Warning: Miran's latest post! (Click to show)
I go there. A short stocky Mexican woman opens the door. Over her maid's uniform she is wearing a very tight "Romney 2012: Latinas contra la Obama-nación" t-shirt. She announces me: "Mr Stanley, jou hev a visitOr."
The air was unbreathably heavy with pot. Stanley van Buren was lying on his imitation-Saarinen womb chair and ottoman and had clearly been drinking. He was at no pains to conceal this disturbing descent into alcoholism. There was also a heavy whiff of acetone from a back corner of the apartment. I couldn't see but a woman was yapping on the phone, every other word was "like" and "and like, totally" and "and it was, like, so awesome" and "and I was, like, whatever"...
Stanley van Buren says: "I've been expecting you. What can I do for you?"
Before I could reply, "Es-coose me", the Latina said...I turned around and moved out of her way, she had her arms full clearing away 2 empty bottles of Jim Beams Black, a shaker and 3 other glasses.
I turned around, but Stanley van Buren had passed out.
I figured this was not working...I was getting no where with my appeal and Stanley van Buren so I left. I had to be careful the ban-migra didn't catch me on my way home...they shoot to delete and kill.
Quoted for posterity