Alrighty then, picture this if you will
 

10 to 2 AM, X, Yogi DMT, and a box of Krispy Kremes,
in my "need to know" pose, just outside of Area 51
Contemplating the whole "chosen people" thingy
when a flaming stealth banana split the sky
like one would hope but never really expect
to see in a place like this.
Cutting right angle donuts on a dime
and stopping right at my Birkenstocks,
and me yelping,

Holy fucking shit.

Then the X-Files being,
Looking like some kind of blue-green Jackie Chan
with Isabella Rossellini lips, and breath that reeked of
vanilla Chig Champa
Did a slow-mo Matrix descent
Outta the butt end of the banana vessel
And hovered above my bug-eyes, my gaping jaw,
and my sweaty L. Ron Hubbard upper lip,
and all I could think was:
"I hope Uncle Martin here doesn't notice
that I pissed my fuckin' pants."

I just sharted in my pants.

I'm speechless

OMG :1orglaugh :1orglaugh :1orglaugh

Why not toss some mescaline up in there?

Strapped down to my bed, feet cold and eyes red.
I'm out of my head am I alive? Am I dead.
Sun kissed and Sudafed Gyro scopes and infrared
won't help. I'm brain dead. Can't remember what they said.
God damn. Shit the bed.




And I didn't even graduate from fuckin' highschool :(