Jazzmin Flush (60)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (60)" 

   Jazzmin Flush and Merlin Pope became engrossed in the non-fiction of their bizarre lives--Jazzmin confessing her unborn daughter, weeping with great regret, and Merlin offering up his inability to gel and merrily mesh with fine women.
   
MERLIN
A bit androgynous, not as tall or hairy as Magnum P.I. either; thus, I will never be a big hunk of a man as might a snobby landlord announce; regardless, contacted a guy on the holo-vid, I just want communication.  Moreover, to be properly steered in the arms of an adoring 40ish lady that won't compete with me.  A traditional relationship, man and woman playing love.  But all I get is stabbed in the back, and I do stupid things, not physically, but with communication.  There's a nice lady who serves the dumplings and noodles at CHINA MING.
   
JAZZMIN
Why do we all have problems?  So, you feel guilty and were going to punish or off yourself?

MERLIN
Why not?  Who am I?

JAZZMIN
You are a cool guy Mr. Pope.  I know this coydog named Rascal, and she's nothing but a pill.  Crap, she's probably proud of being raunchy, when she decides to be raunchy that is--and it's plenty of the time.  Look, just embrace your passions, don't spill your guts about love with anybody--reserve it for where your treasure chest is; next, where your treasure is, so is your heart also.  And don't wimp out on me.  I think you and my Dad would be good friends.  The two of you could pick up some ladies, or whatever it is old men do.  I dunno.
  
MERLIN
I'll lift my head then Jazzmin.  And as for your friend Rascal--you never know with a coydog--they're the weirdest.
   

Union Blue--introspection and a wackadoodle

   
   "Union Blue--introspection and a wackadoodle"  
   
   Step-Daddy, Carolina forged, when things are labor-oriented--he declares with swift, militaristic plan to sweep the debris:  "Boy--we gotta grease this goose."  Or perhaps dandy days with NASCAR and Bud Heavy flowing:  "Boy--we're in high cotton."  Regardless, absorbing everything Southwards as commands heavy empathy, what to do but gleefully vent with dynamic ditty, remembering:  babe crowned in a symmetrical explosion of girly curls, and tough.  Here goes:
   
Woman--you just so girly curl fine--
Punch me in the throat if I get out of line!

You got scald; you got grit--
I'm all about your life-giving tit--
I ain't uncouth in vulgar way;
I just know what I want, and I want what I say--
So thank your stars I hung the moon;
The coyotes are calling for a waxing boon.

Woman--you just so girly curl fine--
Punch me in the throat if I get out of line!  

Jazzmin Flush (59)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (59)"
   
   With fervor for California comfort food in the furious future, Jazzmin Flush ordered "in" some fish and chips, ornamented with softly mild salsa and crowned with sea salt and cracked pepper gelling atop fresh parsley.  She had the matriarchal mojo to feed Mr. Merlin Pope.  All the dandy dudes she knew were so darn slender, and she sweetly hoped that her severely muscular legs weren't intimidating these meagerly yet macho men she hung out with--them all illuminated by some sort of spirit.  So, the food arrived, and it was hot.  Jazzmin sat on a somewhat clean floor, hardwood, while Merlin remained gimpy in his misplaced chaise lounge.
  
MERLIN
This is nice--my sweet Jazzmin.
  
JAZZMIN
Thanks Mr. Pope--I used to work on a taco truck, and food can be inexpensive yet healthy.  Salsa is fortified with lycopene, and parsley, besides being the king of garnish desires decent digestion; moreover, fish is swimming in Omega oils, and the chips--well, some say that they might increase bodily inflammation, but they were cooked in olive oil and onion powder, if that matters.  I read all my food labels.
  
MERLIN
Jazzmin Flush--you intrigue me.  I know that I'm an asymmetrical creature; nevertheless--I must ask:  "Are you seeing anybody?"
  
JAZZMIN
Buster--yup.  And he's totally a big, bad wolf.  Actually no--he's really nice, like white cotton candy with teeth.

Union Blue--a very personal, underground song

   
   "Union Blue--a very personal, underground song"   
   
   Mercury delivery--me--not a garden-variety mortal, yet an organic form of man, John Barleycorning my nightshade after laboring at the local newspaper, regally rising from a pimple-faced paperboy to a merciful manager with a shaggy goatee and creeping out all the pseudo-ladies.   Anyway, my Country Boss told me:  "Boy--there ain't nothing better than walking barefoot on a plantation of naked titties."  Ahem--here's the ditty--total writing time:  1 minute and 39 seconds.
   
Slinging papers under crescent moon glow,
Down in the South sending insight to the crow;
I came across a coyote laying dead on the road,
Took a look'n at his spirit and my shy did erode--
Talking to the ladies with couth in my glass--
No greedy hand-grabbing but glances at the ass--
Adore the pubs and every domestic bar
That tolerates with love my Yankee bizarre.  

Jazzmin Flush (58)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (58)"  
  
   Jazzmin Flush didn't have time to be petty concerning a stepdame's pretentious persona; specifically, the L.A. Derelict had sent her on a labor-like duty--to forge an obituary on a living guy, but he would soon perish in cruel fashion as did dictate a cursed circumstance.  His guy name was Merlin Pope, and he wasn't to give his complete story--not yet.  Jazzmin Flush was imperatively instructed to only ask a few questions, take meticulous notes, and craft a literary brainstorm.  She entered a dilapidated shanty, near where Girthy Gilda used to reside, and wending further within, she found Merlin Pope reclining on a chaise lounge, looking a bit lime-green.   
   
MERLIN
You must be Miss Jazzmin Flush--what a quintessential California girl you are.  A flowing, golden mane, and very hearty thighs.  Please sit down.
  
JAZZMIN
Are you hitting on me--being uncouth?

MERLIN
I'm dead in the loins--not even your curvaceous physicality could resurrect my blood flow.
   
JAZZMIN
So, what's the scoop Mr. Pope?
  
MERLIN
Born under a shimmering, beautiful blade.  Carved like a jive turkey from my mother's obedient womb; next, placed in incubation--cooked to life, more or less.  Growing into a skittish coyote, androgynous in face and body, yet athletic and goofy.  I had no chance.  My greatest destiny is death.
  
JAZZMIN
I'm sorry.  Really.  I know some low people--low in a sublime way.  Why does life have to suck so much?  Doesn't God know--we've already been tested.
  
MERLIN
Plus, immune problems.  That's all I'll say save--don't ever indulge in a romantic dinner with a hungry lass who ingests lobster bisque and doesn't brush her teeth before carnal play--if you do, or if I did, and I did--you'll get a monstrous case of epididymitis.  
  
   Jazzmin Flush sat on the edge of Merlin Pope's chaise lounge.  Jazzmin wept.   

Remembering: WEREWOLF BY NIGHT

   
   "Remembering:  WEREWOLF BY NIGHT"
   
Name:  Jack Russell--more or less . . .

First Arrival:  1972--Marvel Spotlight #2
  
Hangs Out With:  Legion of Monsters & Night Shift
   
Talents:  Hard to kill by conventional means; however, items with silver sublimity might slay.
  
Too:  Full Moon Fury morphs him into a hybrid of human and wolf--intellect replaced with fangs, fur, and fright.

Appearing:  Early 1970's and into the Carter Administration; plus, WEREWOLF BY NIGHT spawns one of Moon Knight's first manifestations of his mystic self. 
  

Union Blue--a very underground and android song

   
   "Union Blue--a very underground and android song"
   
   Got poured a Bud Heavy, me:  Heavy with empathy, and she oozed carnal sophistication, and I ran to the Saints, happy for God's sense of EVERYTHING STYLE, and I'm grateful for the divine differences, that asymmetrical mix of man; plus, got a confederate-loving kin; hence, what needs to be penned with pulsating purpose:  CONFEDERATE CYBORG CHIMPANZEE, or better:  TRIPLE C!    Heston on the pony, well-groomed generals, and the mystical mix of simplistic man submitting to the machine gods.  It will happen, sometime, place, or where . . .
  
  Here's the dubious ditty:
   
The South don't brave none android galore--
Give me a "for sure" Carolina girl;
She's a bit more fleshy with organic jugs,
And I don't give no artificial consciousness country hugs,
Resisting them Yankees pushing the Queen--
Her forged with pride that ain't spiritually clean--
I love my Dixie and all the dogs;
I voted for a President who called them Hogs!