Like to See Her Fuck

Snow White.
The big guns! HA! I don't know why I go to her, I really don't. She's sweet as candy, but she's not that effective when it comes to knowing things. Or shortcuts to things. The people at the Box had some skills. They knew how to cauterize wounds with a hot knife, start a car with some chewing gum, diffuse a bomb with dental floss. They had skills. They always amazed you with what they knew, right off the top of their heads. They were social workers.

I don't know what to think of Snow White. I go down there, and I see her behind her desk, so I walk to her office, and she waves me in. The minute that I walk in there is this pungent smell. I don't make a face but go blank with my features. It smelled like cat piss. That sharp urine smell of feline urination. I take a seat, looking about for the little motherfucker.

"So, what can I do for you, Hobobob?" Well, I need one of those Enhanced IDs from the state, but I'm having a hard time collecting the proofs to get them. "Well, I do know that you need to have a certain amount and type of proofs to get it." Didn't I just say that. The cat piss is bothering me. "Let me see," she stares into the screen of her computer. Here I'm thinking that she is looking into her hard drive files. No. She is surfing the web, heading to the DMV site. "Yeah, you need six proofs that work on a point system. Six points worth of proofs."

She prints shit out of her printer and hands it over to me. It's the same exact shit that I have piling up on my bed. How helpful is that? She takes a seat, smiling. "All you need to do is get what's on that list and go down to DMV on 34th street, and get your license." Just that easy, I say to myself. "Can I help you with anything else?" I think I'm done here, Snow, thanks for all the help. "Hey, don't mention it."

She is completely wasted on porn. She should be a pornstar, because she sure missed every other calling, especially social worker. Personally, I would like to see her naked ass fuck.

I hit the Way after that and rode downtown to my therapist session, and sat down before Dr. K. She has a real comfortable office. The lights are always turned down, and it's very much like how I like to keep The Space Pod. Very dark, not much light, comfortable. It takes one away from all the cares and stresses of the day. Outrageous neon lights, bright light on always in the home, bright sunny homes with huge windows. This will drive you crazy over time. I mean, the sun is an important star, but remember, we came out of caves, with large sticks in our hands. When the sun rose, we reluctantly left the darkness of the cave to go out into it. Some of us are moved by the moon. I know that there are Sun worshipers, and more power to them, but I worship the moon god, Sin in ancient Babylon.

I used to have a night time job. I used to watch systems all night and bring them back up for a fortune 500 company. Before that, I was a security guard on the night shift. I loved the night shift. I'm up now past 1:30am and I'm still going strong.

But I'm digressing. I went to Dr. K. and I cranked and complained. I moaned and groaned. I talked about my shit, getting more and more comfortable with her. What do I share with her? Well, basically what I blast off on this blog. The problems that I'm having with HRA....who I'm thinking on naming Simon Bar-Cylinder. It's an evil name from my past. I believe he was the bad guy that was always after Underdog. You probably don't know what the fuck I'm talking about. Either that or the Dark Empire, which works better if you ask me. HRA, the Dark Empire. OHHH, or how about the BORG COLLECTIVE, because it's full of those fucking things that look like they're human, but their actually chopped up people with no brains.

I think I like that one best. I christen thee, THE BORG COLLECTIVE.

So, I left Dr. K and head home to a late night. I know that. The sun has gone down but once i get onto his novel, it will be creeping back up into the sky. I know it. I've lived this a thousand times. Today I need to go and see my favorite Doc...Doc. A. The man is a fucking genius, did I ever tell you that?

I think I'm going to like blogging about the Borg Collective in the coming weeks.

God do I want to see the end of them. But they are too powerful to curl up and die. I'm just a mighty wave crashing up against the shores of the seas. Constantly trying to go further, but being held back by my own weight.

Constantly trying, always held back.

Man, would I like to see that woman fuck.

Hobobob