Plucked up, I raided PI again. Leona says she doesn't handle the old men as tenderly anymore, and wants to buy a spritzer full of deodorant so she can hit their scent-glands when they next reach for banana bread. I'm curious as to how the Axe-effect'll pan out in here. I asked about Skeletor, a strange creature who used to live here and visibly smelled. Leona said he'd been asked to leave, as he had a $300 unpaid coffee tab. He was last seen with a pony-tail ducking into a manhole down on Des Pins. That's actually not true -except for the pony-tail bit- as he never visits his family. No way. Someone really did just spritz the place with deodorant. Vanilla? Pretty far from appropriate... leaving us with the similar experience of having the pot-pourri mingle with the shit smell, instead of eliminating it.
Position open: PI pet. Must have at least 30 pounds of healthy body fat affordable to sweat into tense, highly-confined atmosphere. Skeletors need not apply.
1 comment:
This is the funniest rant about PI I've heard all morning.
The last time I went there was the day after the smoking ban was implimented. The entrance was cluttered with all the (d)regulars smoking their Export Greens and to get inside you had to run the gauntlet dodging projectile lung sludge missiles and other such biological weaponry coming from all angles. I later heard one of them saying "I haven't breathed this well and felt so healthy in a long time" and then proceeded to cough so hard and long that I thought he must be trying to orally give birth to his right lung.
Sorry that was all very disgusting.
Thanks for the brews last night.
Post a Comment