Monday, March 11, 2013
The Story of Geordio's Rooster Flock by G. Arthur Brown
“Fuck our eggs!” squawked one rooster!
“We don’t even have any fucking eggs!” squawked two roosters!
Geordio, as I said, had a whole flock of roosters. This was because he was a homophile. He couldn’t relate to women, even chicken women. He even got rid of a poinsettia that he thought might be a girl.
I totally told him it wasn’t a girl. He still gave it to a homeless man, who was very happy about it, until he realized it wasn’t cannabis sativa.
But the point is, you see a group of chickens, you assume that most are hens. This was not the case when you came around Geordio’s place. First of all, he just had them inside, like dogs or cats. There were nearly twenty of them. And the shit was caked into his carpet, which wasn’t good to begin with, so that I wouldn’t wear my nice shoes in his house for fear of fucking them up.
I was at his place one night.
“Fuck our eggs!” a rooster squawked.
And yeah, roosters can’t lay eggs, but they were laying something that was sort of like golf balls. If you boiled them down, and then crushed up the residue and snorted it, it got you super fucking high. We even gave some to that disappointed homeless guy. He could fly after that. I’m not sure if he could fly before that, but he did have large wings.
Copyright 2013 G. Arthur Brown
Artwork Remedios Varo