MC Skat Cat part2 or How I Learned to Love Myself.

I don't know if this is at all true, but the word "hobo toes" is a horrible knuckle tattoo. I wake in a dry haze. Damn, this weather. It is like standing in front of a hand dryer for hours. The only thing that grows here is methamphetamines. Man, these pills are strong. I know they are working because of the Barney purple light around everything. The only cure for this feeling is the hot tub. The hot tub is an awesome invention that only leads to relaxation and euphoric drunken times. And usually a boner. I could sit in this stew all day. So relaxed. My fellow comrades are enjoying the water as well. Then all hell broke loose. The screams and merriment of tanked up lesbians filled the air. Louder and more boisterous than Shriners on an out of town bender. The hot tub becomes a bug light for bi-sexual ladies. That is when it happens. My arm is swiped like a credit card through the butt cheeks of a sauced up lesbian in a hurry to dunk into the tub. That is when my Penthouse forum letter started. Dear Penthouse Letters, There I was surrounded by lesbians in a hot tub like the last steamy dumpling in a bowl of broth............Nothing happened, but those things are never real anyway. And that is when sleep got the better of me..........zzzzzz...