Tuesday, January 09, 2007

the now slightly more common double posting: a fairy tale of new york

Like a giant cock, the Lincoln Tunnel is stroked by a river. Manhattan meiosis feeds gametes to spew from the tube all over New Jersey. Once a fertile Garden State, ready for the receiving, now she’s small and cold and old and wizened and overflowing with sperm.

I left Ryan somewhere in the East Village. Half liters of dark lager at a small mysterious German beer hall where loud near-Asian pop music tumbled from the walls. Graduate school took a toll on my teeth. You know, lack of dental insurance and all that chewing tobacco.

“I would take care of his daughter’s wedding on his deathbed he made me promise. My brother. Now I’m broke. I was in Pakistan for 8 days and paid for the wedding myself. But a promise is important to me. A promise this is everything.”

“What do you think of Musharraf?”

“Good for the army, no good for Pakistan.”

This guy had insights. I had to take advantage.

He stomped through the streets in his cab like a madman, ducking and dashing through traffic and crashing, finally, into the back of big black as we approached the tunnel. The car behind crashed into us. It registered a 3.0 on the Oeschle scale. I saw it coming so I braced myself. Made it through without a scratch. The black BMW M3 convertible fared slightly worse. Dented the bumper. A long yellow line like Zorro’s Z.

BLKICE66 on the license plate, he struggled from the car with both arms raised yelling “WHAT THE FUCK MAN!” He was a very large man but not particularly athletic. A tangle of three foot long dreadlocks fell drapingly over his spherical shape from under his dark blue corduroy bucket hat.

I sat in the back while the cop did his paper work. Unfortunately this was no place to catch another cab and regardless, I don’t think my new Pakistani friend was in any mood for me to skip out on the fare. So I sat tight.

Like so much ejaculate we hurtled from the tunnel at one hundred and three miles per hour, a yellow blur in the night. I was scared for my life. I should have buckled my seat belt. But at this point I was very reluctant to move freely about the taxicab.

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