My life in the bush of dopes
Boy Footy
Back in 1939 I was lucky enough to have been adopted by the master magician Houdini. I'm the one sitting between Houdini and the cowboy. I'm holding my penis. My nick name was George but they called me Footy. We were all part of the 'Goldstein Family Circus'. The guy with the stick is Mr. Goldstein. I was born into the circus. My real father was a stake driver and my Mother is the tall one in the back. No Parking.
One of my jobs in the circus was to lock up Houdini. I'd do it in the nude with my feet. Adds to the excitement. People love watching nude kids lock up Houdini's with their feet. Always a crowd pleaser. Of course back then nude boys in the circus wasn't a bad thing. These days you'd have to wear a bra.
My real Father left the circus in 1928. He wanted a shorter wife. He wandered the globe for 80 years until he found his true love. Rue Hall. Meanwhile my Mother and I got along on knats and flys. Being 8 feet tall my Mother was always able to have the first crack at flys. Plus she wore a shit hat so that helped. Of course Mr. Houdini adopted me shortly after my Father left. He was 5 foot 7.
About 6 months after my father left, my mother had a baby girl. Helen was her nick name. Her real name was 'Godsolehay, Open Wound Flying Baby of the North'. She did a one woman show on Saturdays. Noon to 5. I was her scraper.
After Mr. Houdini did his first water torture bit in 1891, he killed my mother and buried her in a shallow grave in Buckeye Arizona. Right next to the Cash & Carry. I couldn't blame him. She ate a monkey.
People from around the world came to my rescue. They wanted me to leave my adopted Father Houdini. They wanted me to lock up different people with my feet. Or become President. Instead I stayed on the road with my Father. We played at clip joints, bath houses and Bob's Big Boys across the nation. He did card tricks and I started fires. We burned our way from Maine to New Hampshire. No harm no foul.
In 1942 my father died. He was hit by a plane. I was up for adoption again. This time there were lots of volunteers. They waited for me outside my hotel bedroom chanting, "Michael, Michael. I hung my sister over the rail, and there he was. As soon as our eyes met I knew it was him. My new father. Johnnie Carson.
Today I work on the train. Making coffee with my bare feet. I ride the Coast Starlight. My sister gives flu shots to the young and dying. She's married and has 18 kids. Her husbands name is Car Lot.
Well that's my story. Life's been good. See you on the train.
Back in 1939 I was lucky enough to have been adopted by the master magician Houdini. I'm the one sitting between Houdini and the cowboy. I'm holding my penis. My nick name was George but they called me Footy. We were all part of the 'Goldstein Family Circus'. The guy with the stick is Mr. Goldstein. I was born into the circus. My real father was a stake driver and my Mother is the tall one in the back. No Parking.
One of my jobs in the circus was to lock up Houdini. I'd do it in the nude with my feet. Adds to the excitement. People love watching nude kids lock up Houdini's with their feet. Always a crowd pleaser. Of course back then nude boys in the circus wasn't a bad thing. These days you'd have to wear a bra.
My real Father left the circus in 1928. He wanted a shorter wife. He wandered the globe for 80 years until he found his true love. Rue Hall. Meanwhile my Mother and I got along on knats and flys. Being 8 feet tall my Mother was always able to have the first crack at flys. Plus she wore a shit hat so that helped. Of course Mr. Houdini adopted me shortly after my Father left. He was 5 foot 7.
About 6 months after my father left, my mother had a baby girl. Helen was her nick name. Her real name was 'Godsolehay, Open Wound Flying Baby of the North'. She did a one woman show on Saturdays. Noon to 5. I was her scraper.
After Mr. Houdini did his first water torture bit in 1891, he killed my mother and buried her in a shallow grave in Buckeye Arizona. Right next to the Cash & Carry. I couldn't blame him. She ate a monkey.
People from around the world came to my rescue. They wanted me to leave my adopted Father Houdini. They wanted me to lock up different people with my feet. Or become President. Instead I stayed on the road with my Father. We played at clip joints, bath houses and Bob's Big Boys across the nation. He did card tricks and I started fires. We burned our way from Maine to New Hampshire. No harm no foul.
In 1942 my father died. He was hit by a plane. I was up for adoption again. This time there were lots of volunteers. They waited for me outside my hotel bedroom chanting, "Michael, Michael. I hung my sister over the rail, and there he was. As soon as our eyes met I knew it was him. My new father. Johnnie Carson.
Today I work on the train. Making coffee with my bare feet. I ride the Coast Starlight. My sister gives flu shots to the young and dying. She's married and has 18 kids. Her husbands name is Car Lot.
Well that's my story. Life's been good. See you on the train.
posted by Some Guy at 2/22/2005 11:55:00 AM
1 Comments:
I've done that clip joint, bath house, Bob's Big Boy circuit too, its really fucked
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