I was in the hospital for three days. Someone representing the Baltimore Ravens came to visit me in the morning. actually, it is the team's mascots Edgar, Allan, and Poe, and they're carrying tire irons. Allan starts toward me, but i get up. a detente sets in. i take a nap and the birds sample the hospital buffet. Poe prefers a cigarette, and decides to travel by bus to the museum downtown.
I wake up later in the evening. I dreamt of an of an old farm, filled with people wearing enormous overalls. one of the men turns to me.
"I know you're thinking about my overalls."
"I guess I am," I admit, toeing the dirt.
"I always thought I was you," he says.
At this point I wake up, and Edgar and Allan are passed out on my floor. there's puke everywhere. “Those fucking guys," I say to myself grinning.

I get out of the hospital soon after Poe is found dead, shot in the back of his head, execution style. Witnesses describe a giant cat with a gun fleeing the scene. Days later, a giant cat is found three blocks away living under an assumed identity.
"Roger Tuna Prrrow" as he was known to his neighbors was a missing poster, a giant cat running awol. Mr. Prrrow escaped notice by wearing a large fedora that covered his floppy cat ears, and a large overcoar to cover his furr.
Roger’s tail was a totally separate issue. A neighbor, Mrs. Isadora Colangelovangelista, spoke of Roger’s “thing.”
“We all knew he had a thing, you know, a tail, but it was too awkward to even mention it. You felt bad enough about his ugly cat face.”
How Mr. Prrrow grew to such an enormous size, know one may know, but we all know the Masons are probably behind it.
Bail was set at one million and a court date is pending. Edgar and Allan carry on without their friend and suffix Poe. But the damage is done, and three days into the regular season, they are stoned to death by angry fans.
Bo Jackson came over last night and apologized for not helping me when Deion Sanders and his angry homicidal/drug hungry teammates kicked the whispers and screams out of me. As a gift, he brought me a card. He told me there was money inside. I opened the card and Bo had written “I hate you” inside the card, and there was no money to be found.
I looked up and Bo was gone. The room empty. I bored quickly and started making weird noises. I was using my jellyfish voice and singing Genesis’ brilliant mid-70’s titular track “Trick of the Tail” when someone who I didn’t really know walked in. So then I had to act like I wasn’t making those noises. So awkward. She leaves, and I’m like shit, she totally heard me, and then I fart, and then- well, there’s nothing a man can do but laugh.


hey doug, my computer won’t let me put pictures on this piece. could you poop on my poop?