raving lunatics, while we enjoy howling at the moon around the turn of midnight each day.

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I was totally exhausted as I entered my apartment... But I noticed my cat had passed in front of me exactly twice in the same exact positions. Almost as if the scene was rewinded. I glanced at the mirror and realised I looked like Keanu Reeves and everything around me was shades of green. The green soon turned into a red and orange swirl all around me. Was this really happening, or was it all a dream?

Then It hit me. Keanu Reeves? Why couldn't I be someone with acting talent? It was a poignent moment; cats ... colors ... Keanu Reeves !?!?! ... and I vowed never to drop L.S.D. before performing brain surgery ever again . Oh sure , it's fun, and it helps me focus, but Hell, it's so draining as the effects just go on long after I need them ... and my buddy said it's probably not in my patients' best interests ,either.

So, back to the plot. Having dismissed the possibility of a wooden acting career and not having any acid in the apartment, what to do tonight?.....I know, I'll call my old mate and slightly endowed pulling partner Willie Fillum and go weaving in some bars. Never know, some lucky lady could be making my breakfast tomorrow.

So I picked up the phone to call Willie. It rang out five times before Willie in a panting voice said "hello"

I said "Willie, are you ready to rumble?" Willie gathered himself up and replied, "let's give it a tumble. I'll meet ya down near the delta in five minutess. I'm workin' here if ya know wud I mean" Willie is a Russian immigrant who taught himself English by watching boot-leg Brando movies in the '70's and thinks it's cool to feign his speech and mannerisms, but a heavily Slavic-accented ' Brando' often draws disbelieving stares. A good enough guy, though -- saved me after a nasty run-in with some Jehovah's Witnesses who had me in a death grip after one-too-many refusals of entry to my apartment, so I figured I owed him. You know, look out for him in these mean streets.

Willie was really the least of my worries. I had to concentrate on finding just the right gal in that bar. No smoker. Not too much perfume. Not too much make-up. You know, a natural girl. As I entered I noticed one who stood out like a sore thumb. She was all dressed in black and blue. She seemed to throb to the music on the jukebox. I decided to approach her.

The bar was dim...a slow number was playing and the girl was swaying slightly to the music yet trying not to be too conspicuous, no, conspicuos...er, conspicous...conspicious...koff, koff... noticeable. I sidled up next to her and looked deep into her eyes... the blue one as well as the black one. "Good Lord.. you're ... a... freak !" I growled as we joined in a tango and cleared the danced floor. " Can you tolerate me ? ", she whimpered as we spun in another deadly Bolivian twirl, "You'll do ....for now ." I barked , as we finished the dance and then headed to the bar for drinks.

Joachim was a one-eyed bi-sexual midget, not to be trusted, quick with a knife or sandal, but ran a clean bar. " Two milks... straight." I muttered, and Joachaim swiftly did his bit. He didn't want trouble, but damn it ....trouble always found him.

All of a sudden I felt something grab my shoulder. I slowly turned around. From the floor up, I saw a pair of black cowboy boots, size 12 I think, and continued looking up and up, and then BAM! It was at that moment, between consciousness and oblivion , that I realized that I had once again failed to file my tax return, and under the new administration, they weren't taking 'I forgot' as an excuse anymore.

After that moment of thought, I realized this dude was scarier than your common IRS guy, this dude was meaner than a junkyard dog. I was now flat on my back, and I thought I could hear Leo Sayer singing, "you make me feel like dancing" in the background.

Question was, how did the IRS Terminator find me here? I realised then that I stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the other drinkers, lechers and spouse-dodgers. It was the tight, ruddy-purple complexion and the large nail stuck to the back of my head that did it..... Joachim shouted 'there's nothing to see here folks' and little Leo crooned, as I was dragged out of the bar by my slingbacks and tights yelling 'If Willie Fillum comes in, tell him I'm downtown...and bring my accountant'

Just then who should appear but Willie himself. He slapped himself against that IRS guy so hard that he never knew what hit him. As the IRS guy slinked down to the pavement Willie spit right in his eye. Ahhhh, dear Willie. I should have known he'd come thru for me. He always has. Well, except for that one time at the Songfacts Christmas Party...but that's a story for another day. I was so relieved that I grabbed Willie and shook him vigorously. He always liked that. I always try to keep Willie happy. If you've got a good Willie you've got to stroke his ego often.

"Willie my man, you did it again", I said as Willie straightened up. We high fived each other and strolled cockily back into the bar.

Willie decided he wanted to play some pool, so he headed on over to the table. I noticed the girl with one blue eye and one black eye was trying to hit on Willie. Now Willie is a cool dude and all, but sometimes he doesn't have a whole lot of common sense.

The multi-coloured-eyed girl leant seductively over the pool table causing Willie to straighten, fluff his stroke and cannon the white through the air and into the lap of the biggest, hairy-ars*d biker you ever saw. Suddenly aware of his predicament, Willie shrank leaving me to sort out the mess.

All of a sudden I just started singing...give me three steps, give me three steps mister, and you'll never see me no more.....A big smile appeared on the dude's face and he pointed at me and said "Dude, I love that song"....saw Skynyrd in concert years ago, man, they rawwwked". We shot the breeze for awhile, strolled over to the bar to grab another beer.

As we chewed the fat I saw from the corner of my a blonde chic sitting at the end of the bar pasting stamps into an album. She was an earthy looking girl with glasses. When the bartender asked what she wanted to drink she kind of snorted a laugh and said "make mine a tonic, grenadine and ginger with a twist of papaya and one of those nice umbrellas." "Oh man", I thought to myself. "I know that girl." I excused myself and headed over to her.

"Hi Babe, Haven't we met before? What's your sign?" I grinned.

She looked up at me, her doe-brown eyes framed by thick black lashes were as deep as mysterious pools, the smile that complimented them weakened my knees and quickened my pulse. She looked even better than my imagination had allowed for. She sighed "took you long enough to find me, honey. I've been sitting, watching and waiting for you..." at this point, she motioned towards the empty chair opposite her. "Truth or dare?" she giggled, and as I sat myself down, the hairs on the back of my neck electrified against my collar. This girl definitely had a wild streak, I would never have expected that from a stamp collector, but it was a deadly combination I was eager to shake up...

"Go on then, dare!"

She whipped those glasses right off her face and let down her hair and then said "lick it".....I raised an eyebrow and cleared my throat and asked "lick it?"...then i realized she was talking about a stamp she had placed in a very interesting place...

"So .... You 're into stamps , eh ? ", I said , realizing that this would likely sweep her off her feet immediately . Live hard and die young is my motto.

"Huh ?... ?" , she replied but with that "Take me ! I'm your's !" , sort of way ... sort of .

"Voulez vous couche avec mois, c'est soir ?", I murmured. This being the French Quarter, somehow it had actually come into fashion that one HAD to speak French to score ... or hit the highway. "Whaaa ?", she replied . "Say, have you got a Elvis memorial stamp circa '95 ... and ... what's with the nail stickin' outta you're head ?

Now I respect women ... infact, I love them more than any man on the planet , but this dame had gone to far ! NOBODY , and I repeat, NOBODY mentions that nail .... just ain't done . I mean , you're likely ugly too, but I was raised with manners ... so I hopped up , and with an instantaneous Ninja finger poke that went through those ear drums, pierced her brain (correcting that philatial defect in the left side ), returned to my seat in the blink of an eye and set her straight . "Gotta, go babe ." , I said. I 'm like that. helping my fellow (wo) man and moving on...

Willie returned and said that Joachim had been pouring shots of whiskey -- one for them one for him --- and that we 'd better split. I liked Joachim , but when he was on the juice, liked to play 'ankle-biting vampire' with his regulars, so I thought it was high time to split.

We reached Willie's ride, a '45 Mercedes. "Bormann's car. " , he liked to claim , often pointing to some residue in the back which he always boasted was dried grey matter ... though it looked suspiciously like mildew....

"We gotta case. ", he growled, "Get in, I'll tell you about it on the way ."

"Damn ! ", I grumbled , " a housecall or detective work ? " "You'll see." , he smiled ,maniacally , as he he put 'er in gear and burned rubber out of that cesspool.

As we cruised on out of the parking lot, I thought I would pop in a cd to listen to untill we reached our next adventure. Now I know Willie is quite the character to say the least, but when I opened up that cd case, I couldnt believe my eyes! Nothing but Boy Bands , barbershop , and experimental polka music . I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and shot Willie a look of disbelief and contempt , however, he just flashed a smile and chuckled in that carefree way he always had whenever I learned a a new , and unbelievable fact about my pal. "Relaxes me .", he offered , " Slap one in, if ya like ! "

I reluctantly pulled out a Backstreet Boys album. Willie looked at me and noded approvingly. 'good choice, my friend." I squeezed my eyes shut and slid it into the CD player scarcely believing what I was doing. A tinkly sound filled the interior of the car. Willie gave a sudden start. "So THAT'S where my Yanni album got to! Thanks man! I've been looking for it for ages!" He started bobbing his head the best he could in time to the...whatever the noise was. His eyes were closed. As a result, I saw the 18 wheeler bearing down on us before he did.

I frantically yelled "WILLIE!" hoping he would snap out of his Yanni trance, I grabbed the wheel and steered us right into an old oak tree, that did not move, I might add. We just sat there staring at the front of the car that was mangled around that tree. With the sound of the crash and Yanni still playing on the stereo, was not a good combo.

Nearly 4 years had passed since that horrendous incident, and we still hadn't budged from in front of the oak tree. Unfortunately Yanni was the only thing we had to listen to the whole time and we have both turned into stark-raving lunatics, while we enjoy howling at the moon around the turn of midnight each day. From time to time, buses with California license plates unload a bunch of tourists who then take a long, good look at us. People in the area like to tell their children scary stories about us, along the lines of 'This is what will happen if you don't turn that crap down right NOW'.

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'Crap ,indeed .' I thought after coming to . Damn ! That was a good smash-up . Well , there is murder in the air - brains to repair - and cases to solved, so I cut off a piece of meat from the dying driver for much needed protein and then kicked his useless carcass out and got behind the wheel . This is New Orleans ; I smiled as I drove off - no place for the weak .

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Nearly 4 years had passed since that horrendous incident, and we still hadn't budged from in front of the oak tree. Unfortunately Yanni was the only thing we had to listen to the whole time and we have both turned into stark-raving lunatics, while we enjoy howling at the moon around the turn of midnight each day. From time to time, buses with California license plates unload a bunch of tourists who then take a long, good look at us. People in the area like to tell their children scary stories about us, along the lines of 'This is what will happen if you don't turn that crap down right NOW'.

'Crap ,indeed .' I thought after coming to . Damn ! That was a good smash-up . Well , there is murder in the air - brains to repair - and cases to solved, so I cut off a piece of meat from the dying driver for much needed protein and then kicked his useless carcass out and got behind the wheel . This is New Orleans ; I smiled as I drove off - no place for the weak .

Down here in The Big Easy strange things are known to happen. The fog had risen ,swirling around the live oaks dripping with spanish moss. Clouds covered the big yellow moon and all was silent. I took the curve too fast, the speedometer needle nearly reaching the 70 mph mark. As I rounded the bend, there in the middle of the road, stood the woman, her long hair blowing about her shoulders, pointing to the threatening sky above and screaming HEEEEEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAAA

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Nearly 4 years had passed since that horrendous incident, and we still hadn't budged from in front of the oak tree. Unfortunately Yanni was the only thing we had to listen to the whole time and we have both turned into stark-raving lunatics, while we enjoy howling at the moon around the turn of midnight each day. From time to time, buses with California license plates unload a bunch of tourists who then take a long, good look at us. People in the area like to tell their children scary stories about us, along the lines of 'This is what will happen if you don't turn that crap down right NOW'.

'Crap ,indeed .' I thought after coming to . Damn ! That was a good smash-up . Well , there is murder in the air - brains to repair - and cases to solved, so I cut off a piece of meat from the dying driver for much needed protein and then kicked his useless carcass out and got behind the wheel . This is New Orleans ; I smiled as I drove off - no place for the weak .

Down here in The Big Easy strange things are known to happen. The fog had risen ,swirling around the live oaks dripping with spanish moss. Clouds covered the big yellow moon and all was silent. I took the curve too fast, the speedometer needle nearly reaching the 70 mph mark. As I rounded the bend, there in the middle of the road, stood the woman, her long hair blowing about her shoulders, pointing to the threatening sky above and screaming HEEEEEEEEEEEYAAAAAAAAAA.

Realizing that I must've been in the wrong place at the right time I screeched to a halt. Before I could say anything she hopped on in. Without a word she turned on the radio and tuned it to an oldies station. While Fats Domino was singing "walkin' to New Orleans" I reached across and took her face in my hands. Upon closer look I realized that I knew this girl.

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I blinked, and was instantly transported. It was 1960-something, the day I got my drivers license. She was there with me in the car - but... that was impossible. This girl hadn't even been born yet.

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I blinked, and was instantly transported. It was 1960-something, the day I got my drivers license. She was there with me in the car - but... that was impossible. This girl hadn't even been born yet.

In the background I could hear the Twilight Zone theme. Then Rod Serling was talking. "You're traveling through another dimension - a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead: your next stop: The Twilight Zone!"

I felt at once nauseous and yet excited. I know this girl! Why, it's Gianna Mangiafello. She had refused to go to the prom with me back in '64. But what is she doing here now...with me? It could only mean one thing.

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I blinked, and was instantly transported. It was 1960-something, the day I got my drivers license. She was there with me in the car - but... that was impossible. This girl hadn't even been born yet.

In the background I could hear the Twilight Zone theme. Then Rod Serling was talking. "You're traveling through another dimension - a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead: your next stop: The Twilight Zone!"

I felt at once nauseous and yet excited. I know this girl! Why, it's Gianna Mangiafello. She had refused to go to the prom with me back in '64. But what is she doing here now...with me? It could only mean one thing.

That I was incredibly confused, and maybe just a little strung out on something that wasn't intended for my health. Because, dammit, if this girl hadn't been born yet, how could I have asked her to the prom in 1964? And how could she have turned me down?

It made me go, "Hmmmmm." I looked in the rearview mirror. It was then I had my answer.

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I blinked, and was instantly transported. It was 1960-something, the day I got my drivers license. She was there with me in the car - but... that was impossible. This girl hadn't even been born yet.

In the background I could hear the Twilight Zone theme. Then Rod Serling was talking. "You're traveling through another dimension - a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead: your next stop: The Twilight Zone!"

I felt at once nauseous and yet excited. I know this girl! Why, it's Gianna Mangiafello. She had refused to go to the prom with me back in '64. But what is she doing here now...with me? It could only mean one thing.

That I was incredibly confused, and maybe just a little strung out on something that wasn't intended for my health. Because, dammit, if this girl hadn't been born yet, how could I have asked her to the prom in 1964? And how could she have turned me down?

It made me go, "Hmmmmm." I looked in the rearview mirror. It was then I had my answer. Reflected in the mirror behind me was Gianna, long stringy gray hair, yellowed teeth, skin as wrinkled as my roadmap. Next to her, to my great amazement stood a reflection of me, same bald pate, same missing leg. Yet putting my hand to my head, I could run my fingers through my longish wiry locks. Both my legs intact. My hands were the hands of a man 40 years younger. The paunch I've carried for the last 15 years somehow gone. In the seat next to me, Gianna, in all her youthful beauty. Don't worry, she whispered.... just kiss me and we'll live forever.

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I blinked, and was instantly transported. It was 1960-something, the day I got my drivers license. She was there with me in the car - but... that was impossible. This girl hadn't even been born yet.

In the background I could hear the Twilight Zone theme. Then Rod Serling was talking. "You're traveling through another dimension - a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead: your next stop: The Twilight Zone!"

I felt at once nauseous and yet excited. I know this girl! Why, it's Gianna Mangiafello. She had refused to go to the prom with me back in '64. But what is she doing here now...with me? It could only mean one thing.

That I was incredibly confused, and maybe just a little strung out on something that wasn't intended for my health. Because, dammit, if this girl hadn't been born yet, how could I have asked her to the prom in 1964? And how could she have turned me down?

It made me go, "Hmmmmm." I looked in the rearview mirror. It was then I had my answer. Reflected in the mirror behind me was Gianna, long stringy gray hair, yellowed teeth, skin as wrinkled as my roadmap. Next to her, to my great amazement stood a reflection of me, same bald pate, same missing leg. Yet putting my hand to my head, I could run my fingers through my longish wiry locks. Both my legs intact. My hands were the hands of a man 40 years younger. The paunch I've carried for the last 15 years somehow gone. In the seat next to me, Gianna, in all her youthful beauty. Don't worry, she whispered.... just kiss me and we'll live forever.

Ahh, but I wasn't falling for that. I'd been outfoxed by my own delusions once too often. Not this time, Gianna. "Baby, you had your chance and blew it." She looked stunned as I shoved her out of the car.

I got out of the car, too. I hobbled over to the nearest curb and pulled up a seat. It was quiet. I saw headlights approaching. The car steered right up to where I was sitting. I couldn't wait to see who it was this time.

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I blinked, and was instantly transported. It was 1960-something, the day I got my drivers license. She was there with me in the car - but... that was impossible. This girl hadn't even been born yet.

In the background I could hear the Twilight Zone theme. Then Rod Serling was talking. "You're traveling through another dimension - a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead: your next stop: The Twilight Zone!"

I felt at once nauseous and yet excited. I know this girl! Why, it's Gianna Mangiafello. She had refused to go to the prom with me back in '64. But what is she doing here now...with me? It could only mean one thing.

That I was incredibly confused, and maybe just a little strung out on something that wasn't intended for my health. Because, dammit, if this girl hadn't been born yet, how could I have asked her to the prom in 1964? And how could she have turned me down?

It made me go, "Hmmmmm." I looked in the rearview mirror. It was then I had my answer. Reflected in the mirror behind me was Gianna, long stringy gray hair, yellowed teeth, skin as wrinkled as my roadmap. Next to her, to my great amazement stood a reflection of me, same bald pate, same missing leg. Yet putting my hand to my head, I could run my fingers through my longish wiry locks. Both my legs intact. My hands were the hands of a man 40 years younger. The paunch I've carried for the last 15 years somehow gone. In the seat next to me, Gianna, in all her youthful beauty. Don't worry, she whispered.... just kiss me and we'll live forever.

Ahh, but I wasn't falling for that. I'd been outfoxed by my own delusions once too often. Not this time, Gianna. "Baby, you had your chance and blew it." She looked stunned as I shoved her out of the car.

I got out of the car, too. I hobbled over to the nearest curb and pulled up a seat. It was quiet. I saw headlights approaching. The car steered right up to where I was sitting. I couldn't wait to see who it was this time.

*schreeeechhhh!!!

The sound of the impending crash could not describe my next terrifying conclusion . . .

The driver appeared to be a dead corpse! The face looked vaguely familiar, but the sight of blood was too much for me to tell. Had this person been dead long? I decided to get out of the car and check, since I knew it was too late to exchange insurance information.

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I blinked, and was instantly transported. It was 1960-something, the day I got my drivers license. She was there with me in the car - but... that was impossible. This girl hadn't even been born yet.

In the background I could hear the Twilight Zone theme. Then Rod Serling was talking. "You're traveling through another dimension - a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind. A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are that of imagination. That's the signpost up ahead: your next stop: The Twilight Zone!"

I felt at once nauseous and yet excited. I know this girl! Why, it's Gianna Mangiafello. She had refused to go to the prom with me back in '64. But what is she doing here now...with me? It could only mean one thing.

That I was incredibly confused, and maybe just a little strung out on something that wasn't intended for my health. Because, dammit, if this girl hadn't been born yet, how could I have asked her to the prom in 1964? And how could she have turned me down?

It made me go, "Hmmmmm." I looked in the rearview mirror. It was then I had my answer. Reflected in the mirror behind me was Gianna, long stringy gray hair, yellowed teeth, skin as wrinkled as my roadmap. Next to her, to my great amazement stood a reflection of me, same bald pate, same missing leg. Yet putting my hand to my head, I could run my fingers through my longish wiry locks. Both my legs intact. My hands were the hands of a man 40 years younger. The paunch I've carried for the last 15 years somehow gone. In the seat next to me, Gianna, in all her youthful beauty. Don't worry, she whispered.... just kiss me and we'll live forever.

Ahh, but I wasn't falling for that. I'd been outfoxed by my own delusions once too often. Not this time, Gianna. "Baby, you had your chance and blew it." She looked stunned as I shoved her out of the car.

I got out of the car, too. I hobbled over to the nearest curb and pulled up a seat. It was quiet. I saw headlights approaching. The car steered right up to where I was sitting. I couldn't wait to see who it was this time.

*schreeeechhhh!!!

The sound of the impending crash could not describe my next terrifying conclusion . . .

The driver appeared to be a dead corpse! The face looked vaguely familiar, but the sight of blood was too much for me to tell. Had this person been dead long? I decided to get out of the car and check, since I knew it was too late to exchange insurance information.

Now I was truly confused. Although the car was a late model sedan, the male figure appeared to wearing clothes that went out of style in the 60's. I yanked the car door open, catching the body as it began to slide toward me.

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Now I was truly confused. Although the car was a late model sedan, the male figure appeared to wearing clothes that went out of style in the 60's. I yanked the car door open, catching the body as it began to slide toward me.

Holy crap!! It was Johnny Horton. Damn! How could this be? He died in 1960, killed by a drunk driver. As stunned as I was I immediately made the New Orleans connection. Horton's big hit was "The Battle Of New Orleans". This had to mean something. But what?

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