Loose Talk

0MjY2tR“Whoa there, slow down, kid.”
“Aww c’mon mister, I gotta cruise, man.”
“I can dig it, buddy, sure, but safety first.”
“Who needs safety when you have God on your side.”
“Son, that’s very wise of you, but still, you have to be responsible.”
“Yeah yeah, I get it. But if I ain’t cruisin’ I aint livin’ and that ain’t what God wants.”
“Another wise thought and yes, it’s true, God wants–check that, needs you to cruise ’cause he wants you live. But still, like I said safety–”
“Safety smafety, I ain’t got no time to be putting on the pads, old timer. I gotta cruise, baby, I gotta cruise.”
“You remind me of me when I was your age. I used to cruise so hard it’d give God diarrhea.”
“What changed? You could still cruise hard and loose.”
“I could cruise harder and looser than you’ve ever dreamed.”
“What’s stopping you?”
“Ask my wife.”

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One order of SHUT THE FUCK UP PLEASE!

Old Gabber Von Palaver over here wagging his chin like it was a see-saw watching a tennis match, up and down back and forth in and out my god this guy’s sick with the tittle-tattle so hard his maundering blither is firing like a goddamn prattle cannon. Slow down, buddy, I like a good blether session as much as the next guy but this gabber gossip babble blasting is worse than VX nerve gas. If you’ve gotta kill me now fine go ahead but do not take all the time in the freaking universe to tell me about it first or I swear to god I just might die. Listen, you do not need to explain it to me, okay, I know grandiloquence, if time, I do, some might say I talk with a gilded tongue in the various styles of many different yet equally revered jazz greats. My mouth is three kinds of saxophone horning smooth and sweet beneath the pleasuring rays of an alien moon. So don’t look at me like I’m hyperbolating when I’m saying that buddy over here is running off at the mouth like a million motherfucking chattering monkeys from some god forsaken backwater on the far side of a dark planet in solar system way over in some other part of our space jammed into a barrel and tumbling over some magnificent waterfalls. Do not say that. If you choose to say I’m running my mouth because some buck is running his mouth then you are about to get run in the mouth. Via karate. As in kickpunch. As in black dot. As in dojo. So there. Now will someone please pass the freaking paprika because this freaking steak is like freaking Macadam in my freaking mouth. Who the fuck picked this restaurant anyway? Dollars for donuts it was Motormouth McGee over here. There should be a law.