Fletcher Quill Chapter 110

"From the poetry of Lord Byron they drew a
system of ethics, compounded of misanthropy
And voluptuousness, a system in which the two
great commandments were, to hate your neighbor
And to love your neighbor’s wife..."
Lord Macalay 1800- 1859

It’s 4am backstage at the famed San Francisco Rock Blues Palace Fillmore West on Geary Street.

Home boy mad man number one Supremely high Fletcher Quill and his main inner court namely his Unholy Highness The Dali Lama, Keith Richards, new Pal disgraced Italian designer Johnny Galliano, and a host of dead and alive Chicago blues legends featuring Muddy Waters, Charlie Musselwhite, Buddy Guy, Jeff Taylor, Little Luther, are just wrapping up a long three hour set in which Quill played his very best key of G Old school Blues harp...

Suddenly the house lights go on and its fucking chaos, people screaming something about the "Ohio Straw Poll winner" (The Rage Queen!) Michele Bachman getting caught in the legendary Fillmore Blue Room having anal sex with our beloved Dali Lama!

Quill is moving fast and talking out of both sides of his cake hole!

"Oh man Dali Baby, you are the fucking man Son! Are you sure the whole nasty three and half minutes was cell phone video captured and uploaded to Fox Network and Bill O’Reilly?"

"Oh yes, I saw the little red cell phone recording video lights blinking in the reflection of Michele’s Bowtoxed eyes my friend.

Her fat round ass was soooo sweet and tight, oh my God, I have to hit that again and again Buddy. I’m a officially a "Back Door Man" Baby. The old Hershey Hiway, hey Quill."

"Oh my God a newly minted Monster has been christened here in Sin City by Dr. Wolfinstein and company.

One question my new fucking Idol. Did you do Sarah Pollen when she came to see me at the Supreme court last year you old Holy horse fucker, come on own up?"

"That’s the fact jack! Did both those fine old things. Sarah wiggled and screamed in joy my boy! She like getting her Gubinatory fudge packed.

Now have I immersed into Quill Culture or what Frisco Wolf?"

"I must say, awfully tough to argue that Dali Baby. So how exactly did you get the Rage Queen wet and nasty Unholy one?"

"It was her idea buddy, soon as the Hubby hit the Bar, her sweet hand was working the Holy organ my friend, comprende?

Lets do a few big bowls of my killer diller Hashish before you get back on stage. I think I’m getting the feel of this Tambourine thing.

Muddy Waters and Buddy Guy told me to keep my new killer silver star sun glass’s on, what do you say Quill?"

"Man, my main Unholy Man, welcome to the club Cowboy. Let us partake of the monster Bud while I get Johnny the Italian Stallion Galliano in on this nasty Moroccan Hash...

Hey Johnny, get your ass over here Son and hit this shit!"

All of a sudden its jealous whacked out hubby time at the famed Fillmore Rock Palace as Todd Pollen grabs the Dali Lama and before he can unload a slow right hand is stopped cold by none other then the fucking Glimmer Twin his damn self.

Keith throws little Alaska kiss ass Toddy into the girls rest room and commences to kick his punk ass until Quill called him off. A wonderful moment for American republicans’s, worthless mother fucker, Tea Bag this Bitches!!. By by Toddy.

"Keith, let him up Buddy! Toddy get your punky sad ass out of San Francisco and take that slut bitch with you, She is lucky Dali did her, cause none of us would Cowboy! Ta Ta Toddy!"

Chaos and his sisters Chance and Blind Luck arrive and its on, Hands and ancient feet fill the air as an old fashioned balls to the wall ass kicking gets underway very nicely.

Quill gets in a few choice spinning back kicks and puts poor Todd into a slow hard roll all the way down the Fillmore front steps on to the now berzerk late night Geary Street crowd.

Just as quickly Justice Quill pulls out his new gold Hohner Harp and with Muddy Waters and Buddy Guy goes straight into an old Door’s Robert Johnson classic, " Back Door Man"

"I eat more chicken any man ever seeeen, the men don’t know, but, the little girls understand, I’m a Back Door Man. Back Door Man. Oh Baby, I’m a Back Door Man... Blues Harp fucking wailing baby!"

"Dali baby, my new fucking hero! Better get Jimmy Ferguson on the Horn pronto Tonto, Jimmy will won’t a big chunk of this fast breaking nasty shit there Back Door Dali (BDD)...

Get my main man Drake on the line as well. Once the tabloids get this its Balls to Walls time Cowboys!

How many cell phone videos were shot we aren’t sure? Soo Dali was she moaning with orgasmic joy or asking you for campaign donations?"

"Actually, she was soo fucking high on amyl nitrate and my killer Hashish her panties never came off, just slipped that tiny pink string thing and went to work Son. Much like making a new wonderful Mandela out of our Colliding Precious Bodily Fluids(CPBF) if you get my Celestial Drift?

I love the way you planted that Alaska punk and rolled him down street. Too bad I never took it to the fucking blood thirsty heathen fucking genocidal Chinks hey Quilly!"

"Unholy Dude, little late to cry over spilt Yak Milk new Pilgrim...

Man, I just remembered all those fucking priceless feathers we just scored are sitting in the back seat of that F12 which is hopefully safe?

I’m going outside for air and check on my new baby."

When Quill hits the cold foggy San Francisco 4am air he catches a glimpse of Johnny Galliano and his Sweet Herd of Hot French Upper Class Bitches (SHHFUCB) passing the almighty pipe back and forth, so Quill strolls over and blends in like Rupert Murdock Wire Tap Baby (RMWTB)!

"Johnny, Lets hang out Mr. Fashionista falling star. This is my house, my crib, my world your standing in. Six generations of my DNA have been ejaculated here in the last 150 years my new friend."

"Yes, We understand your known as the Dark prince here much like Dracula was known in fucking Transylvania hey Mr. Supreme Court?

Maybe I drive your F12 and you relax in my Limo with my Bitches and do whatever moves you my friend. While I take a ride. We meet at your Penthouse near the Cliffhouse Ale House Ok?"

"Here is the code key. If you get stopped give the cop this card, my card, if you crash this beast, it will cost you $300,000, which I’m sure is lunch money right Johnny?

I want you to inlay some of these rare feathers in this box my new best friend. Are you reasonably fucking sober yet French Cowboy?" "I fly fish as well Mr. Fly, sober and anxious to hear those 800 horses awake!"

"My Penthouse address is programed into the F12 Drake tells me. Hit the G.P.S. and your in my driveway, the F12 is picked up via elevator into its secure garage.

Drake will take care of that. You have twenty minutes then the ignition will cut off my new Italian friend."

Quill and Dali lama retire to his Ocean side Penthouse and quickly begin sorting out the rare feathers into piles and then air clean and tag each container before being made ready for tying flies and streamers for the next fly fishing adventure coming up.

The Black Messiah has let it be known he is ready for another long fly weekend as the Republicans/ Tea Baggers have messed with his money and his mind one to many times of late.

He can smell the "Summers Eve" female hygiene odor coming from the White House private Pee - Pee Quarters"

"I hear the F12, Bring Johnny up , get him three fingers of that sweet 100 year old Cognac and let him pick out the Cuban Cigar he likes. You know the drill. Take a long look at the F12 and do a computer read out before he leaves."

"Quill, I love your Crib and the fucking View of the Pacific Ocean reminds me of Venice Italy in the sweet Fall last light when shadows mix and lovers kiss...

The F12 has emancipated my soul. My people will measure your seats and side panels for the rare red Python skins I will install before going back home."

"So Johnny what is next for you, the lost Highway is desolate my new Italian Pal. Know your ATM is fat and rebuilding your reputation is possible but unlikely!"

"Artist must never expect regular people to truly fathom the creative mind. When I alluded to Hitler for instance is was only in the grand literary metaphorical use of the word.

Alas, in my case my reputation is not good and I deserve much of the criticism just like my old friend, Berlusconi who still Lord bless him eats Birthday Cake off 18 year olds sweet perfect behinds!"

"Lately my friend it seems to my ancient eyes and libido all things and everything centers around a perfect female ass, is that not the case your once awfully high Unholyness?"

"It is so..."

Life has been reduced to the absolute common denominator!