Dena Taylor’s Musings

New pajamas

Low expectations

Free food

Scalp petting

An iPod

A “Fuck Cancer” button

A wax-free Brazilian

The Slummit

Hockaloogie Heights

Tetanus Terrace

Carcass Corner

Hanta Hills

Goiter Grove

Infested Glen

Ramshackle Ridge

Parched Springs

By Dena & Brother-in-law Rob Leydon

Bo(red)

Beave(red)

Butterfinge(red)

Can’t Get Hi(red)

Deflowe(red)

Fucke(red)

Grandma Expi(red)

Inb(red)

Just Fi(red)

Hot and Liquo(red)

Perspi(red)

Neute(red)

ME: (Sitting quietly at a three-top table in a coffee shop. The place is
packed.)

TABLELESS MAN: May I sit here?

ME: Why?

TABLELESS MAN: Um, because you have a large table all to yourself and there’s room for at least one, maybe two other people?

ME: I dunno. Are you a knee shaker?

TABLELESS MAN: A what?

ME: A knee shaker. You know, one of those guys who sits and rapidly shakes his knee up and down like he’s nervous or excited or something.

TABLELESS MAN: Uh, I don’t think I do that.

ME: You don’t think or you don’t?

TABLELESS MAN: No. I don’t.

ME: Are you a sniffer?

TABLELESS MAN: Jesus. A what?

ME: A sniffer—the kind of person who refuses to get up and blow their nose. The kind who just sits there and sniffs up his nose snot every few seconds, annoying everyone within earshot. And making normal quiet people who are trying to focus want to vomit.

TABLELESS MAN: No, lady. I’m not a Sniffer.

ME: You don’t have to get all snotty.

TABLELESS MAN: Sorry, but I feel like I’m getting the third degree here and I haven’t even sat down yet.

(His cell phone rings to the tune of In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida. He starts to
retrieve it from his jorts pocket.)

ME: Are you going to answer that?

TABLELESS MAN: What if I did?

ME: Either you want to share this table quietly or you want to talk on your cell phone. You can’t have it both ways.

TABLELESS MAN: For fuck’s sake! Fine. I won’t answer it.

ME: If you’re not going to answer your cell phone you should turn it off or at least turn that obnoxious ringer sound off. That song sucks worse than the white-trash jorts you’re wearing.

TABLELESS MAN: Unfucking believable. FINE! I’ll turn it off. Happy?!
Anything else, your Highness?!

ME: No. Go ahead and sit. I’m leaving anyway.

• Omen Airlines: We know where you’re headed before you do.
• V-666 Engine: The ultimate driving-over-people machine.
• Motel 666: We’ll leave the light on. And then we’ll put it out. Forever.
• V8+666: Looks like vegetable juice but it’s Bob.
• 666 Flags: Your friends. Your party. Your park. Your doom.
• Union 7666: Regular, unleaded or Antichrist?
• Six Degrees of Satan: There’s a lot more of us than you think.
• Route 666: Giving you a few hearty kicks is just the beginning.
• 666 Feet Under: Several hundred feet closer to Hell.
• Six-Six-Sixlets: Tastes like candy but its cyanide.
• KDAM 66.6 FM, The Beast: The hottest hits of the eternally damned.