02.02.02 - 10:54 p.m. - The Midnight Ride of Moonie and Me

in a past life, i was a hitchhiker.

i was walkin down the highway and i stuck my thumb out for this great big truck that looked like it was gonna zoom by, but at the last possible second it slowed for me.

and so's i get in and says "thank ye, jack" and the driver has on this face like he's just been told to put $50 in the hole when he's no good at poker. "my name isn't jack" he said "you can call me moonie" and so's i did. i said "moonie, you are one hell of a man" and he said nothing.

now, dear reader, o diaryphiliac, you must believe me when i say there is nothing worse in the world than cruelty in a man or a woman. i learnt the truth in those words the moment i fell into sleep. i was tired from a day's walking, and i did not expect to have my thumbs taken away so quickly.

i awoke to find myself with no thumbs at all left on me, not even in my backpocketses. i cried out "moonie what have you done with my digits, you crazy bastard" and he laughed and said "boy, you are yet young in this world, and do not know of what i do for fun. some like jazz and some like hunting, but i like taking thumbs away from hooligans like you" and upon that he completed his plan and kicked me out of his semi.

i cursed moonie for my troubles, and i think he heard me. i had not a stump to suck on, a bump on my head, and most importantly not a thumb to hitch a hike with.

i put out fist after fist and waved palm after palm with jumps and leaps but it was no good. only THUMBS are capable of thumbing a ride, let no one deceive you into thinking otherwise.

and then i died in a roadside ditch the way Old Man Moonie wanted me to.

the end.

troz - diaryland - zort