Another Memory Dies

Jan 26, 2020 Diary entry: Paulie here, sipping one of my well known Skunk in the Hole cocktails and supping on corndogs, I’ve been thinking about my fifth grade gym teacher, the one who said he wouldn’t sell me a glass of piss if I were on fire when I offered him my nickle for a sip out of his canteen when we were on our usual Tuesday forced march to the city dump to tidy up the grounds, I read his obituary in the newspaper today, it says he died at home from a long illness, it is obviously a cover story, they probably drug his bloated remains from the river out by the sewage settling ponds, he was always a bloated turd of the highest order, he must have been one of the high degrees in one of those secret orders that would never reveal the secrecy surrounding the fact that they were all stinking turds, but that has never been much of a secret to Paulie, the bastards can duck but they are not hidden, they are like naked ghosts who can’t hide because their rotted clothes betray them, they may hide from the eyes but they cannot hide from the nose, they smell like a marathon runner’s socks after a three-state run during the Dog Days of August, Paulie pours out a high Skunk in the Hole and he drinks to another dead memory from his childhood, may the dead stay that way and never haunt Paulie again, shalom my people, shalom…


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