Monday, September 18, 2006


Here we have Amanda Lewis and D$.


A stained glass window in Boldt Castle, Alexandria Bay, New York.


I got this shot of Owen Lewis from a security camera in the Copenhagen, NY, Stewarts.


Labia Lapping Losers

Over the past few weeks I have received much criticism of my heretofore polite and cool-tempered blog. At first, I took this good naturedly, as a sign of interest in my endeavor. No longer. Siege warfare takes its toll, quickly reducing the most prim and proper maid to a raving cannibal. Prepare for the unfairly provoked return volley. And as I am a bushwhacking son-of-a-bitch-- a dry gulcher who shoots hyenas like you in the back from close range with over-kill ordinance -- none of you should be surprised by my dirty pool.

First things first. Owen and Amanda Lewis, the north country's answer to Sonny and Cher, are having a child. (I've asked for an ultrasound imagine to insert here, but Owen said it was a little early for that. I suspect it's a boy and the prenatal shots indicate he's not particularly well endowed, just like his old man.)
OK, so Owen complains today, practically in tears, that my blog is far too "West Chester centric."
"Mike, you haven't even mentioned anything about my boys being able to swim," he said through gummy sobs. "I mean come on. What do I have to do to get you to respect me?"
Well, Owen, not asking questions like that to start, but I'll give you your moment. Hey --everybody -- Amanda -- is -- pregnant -- wow -- that -- is -- so -- cool! -- That -- is -- like -- the -- best -- thing -- ever -- no one -- has -- ever -- done -- that --before!
There ya go Owen. Now, you can finally sleep at night and you'll have the confidence to fire that guy who's been stealing from your Rent-A-Zone.
But really folks, what did Owen do that was spectacular? Insert penis in wife (there are soooo many things I wanted to say instead of wife here and I didn't), gyrate softy, and roll over. That's easy. A challenge is taking long in and out thrusts and then pretending that it was an accident when you squirt all over your partner. See the challenge comes because there's no way she could possibly believe it's an accident, especially when you're screaming out your intentions preceding the event.

Thanks for playing Owen. Tomorrow night...John Pell.

3 Comments:

At 12:01 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ah yes, the angry sharped truth rises to the surface and creates clouds of multi colored fractals in the mix. I love the Pell. He easily casts his spell over unsuspecting and unworthy advasaries...beautiful thing this sPell. Beautious. TRMFD

 
At 10:33 AM, Blogger Pell said...

You are a poet. I know you're about to have a kid and all, but I suggest you quit your job, off load all parenting duties on Julie and stick with the business of crafting words. With the kid, an angry wife and the harsh beauty of the Tug Hill, you're in the perfect environment to give birth to prose of the soul.

 
At 2:49 PM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Pell, let me know when you have finished that book on parenting, "Raising Your Kids With Seven Stink Knuckles." Amanda really wants to read it.

 

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