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I then hit the beach. Well, technically I suppose it's still
considered a "beach". The sand there is made up of
used hypodermic needles, disguarded liposucsion droppings and
dead bodies though. The sea water is basically an anti-primordial
soup mix now too. The scientific term is "acid". There
were lots of mutants running around trying to act like real peoples,
but if you just leave the locals alone they won't bother you.
I gave some beach bum a corn dog that made me puke (Hey, he was
homeless. Pukey food is just as good as non-pukey food to them
folks). He used it to stab a cop with though and then there was
a huge beach-chase scene that ended like the one with Gummi in
the first Fletch movie. Except the cop and the homeless
dude killed each other and then a chick with a mohawk set the
pier on fire and we roasted marshmallows and kittens for a few
hours.
After that I grabbed a cab back to my hotel that was driven
by a skinny Gandhi-dude who only knew how to accelerate, brake
and flick off other asshole drivers angrily in his own language...
I found it very "un-passive resistence" to tell you
the truth. We were then stuck in the unending afternoon to evening
to dawn traffic jam that surrounds all of Southern California.
LA actually has more traffic then Sung Hi Lee's hot and free
website*!! But it's not 1/4th as fun and
sexy.
I got back to my hotel and then headed
on over to the Universal City Walk for a late dinner. I got drunk
at the Hard Rock Cafe and pissed on John Lennon's glasses only
to be thrown out for the third year in a row. I walked the City
Walk for a bit, got some free Haagen Dazs after performing
some favors for a few of the soda jerkettes behind the counter
and then I went shirt shopping. Every year I try to find the
coolest and most obnoxious shirt available in all of California
to wear to E3, and every year I top the previous. This time I
thought that I had found the ULTIMATE shirt... But it only came
in a size "medium". It was an awesome sight to behold
too. All of the girlies would have been mine to command had I
but had this shirt in my possession. It was a bright orange cotton
T-shirt with Mr. T's head front and center with the words "I
PITY THE FOOL!" emblazoned above it. I would have been the
pimp-daddy of all white guys at the convention if they only had
an XL. Sonovabeetch!! I ended up just getting a nifty Storm Shadow
Hawaiian shirt instead. It was cool and all, but Storm Shadow
never beat up Rocky or starred in D.C. Cab.
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While
at the beach I saw a bunch of natives having a fish bar-b-que
on the sand. It looked entertaining and vulgar so I decided to
self invite myself. They had lots of big fishes hoisted up on
ropes and they seemed to be de-gutting them in search of a small
child that had disappeared in the surf earlier in the day. I
was dancing all around a makeshift bonfire I had put together
trying to get the god of tuna to make me a sandwich out of the
biggest fishy they had strung up. Soon, for one reason or another,
I began punching, kicking and farting on the giant beast while
the authorities were looking at the license plates and puppets
that came out of the last manta ray they carved up. I must have
gone one juicy one too many though for in the blink of an eye
I was playing the part of Pinnochio in the belly of the alligator.
The gilled many-toothed thing was still alive and kicking and
eating. I only got out when I started blindly stabbing around
with my machete like those jungle people at the end of Apocalypse
Now when they were working that cow. The good news is I got
out of the monster's stomach with only a few minor pieces of
flesh missing and I found the kid that everybody was looking
for. The bad news is I cut the boy up worse than the shark in
my berserker blind Canadian Rage of escapement. I blamed the
whole thing on violence on television and was interviewed on
Jay Leno later that day because of my heroics.... Well, that
happened except for Jay Leno was played by a police officer and
he didn't so much interview me as arrest me and beat me up with
a street sign. |
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