Jones Town’s Tainted Kool-Aid Horoscopes: I See a Bad Case of Crabs in Your Near Future

fairlane7.jpg

 Jones Town’s First Ever Horoscope Edition!

Before I channel my Aunt Fifie, and give you your Horoscopes I’d like to tell a little story first…

If you’ve ever had Crabs, you know that the Damn things are nearly indestructible, and that even after you think you’ve killed all the little Bastards off they somehow regroup for a counter-attack.

img_1064.jpg (Crabs callously overrun a man’s ashtray preventing him from enjoying a Pall Mall)

It’s like your own personal Viet Nam. Charlie is everywhere and your head is turning from side to side sure you saw one and then not so sure, and then “Pop, Pop, Pop” one appears out of the darkness of the Jungle with his Ak-47 blazing. “Son of a B*tch! Didn’t I just kill you?!” 

You finish him off, “Ratta tat tat” only to see another crawl out from a hole beside a tree. You’re running out of ammunition and reinforcements are nowhere to be found. But you have your trusty radio, and you know what must be done.

     img_1069.jpg (King Crab being interviewed on CNN)

Your only recourse is to call in Air Support and Napalm the whole damn place.

Oh, it’s gonna be ugly, and it’s gonna burn like a mother f*cker, but it has to be done. These little sh*ts need to be taught a lesson, and a gasoline based explosive is the only Teacher they respect.

Maybe there’s another way, but you can’t chance it. Charlie can’t be trusted. He already burned your A** during the Tet Holiday.

You make the call.

Within ten minutes you hear the faint rumble of the F-104 Starfighters as they make their approach from the SouthEast. “Oh Boy, those little f*cks are gonna get it now!” The hairs on your neck stand on end as the fighters get closer and closer. This is day you’ll never forget.

(Crabs moments before the bombs hit) img_1067.jpg

The fighters are just overhead, and they’re low, man are they low. You see them release their ordinance and brace for the impact. “BOOOOOOOOOM!!” The Jungle bursts into flames as a huge plume of smoke rises hundreds of feet into the air. “The Humanity.”

 img_1074.jpg (Street Justice!)

The air is hot and the smell of gasoline is everywhere. Your face is dripping with sweat and as you reach up to wipe it off you notice your eyelashes are singed. Nothing could have survived that, nothing.

Your heart pitter-pats, you realize the enemy is at last vanquished. You fill with such pride, such joy and you say…

(Aftermath of Napalm) img_1063.jpg

The reason I brought this up is I ran into an Ex of mine a few days ago. She’s married now, two kids, her husband is “great” and works at “blah blah blah” and just bought her a brand new shiny SUV etc etc, ad inifinitum, repetend.

Anyway, when we were going out, many years ago when she was still hot and her ass wasn’t two feet long from having a couple of kids pop out, (Apparently sideways), I went to Florida to check out a potential job. (That was one hell of a sentence). While I was gone she and her friend “B”, who was also very hot, stayed at my apartment to take care of my cat, and to keep my Agricultural Business going.

I get back a few days later and I’m pretty excited, “Papa’s movin’ to Florida!” (Not that I like Florida, it’s actually pretty “Yee Haw”, but at the time I was still working as a counselor and the job was a great opportunity). My girlfriend and I celebrate and things are definitely cool. Until about a week later.

I get up one morning to take a shower and as I’m getting undressed I happen to look down, “What the F*ck is that?” I’m trying to bend in half so I get close enough to see, but I can’t. So i start scratching on this place on my “upper leg region” and lo and behold, “Oh, Hell NO!”

img_1071.jpg (10x Magnification of “Crab”-Pthirus Pubis)

I rush to the phone and call my girl thinking ” That such and such and that no good so and so, why I…” Well, she doesn’t have them, and didn’t she mention she wasn’t at my house while I was gone? “Uh, no you sure didn’t.” But “B” was.

“So, she was f-ing in my bed or something?” No, no she doesn’t have a boyfriend, she stayed over to get away from the “Hippie Colony” she was living in. “Great. How did I get them then?” Well they get in your sheets, couch, carpet, pretty much everything. “I got them from my sheets?”

Now, if I’m going to get Crabs, “Awwwww!”, at least it could be from something worthwhile, especially since I was only dating “A” because I was trying to scheme on “B” only to have her date my friend “C” instead because, as I learned years later, she didn’t think I was interested in her.

So I get “B” on the horn, and yep. “Son of a B*TCH! How do you rid of these damn things?” I asked. You go to the pharmacy and ask for this, and that and what works better and… “You mean I have to tell a stranger I have f*cking Crabs?!!!” Yep. “Fine, but you owe me BIG TIME.”

(Godzilla No Like Crab. Godzilla Love Taco!)godzilla.jpg

Long story short, after two and half months I finally exterminated the last of the little bastards, and a few years later “B” and I ended up going out for a while. So, I guess things turned out in the end. Now on to the reason I even started writing this in the first place.

Gemini: I see a Bad Case of Crabs in your future. I mean BAD! If you know any Cancers tell them to beat it, hit the road, don’t let the door hit you… You get the point.

In fact, I suggest you remove all fabrics from your home and Burn them. Call into work for the next week and just sit in a bath-tub filled with Lye. Oh, and Pray because you’re f*cked! Actually, since there’s two of you, you’re really f*cked.

The rest of you better thank your lucky stars because they don’t make Napalm anymore, and making it yourself can be  dangerous. Trust me…

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~ by fairlane on May 20, 2007.

One Response to “Jones Town’s Tainted Kool-Aid Horoscopes: I See a Bad Case of Crabs in Your Near Future”

  1. A similar thing happened to a friend of mine – he caught crabs after dossing down at a friend’s place in New York. It must have been the sheets. Two other people who also stayed at that place also caught ’em. I guess the dude who owned the place didn’t wash his sheets very well.

    My friend tells me they were d*mned hard to get rid of.

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