cocktails with dirty five cakes!!

i once met this gentle giant named dirty.... five cakes.

we crossed paths at bar in a small town outside of santa monica or somewhere in the Philippines, but anyway it felt like south jersey sometime in 79 (ill confirm next week).

he was an ant farmer who invented fargo mayo (yes... fargo mayo), he had been a peeper for centuries and was about to retire. he was swift but with nervous hands. like a swiveling jackhammer, he was, and too sharp for his own good.

he was dancing with jack catch and the ferocious five, they were all rippers and lovers (not like kind you find at saturday night cosmic bowling, but the kind you would find picking up trash on the side of the road). not a care in the world and nothing to lose.

he was drinking cake from a four year old coconut chalice, it felt like robbery but it was real.
we caught glares from across the way, and he began to woooo...... wooooooo. i thought he was vomiting but he was cross-pollinating all over the place, and it was enchanting. he made me feel like honey dew (all green and soggy, and half way to good. possibly fair)

three jolly ranchers later, i found myself pushing daisy's in a swiss cheese colored ford pinto. i was bit lost but it all made sense (thats when everything became dangerous). we were being chased by a samurai sailor driving a miniature giraffe with carnage caught in his nose hairs. we speed up and our gypsy began screaming at us binary code.

the samurai chased us through several golden girls episodes. just when i thought we were gonna get swallowed up, he fell into a pool and we found shelter under a cherry tree in the middle of a gravel pit.
we were safe then, he tried to reconstruct me into a communist party, but i had to decline. his romance was magical but couldn't look me in the eyes. i smelled his fargo mayo and his stale cake breath. i don't remember what happened but they left me out in a field of dreams with an extra small compass.

i felt scammed, but i wouldn't have had it any other way. i made it back to that bar to close out my tab and there we was necro-mancing with a bunch of reindeer, he went back to peeping in the worst kind of way. he went back on his word and left with more cake to shotgun.

i saw him again several years later working at an ihop, he looked like an alcoholic ronald mcdonald. he was reckless to boot and still had nothing. but i will never forget the time we had found passion fruit in that ball pit of stone. i will never look at the stars the same and i probably wont ever go swimming.

damn you five cakes.... damn you dirty.