Bagism: Library

Skywriting -- Mar 07, 1998
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Continued from Mar 06, 1998

john decided that wonderwall was the only cool person at bagism. everyone else were a bunch of embarassing hangers-on.

Luiza, that wasn't even a bagist, looked to Wonderwall with nasty intentions. "Why a streecar doesn't hit him?", she said, entering her house before a streetcar hit her. Her older sister was rwading something. "Anna, you tell me a story?"

The girl looked rather subdued, but she was no problem in telling her younger sister a fairy tale. "So alright. Once upon a time in a kingdon by the sea...", she started, but before she could go on there was someone knocking at the door. "I wonder who could ever be", she said, opening the door, and seeing the scariest sight ever. "Anna? sis? What's wrong?", Luiza asked. "Who's there?"

Anna gasped. "It's...it's..."

Jerry Lewis! "NICE LAAAAAAAAADY!!!!"

Then him and Wonderwall got hit by a streetcar.

"Phew" everyone gasped in relief. "We were getting damn tired of them calling us hangers-on." Anyhow, everyone hopped back in the sack for another huge orgy, but this time they pushed all the kiddes out so they wouldn't grow up balmy like thier derranged parents.

Suddenly John caught sight of a little old man (this old man wasn't particularly clean, however. In fact, he was downright dirty) sitting in a corner of the room. The Beatle strode over to the man and raked him with a critical gaze. "Hey, what're you doing here? And who are you, anyway?" he demanded.

The dirty old man blushed, looking slightly embarrassed. "I... My name's Willis." John stood back and looked the man up and down. He was short and very round, sort of pear-shaped, actually, and he was wearing a pair of trousers that were quite obviously too small for him, held up by a belt pulled far too tightly around his waist, looking like a sort of equator. *North Willis and South Willis,* thought John.

"Well what are you doing here?" John growled again, angry at having his orgy interrupted. Willis looked abashed and said nothing, and John grew angry. "Look, I've been through a lot lately. My friend recently died and came back, I've been hit by manic streetcars more times than I can count, and I don't have the energy to mess with the likes of you. Now get the hell out!" Willis opened his mouth to protest.

"But," he began. "But I want-" But John cut him off instantly, guessing correctly at just what it was that Willis wanted (after all, what else would a dirty old man be after?).

"You're too old," John snapped. "Now get out or I'll kick the shite out of you." He stepped forward menacingly and Willis hopped up and waddled away from John, intending to leave as quickly as possible, saying...

"I HOPE YOU GET HIT BY A STREETCAR!!!" John simply chuckled inside, and resisted the urge to yell "benn there, done that" because that was a REALLY clicheed and over-used phrase. But now John was on his own. Sitting in the lonely, humongous house which he called "Kenwood", just outside of London. The evening sun was just setting through the front window, and he sat on the leopard skin couch (fake fur, of course) Just then, he heard a knock on the door...

He opened it to find Marianne Faithfull, dressed in nothing but a fur carpet. Her eyes were red and puffy and she looked more than a little dazed. John once again resisted his slightly raunchy first sexual instincts and kept his hands to himself. "Marianne... what's wrong?" he asked. She looked at him for a few seconds before she replied, "Well, you see, it's... the streetcar problem. It's driving me crazy. I can't sleep at night!"

John was about to say that none of them could, but she went on "Sometimes I think they will hit me during the night...take me away...I just don't know what to do!". He realised she was way too gone into that madness. But, was there something to be done about it?

How could anything be done about it? These are superstreetcars we're talking about here! They're stronger than we are! It's somewhat of a downhill battle, folks!

"Marianne, I think you should go home...you know, Mick might come home anytime." She jsut stared. "I am not going anywhere, I am too afraid." John groaned. "All right, all right," he said. He could tell by the look in Marianne's eye that being scared wasn't the only thing on her mind, so he hustled her into the spare bedroom and called Mick. "No answer! Damn! For once I wish he wasn't out partying!"

Just then she appeared at the door. Oh, my! Where had that fur carpet gotten to?? "Um... oh..." John sputtered. (he had meant to ask her where the hell she had put the rug, but it didn't exactly come out that way) "John.." she purred. "You know I've always thought you were the sexiest out of all of the Beatles" Now THAT was something John like to hear "Really?" he asked coyly. "Well, Paul gets kind of boring after the first 200 times, you know?" she asked. But John didn't answer her was too busy staring at her... body... Then he got hit by a streetcar.

"NOOOOOOOOO!" screamed John "NOT A STREETCAR!! NOT NOW!!!! I WAS GOING TO GET SOME!!!! NOT FAIR!!!! DAMN STREETCARS!!!!!"

Continued on Mar 08, 1998

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