gnoll's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- shazaam i was with some familars in a large hotel downtown. heard there was a party on the fourth floor and jumped the gun by getting in the elevator before anyone else could. thought i pushed 4 but the elevator hot right up to the penthouse suites on the 100th floor. when i stepped out i figutred i might have actaully made it to the right floor, another seemingly familiar face coming out of a suite all hammered with a party hat on and some streams dangling around her neck. "the party in there?" - yep, go right in - aight, thanks yo" inside a bunch of neuveau riche cuban teens getting all goofy on red wine around a huge dining table with a few blond girls they coaxed up from the street. wrong room. the next suitre door was slightly ajar and when i crept up to peek in a woman in hotel garb swung it open, nearly smacking me int he forehead, and asked if i was there for the massage. "uh. yes, of course." didnt see any reason to ruen down a massage in some penthouse suite. i was led inside and over to a ridiculously huge and puffy bed. around the room attendants from the hotel were busy tidying up and emptying ashtrays etc. then from the washroom burt reynolds walks in, over to me, an asks if im there for the massage. "uh. sure. of course." he smiled, slid onto the bed and onto his stomach, and then said "anytime now". So whatever, maybe i'd get a fat tip or something.. i gave him a pillow to prop under his chest and elevate his head and went to work. his skin was loose and greasy. oiled up and ready to go. avoiding his ass and concentrating on his back, and legs i hoped to god i wasnt going to be expected to provide any additional services for mr. reynolds. after maybe ten minutes tops he said "alright, good job, time to go" and he slid off the bed again and headed back to the bathroom. the attendants half smiled and said that they'd get get me downstairs. i wasnt sure if they meant i'd get my cut once they had it all and were divying it up, or if a more hostile gesture was in store. i didnt, i was gone. on the way down it popped into my head that i should be a superhero. in the mirror i could see my reflection - i looked like edward james olmos, but with bushier facial hair and a better complexion. and now, fitted to my feeble frame, i had a purple jumpsuit with a yellow lightning bolt crudely stitched on the front with read thread. 11:05 a.m. - Saturday, Dec. 07, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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