I was 25. She was not. I knew her from the high school days. NASA picked us both to go to the moon for some reason. They gave me a special set of condoms. They wanted me to have sex with her in space so I could collect moon dust from her vagina. Some bad shit happened. All I remember was part of the space craft lost pressure and I had to seal if off or face death too. She died. I laughed my ass off. So back on Earth I found myself on a couch with two twelve packs of Natty ICE because they sold out of cases. Fucking nuts I tell you. Pretty lucid to say to the least.

I once had $25,000, but after some bills and fun, it became none. You lied- I cried, I tried. We died. I am tripping, but not falling. I am smoking, but not joking.

Queens will play. I know they have. Stiff on their knees. Beautiful ponies. So beautiful, they'll kill us all. I fucking knew it. Madness is often a sure thing in the state of mind I find myself in. Madness for sure, but sorting out the blissfulness hasn't been as hard as expected. They say the tough get going and stuff. I'm not a buff when it comes to philosophy, but I know enough. I showed my smile once or twice. She knew right where to dial to get me feeling nice. It was the denial that got me the dice. Not so nice anymore. Do do do na na.

Nothing beats shooting guns. Quite the fun. Boom. Boom. Or is it bang, bang? I have been around guns my entire life. I know whats up and whats down. I'm a steady shot. And I like shots. Buy me a shot of Jack and we'll follow it up with some Tequila. Not Cuervo or fucking Patron. That's Mexican piss. Boom.

And apparently people take pictures of me at work and send them to me. But you have to read on to see that.