PRINCESS OF THEE PEARLS (for L.B.G.M)

At 2am yesterday I got up out of bed to go take a piss. I was still half asleep when I got to the toilet. There is a small vent in the corner of my bathroom. This is an old building so the vent is nothing more than a metal grate painted over countless times. It is missing a fan for proper extraction and removal of air. From this tiny opening I heard the faint sound of frogs and squeeking. I imagined a throne made of pearl on metal wheels; like the first rollerskates. On this throne sits a red-haired girl with the creamiest white skin ever. Charlie Brown would have beat Snoopy to death with his swollen member had he lain eyes on her. Pushing this royal chair: 23 small monkies but with the head of frogs. They slap each other frequently when they run into each other. She remains blank faced. Her only garment is a very tight blue t-shirt with the image of a burning snail in gold ink. On her head, carved out of a rare wood, sits a crown that is home to two types of small worms. One that perpetually bores through the wood, the other that fills in the microscopic tunnels. The princess never sweats and will eventually be given a fool's scepter so that she may brain her simian chauffeurs. Once the massacre is complete she can strip off her singular item of clothing and pump out a few sit-ups and push-ups in the glistening puddles of viscera being careful not to upset the crown. The key phrase is "slow controlled movements." Elsewhere, perhaps from the elevator shaft, comes the odor of sizzling sausages swiftly searing, sending scores scampering. New Orleans jazz crackles from an old speaker in the lobby.