Friday, December 5, 2014

Gum Stories

The world might or might not care what I am chewing on right now.  That could be intimated about anything and anywhere.  Someone might insinuate who-the-fuck-knows.  Maybe this is important.  This could be some fucked, doomed form of unrecognized science.  I'm chewing a bright red ball of cherry soda flavored bubble gum..  

It's another chapter of experience shopping at the Dollar Tree store in Westview, Pennsylvania.  The one inch diameter spherese of red bubble gum, fairly hard on the outside, busting loose within upon penetration, some lubricious confectionery food porn, this red, red gum fizzes.  It says in festive fun fest lettering on the three point five ounce bag, "Fizzers...fizzing bubble gum."  

Underneath, it says, ":fizzes when you chew."   It does, and is.  As a ball of gum gives up it's fizz, and expends it's shotgun load of fake cherry flavor, there is sensuality such as is tolerated world wide when people are getting off on their food.  Funny how it's illegal to fuck in public, but you can eat all the fuck you want, anywhere.

I am indulging the senses, once again, in my private Valhalla, the NorthSide zone of Perryhilltop.  Fizzers are sailing the ships that transport my cardboard soul.  My cellophane travel balloons, lofting from the bottle cap of burning kerosene, are rising into the dark plastic sky.  This gum is greater than all delicacies gorged by Ancient Egyptians.  

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