Thoracic Animus (12)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (12)"
   
   The inter-dimensional, circular-shaped craft landed, and Harry, him naming himself such, after having watched Harry and the Hendersons on the World Wide Web, departed from his alien vehicle, stepping onto the Eastern Dakota Earth with his big feet, and shouted, it meaning:  "Happy Easter!!!"
   He didn't understand why nobody was reading the Bible anymore.  Especially about Jacob and Esau, for Esau is the Hairy Man, while Jacob had smooth skin.  And while Harry liked both brothers, he did like manscaping guys, such as Robert Palmer, Arthur Herbert Fonzarelli, and Jack Kerouac in his camel-haired coat.  These guys were sharp-dressed men.
   But Harry wasn't depressed, loving himself, and hoping a bionic Steve Austin was not waiting for him in the woods.  But his on-board computer said only Mutt, his Uncle, and Tanya were nearby; thus, knowing they were semi-benevolent types, just garden-variety hicks more or less, he decided to make contact, though knew he'd have to teleport away quickly if a crossbow bolt came in his direction, not wanting to be like Saint Joan of Arc and get hit by such a violent weapon that could bring down a Grizzly.  

You know what Ol' Jack Burton always says...

Thoracic Animus (11)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (11)"
  
   Tanya followed Mutt back to his campfire, where his Uncle was lubricating the crossbows--him still in heavy anticipation concerning bagging a Squatch.  Mutt introduced his Uncle to Tanya, and the threesome sat, making coffee mixed with cloves for the sanitary effects within their corporeal aspects; next, the conversation did shine, like the big neon glitter above.

TANYA
So, Mr. Uncle--why are you hunting Bigfoot?

UNCLE
Hell, just for the kicks, and to be famous, like William Blake wanted.  The poet got it in the end, after dying a penniless old man considered a crank.

TANYA
You sound kinda on the crank spectrum.

UNCLE
Thanks.  And hell, I'm a Yankee, but I understand the metaphysics of Uncle Jesse and them Duke boys.

TANYA
Always liked Boss Hog myself.  He dressed like Faulkner and Twain; plus, Colonel Sanders.  

MUTT
I could really go for some chicken.

TANYA
Grilled or crispy?

MUTT
I don't have the digestive tract of a coyote, so I'd go with grilled, and some salt, pepper, and turmeric.

TANYA
Damn dude--that sounds nasty.  Need mine fried--deep fried.

UNCLE
How would you like your Hairy Man cooked?

TANYA
Ain't hunting him to eat him old timer.  Just want him to talk, and have him tell me, at least, the fundamentals of Earthly existence.

   Mutt pondered his crappy, bizarre life.  But it was Holy Saturday, and Jesus LIGHTS it ALL up.  

INXS - Jimmy Barnes - Good Times (Live)

Thoracic Animus (10)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (10)"
   
   Leaving his depressed dog with his Uncle @ the campfire, Mutt went into the woods to drain the lizard; moreover, his urethra was more relaxed in nature as his negative blood did not pick up on the vibrations of a frequently cruel society.  After zipping up, he spotted a lovely lass, her zipping up as well, after a female squat, underneath the smooth shimmer of a waning Pink Moon; next, the conversation sparked.

MUTT
Hello, my name's Mutt.  What are you doing out here, young lady?

TANYA
I'm Tanya, sucka.  And I'm hunting me some Hairy Man--don't want to stuff him--just to give me some answers.  You see, the world calls me a freak.  My Dad was from Ivory Coast, and my Mom an American with Irish/French roots.  Bigfoot has been harassing my beautiful gel, and I want some answers out of his hairy ass.

MUTT
I'm not the shiniest coin in the fountain; thus, I'm just tagging along with my Uncle.  Don't wanna kill nothing, just love my depressed dog.  I'm half Mohawk and half Serbian.  Nobody in America likes the American Indian, and if you're born on our soil, well, everybody then is a Native American, but my Chief doesn't drink the Kool-Aid.  

TANYA
They call me an Aunt Tom at times.  But I'm more mixed than Johnny Depp's fourth drink from room service, before he trashes the hotel room.

MUTT
It sounds like we might get along.  If you like depressed dogs.

TANYA
Can the dog hunt?

MUTT
All he does is cry.  And I feed him organic dog food.  I'm so lost.

TANYA
Maybe you just made a friend.  

Thoracic Animus (9)

   
   "Thoracic Animus (9)"
   
   The boys in the backwoods of Tennessee had severe animus concerning American, pseudo-local law in Tennessee, saying:  "Boy, California ain't shit.  We got the best herb growing in the backwoods of Tennessee."  And Mutt didn't need it for his colonoscopy--his fifth, but only to hunt Hairy Man, that sum bitch (the sum of all bitches), harassing the Six Million Dollar Man, him being worth more than millions since the 1970's, like a few billion in these here years.  And 3-D printing and nanotechnology; plus, all that curvaceous android crap is the TECHNOLOGY of angels fallen, or gremlins within; regardless, Eisenhower and Jackie Gleason with Nixon know how to use it, resonating from a celestial grave, being reborn or not, but affecting.  "Junior, remind me to punch your mama in the mouth when I get home."
   So, Mutt's crazy Uncle wanted a Hairy Man pelt, but Bigfoot is a tricky bastard, and does he like bananas?  That's the real question--is he ape, or beyond?  Tarzan knows not, but he had the blade--steel, and the apes retreated.
   If only Iron Man drank plenty of his alcoholism and defeated Doctor Doom properly, once and for all, with a Four's Fantastic help, though the Human Torch is blonde and beautiful, as is his sister, and yes, gentleman prefer blondes, even watching Marilyn Monroe catch horses for dog food.
   But nothing compares to the innocent essence of adolescent cruel, like S. E. Hinton, knowing the minds of teenage boys, as she was a teenage girl, knowing Pony Boy doesn't pester pussy, but respects it, giving it dignity, and do I sound dirty, but filth is found in the paradox of placing grenades in holy places, if that holy place wants to behead and kill.  Pride is rebellion against God.  Who are you to be proud, when you forged not yourself into existence?  Therefore, be pleased with God, and follow the true Law, or your land is absolutely absent.
   Mutt saw a Bigfoot, but wearing a rabbit's foot around its neck, he couldn't crossbow it.  His Uncle went:  "Shit Mutt.  We could've bagged a Bigfoot buddy."
   Mutt didn't care.  Let live and let love.  

Guns n´Roses - 14 years (lyrics)