I was just South of Tucson (Pronounced Tuuk-Mama-San) sitting in the last Shroake n’ Froake diner in all of North America. It was a typical greasy, shitty diner with flies buzzing around the rancid, sweaty, sweet-hot vaginas of the dirty-hot old 50-something waitresses. Ah the reek of festering ancient snatchamundo!
Ah fair Arizona!
I had been asleep 😴 the entire time. My face flat on the greasy counter of the Shroake n’ Froake! I was awakened by the slap of the unshaven mustachioed hideous cross-dressing ‘waitress’.
”Wake up gorgeous, what ya having?” He/she’s said in a gravelly voice.
”Uh… well I’ll have some of the hideous, *hot* hairy transvestite… I mean the ham n’ eggs 🍳. I mean the sloppy Joe!”
”Ok, wit’ da usual glass of OJ? 🥤 Snookums?”
”Yeah… That too.”
The waitress puffed her/his nasty 🤢 cigar and winked 😉. He adjusted his massive sweaty granny-panties and put in the order to the terrifying parolee-serial-killer kitchen staff.
I was on the trail of the gritty, grizzled, haggard pulp writer BPL.
A man who sounded remarkably like Sam Elliott sidled up next to me.
”You must be the one they call the Botendaddy. America’s most feared anonymous literary critic. You never met a non-passable, hairy, del.ic.io.us transvestite you didn’t like.”
”Well I did once drive ‘truck’ (Pronounced Southwestern singular plural) Carefree Highway, Route 66, Sloppy Joe’s and non-passable cross-dressing truck stop hookers. Pure Americana at its best. Yessiree Bob.”
”I heard tell a rumor that BPL is up in the High Sierras near Los Trenzados Pass, somewheres up in Inyo. He’s running some kind of a spiritual guru group up there. Something about people paying thousands to get naked and worship around a giant stone phallus (Pronounced Philatelist)”
”Then I’ve got to mosey on up there and see for myself. I’m on assignment for the Caven Courier. The phony government front newspaper designed to spy on Vegan 🌱 Unitarians ⛪ and followers of Martin Büber.“
“Well good luck son, that place is heavily guarded like a Hyperborean snake 🐍 tower.”
I jumped into my ‘69 VW bus 🚌 and I was off. Headed acrosst the desert into the High Sierras.