Stories of art & elephants. John Elephantski. John elepantski, on the
heaven trip with the arcane angels of engines. English engines,
anglines, longlines angling for angels -- baiting the hook with a
sinner in trouble. Angels can't fuckin resist! And ooo do they fry up
nice. This is why you see so few angels these days. Like Bigfoot,
they've learned to fear man, and minister mainly to the animals. Like
the dinosaurs, they're delicious. Hence their quick reduction and
unsurprising disappearance. Like orange roughy.

Snowfall in heaven and angels in hell, angels slumming in hell and
heaven, angels slumming in heaven and hell and in the southside
jukejoints of Chicago. Slumming in the juke joints. Slumming in the
lo-ball lounge. Lonely in the lowball lounge. Lounge Jesus with the juke
jesters. Testers of the low-ball slummery baby. Frippery and flummery
with the flummoxry relations. The flummoxed schoolboys and schoolbars.
Schoolboys and barbells and the weight sluts.

Everybody gets excited at Halloween. The boys get lustful and the girls
get irritable. The reason being that Candy, upright and prim to a fault
under ordinary circumstances, always halloweens as a whore...a fully
functioning whore. Meaning she disappears into the back bedroom
repeatedly through the night. And on All Saints Day...well, last Nov.
1st she drove home that evening in a Maserati.