FLACCID PROSTHETIC PENIS

I'm on the phone with Shewho. We're catching up since last night. Nothing much happens in our lives, but we somehow come up with something to talk about. She's been reading Leonardo's journals online. (da Vinci not di Capprio). I've been googling "flaccid prosthetic penis". I guess we know who the intellectual is in this relationship. You know how much a realistic looking limp dick costs? Over $800. Hard-ons are a dime a dozen. The place is a mess and I'm as close to the stove as I can get without singeing. I look out the window and see this giant "stealth" grey, brand new, mud caked pick-up pull in my driveway. It announces FORD in foot high letters. I think it's a new RNButch toy, but out pours Diamond Dave, Pigpen and someone I don't know. They are here to show off the new toy and make Bloody Marys. I'm in.
    Before doing the soft penis search, I'd started an order with my taxidermy supply company. Beth was to call back. As Pigpen unpacked the tiny cans of tomato juice, tabasco, celery, etc. the phone rang and I placed my order of wolf death masks and fake snow. I was introduced to Jimbo and we all settled into morning cocktails. DD had been up since 4am so excited to be up in the sticks he couldn't sleep. Eye medicine and vodka would be needed to put him down for his nappy. Pigpen did not have celery salt nor horseradish but still made a killer bloody.
   Talk turned to HWS and the seemingly false alarm bomb dropped by RNButch. It's a small town. You can't avoid it. The one thing that phone call, out of the blue, did was get me thinking actively about what I would do (given the cash and opportunity). I had Mystery Girl and Sister NOYB on board. That was a big start. The month of May, hunting, photo-shooting, making art .....with two (or more) supermodels and a cast of characters. How could it possibly go wrong? So now, I'm thinking in my manic object de arte producing frenzy, I could get some GO Pro cameras and a camera man or two and do it myself. How hard could it be?
   When they all go to leave DD insists I sit in the truck. The thing is like a four wheel drive space ship. They had it out in the field doing 60 mph in a foot of snow last night. The fucking machine is made for off road racing in the comfort of a Lear Jet. You can't but love it, as evil as it is. "You could buy an African village for the price of this." I pontificate. "Yeah, but who wants an African village?" Pigpen is at least honest. And he made the drinks. I bid them all goodbye, half lit and go back online looking for a limp dick I can afford. Just another day.