I write to you now from a AmericINN hotel in southern Indian. Blor and I have decided to drive to Las Vegas so he can commit suicide publicly using a chainsaw, and I see no reason to stop him. Needless to say I am bored and sitting in a weird and filthy hotel room. I thought then that would convey a Crossly story that, for legal reasons, I have been unable to publish until yesterday:
Some months ago Crossly and I had been arrested in Williamsburg for vagrancy and solicitation of what we took to be male prostitutes. When I arrived for our day in court I found Crossly wearing what could only be described as a “night shirt,” an extra large white t-shirt that barely covered his crotch (but not his ass). Printed on it was a picture of himself smiling above which were the words, in block letters, CONVICTED RAPIST.
I was furious, “What the hell are you wearing? You fool!”
Crossly turned to me and said, in a mock “woman’s” voice, “Didn’t you here? This is the new fashion in market.”
“You wear that inside you’ll get is both arrested for contempt of court!”
“No one tells Crossly what the fuck to do, nobody.”
“Then why the fuck are you here in the first place?”
He ignored me and we entered. Immediately there were horrified and disgusted gasps. An elderly woman vomited on herself an a bailiff attempted to tackle Crossly, but failed. After the melee settled the judge reprimanded us and called Crossly a “blight” on the human race. Throughout the lecture Crossly farted loudly and uncontrollably and were eventually convicted and sentenced to a month in prison.
