Moving To Montana Soon

This is the way I felt when I went to bed last night. So my bones were creaky, I’d a pain in my liver, my spine felt rusty in the middle and most worrying of all I’d very limited capacity in my vision and everything looked blurry even when I squinted and focused. I noted that it made everything look like a Renoir print, but so worried about this rapid and sudden physiological deterioration was I that I could take no pleasure in this – like imagining I was tripping and/or that I’d fallen through some vortex into Renoir’s imagination, a la Bring John Malcovich.

As mentioned in a previous post I am replacing the Venetians because they are caked in mould. I have now reached the conclusion that there are mould spores in the air also, invisible to the naked eye, but there nonetheless, and something which is, above smoking, the major cause of lung cancer. And seeing I smoke too, I reckon I’m doubly fucked.

I entertained the idea of moving out, packing my stuff and going, not forgetting to change banks or maybe keep all my cash under the bed from here on in to avoid the landlord chasing me up for rent.

Then Kimba called and told me The Mistress had kicked her out due to some unspecified sexual problem on Kimba’s part. So I could think of nothing else to tell her other than to come round.

When she arrived she walked right in on past me and put Frank Zappa on the turntable then started dancing like an imbecile dropping down and rolling her head right down between her knees like it’d suddenly become a ton’s weight and she couldn’t hold it up.

When she settled down she took a seat in my granny’s nice big rocking chair and I told her how Aloysius had been in touch to tell me about the fact finding mission he’d been on in Peru and how he’d somehow got wind of the US Airforce’s mapping of human thoughts.

Kimba told me she wasn’t interested and that she’d a story to tell me about The Mistress that I wouldn’t believe.

She told me I would regret taking her in as The Mistress had powers beyond the constraints of time and space and that she could get me in my bed even though she were miles away.

I told her about my physical ailments and that I suspected that in an act of suprahuman prescience The Mistress had foreseen Kimba seeking sanctuary with me and hexed me accordingly.

Kimba spent the rest of the night being restrained, moody and quiet. When she went to bed I put the Over-Nite Sensation back on, and unlike Zappa, realised that moving to Montana wasn’t even a maybe for me.