Fletcher Quill Chapter 114

"An admirable evasion of a whoremaster man, To lay his goatish disposition to the charge of a star!"
Shakespeare; King Lear

It is surely the destiny of a handful of mortal men to lead lives in the Ether where reason and logic are exempt, replaced with carnal adventures solidly grounded on the highest standards established by those citizens of Man Town and their most excellent legacy...

Fletcher Quill and his regular crew are mid Atlantic Ocean 40 thousand feet rolling and tumbling as Quill’s new best Pal Johnny Galliano and his bare ass naked flight crew are pouring vintage French Champaign and listening to Quill and Keith Richards absolutely annihilate , several ‘ Almond Brothers classic’s, "Tied To The Whipping Post" "Midnight Rider" and killing with Greg Allman’s sweetest "Good Morning Little School girl".

"Man, can’t get my mind round the fucking Dali lama Dude? Way he dress’s now and his whole manner! Listen man just got call from that fool running his dumb ass for President Mr. Trick Perry can’t remember how many fucking Supreme Court Justices?

It ain’t 8 Mother Fucker Moron (MFM). He just text me asking for three pounds of Dali’s best shit? You wanna talk to this fool Quill?"

"Can’t be disturbed! Sell him some Hashish and blow him off, fucking imbicile! So Dali his old lady has a very sweet fat little ass Buddy!? Johnny how long till we get close to Italian air space Cowboy?

"Quill another cell call for you Flyman. It’s your girl Sugar Tits Buddy!!"

"Sugar Tits Baby! Too long your gone. Look I got another great high paying gig for you and your Stripper Pole Install Bizzz Sugar!

My new main Italian man Johnny Galliano needs one of your nasty poles installed in Milan crib. I’m in the air near Italy as we speak. Catch a first class ride with your Install Bitches and meet me in Milan Baby, comprende"

"Quill you are the nastiest old man I know Boy! Miss that Big Ten Inch Meat Man! (BTIMM) Italy sounds fucking scrumptious Mr. Nasty. Just left Tom Cruse the 4 foot 8 wonder boy. His new movie sucks Moroccan Pee.

Mission unfeasible is dead already before release DOA! He is a little punk, but I did fuck his tiny brains out after the Stripper Pole Install. Heard bout the Dali Lama doing the Presidential Wanna Be Bitches,(PWBB!!) Nice!

Tell Dali he may get lucky and get a small chunk of my perfect bootyyy when I get to Italy. Remember when we did the Pope. His stripper pole needs a tune up and complete disinfect by now hey Quilly! Get all those little nine year old boys finger prints erased before his Hauge Trail"

"Can’t wait to lick you from head to toe Baby! Hungry for you G friend."

"Quill Dude, must be something in the air other then killer Hashish, The fucking Head Child Molester in Chief (FHCMIC) a.k.a. The Pope is on your private cell Buddy. We have to conference this call Pal. Listen your lowness we are putting you on Speaker Phone Sir..."

THE POPE

"What up nasty white boys from lower reaches of my personal Hell! Dali Baby, you been hitting any more rear tang Rear Admiral? I’m sitting here on Saint Pete’s Basssilaca with a sweet little ten year old in green corduroys.

How fucking Papal is that Dali Baby, before I get all Vatacany you have to send me another six pounds of that insane Black Afghani lama you hear me Holy Man?"

"Go fuck yourself Papal fucking Michael Jackson... Quill wants you to call Sugar Tits as she is Italy bound and wants to clean and tune up your Stripper Pole Holy Man."

"Oh yeah Sugar Tits is so fucking sweet. If I dug Chicks I could do that Chex Bitch. Has Dali done any Astronaut work on her hiny hey Dali you fucking pervert!!"

"Fuck you asshole, I know your all wrapped up in the special Christmas Mass Bullshit. I miss making Holiday Mandelas back in my Tibet Monastery, but, what the fuck.

No pussy in Tibet for Holy Men boys... Pope have you ever considered taking up fly fishing and giving up your pathetic perverted ways asshole?"

"Yeah, mother fucker once upon a Holy Man! Quill and his fly fishing tying and river playing does sound kinda cool, maybe I’ll go on your next trip Mr. Supreme Court?"

"Fuck the Supreme Court, when I get back from this trip I’m court bound and off to more fly fishing. I may call you and have you meet us Pope?"

"Boys with the fucking Euro exploding and all this Bullshit Christmas Mass shit I’m way too stressed out. How long till that Hashish gets to the Vatican Dali?"

"Over nite delivery costs more Pope Baby! Relax we have your habit covered Holy Cowboy. How about a special copy of Danty’s Infernal for my Boy Quill for Christmas?

Or maybe a copy of the " Secret 3rd Testament " which speaks in detail about the last days on Earth, one giant orgy of sexual indulgence until the last humans have literally fucked, sucked, and eaten each other to extinction... A great airplane read Quill!"

"Ahhh, the 3rd Testament? Never heard about this Book Quill? Who wrote this last shuffle Boys? Pope was it one of your perverted little boy molesters that wrote it?"

"Sorry Boys, I suddenly really, really miss my fucking cat best friend Timba at me Castle Raven, you go ahead without me. Gotta call me cat, me Irish fucking Castle beckons Bitches!"

"Of course it was that fucking San Francisco Order Of The Eternal Rear Admiral (OOTERA) Think it was Brother Prometheus Lee a Post Graduate Jesuit gone rogue who spent all his time at the front row Mitchell Bros Adult Theater working his Whang instead of studying.

Afer confessing his horrid Sin’s he was instructed say 100 million Hale Mary’s and write a 700 page Tomb titled, "The 3rd and Final Testament." Only three copies exist, The Pope has a fine copy fully illustrated with karma Sutra the whole smack..."

Suddenly the little jets lights blink and the Captain asked everyone to get dressed , sit down and prepare for landing, no customs on the way to limo waiting to whisk the party to Berlusconies’s Crib nestled in the sweetest part of Milan of course...

Quill turns to Johnny G, and requests his Sat Phone which has many more bars left.

"Gotta call Raven’s Haven and hear me Cat Timba’s sweet voice boys! Hello, it is I grab Timba and put me on Speaker so we can talk to each other..."

"Timba, have you been eating your Sword fish Pate’ my old friend? And how is the Irish Mouse population at Raven’s Haven these days feline undomestcus?

Miss you as well Timba, count your whiskers slowly and the Master will have you in his lap before the Irish Sun sets too many more times my boy..."

"Johnny I’m packing of course Buddy, have the Forty -Five in my suitcase and the 38 Derringer in my pocket. No customs and no Italian Cops my friend?"

"This is my home Quill, no one will ask you anything except how much more Hashish you want to hit or how many more sweet Italian Pussy’s you may wish to sample.

We begin with a long lunch with Berlusconi and his pack of demented dogs, after which we head for Venice and my crib on the water."

"Weather is perfect, feel the air..."

"Shit here comes a bunch of Paparazzi excuse, excuse no photos of my famous American friend please, please let us pass in peace..."

Flash after flash of the famous American Judge/General/Fly Fisher as he and Johnny and Dali and the Glimmer Twin bounce into Berlusconi’s special one of kind Fiat Roadster and its off in insane Italian traffic.

Paparazzi in hot pursuit just like dear sweet Prince Charles first wife Diana in her last tragic moment being pursued straight to the grave...

Quill is on high alert Marine General feeling squeezed, pushed, disrespected by these Mother Fucking punk ass Italian Newspaper boys gotta have the shot for the Headline and this Mother fucking old Jar Head ain’t going for it!

"Tell your fucking driver to pull over now or I’ll break his neck and your’s asshole! Pull this Bitch over now!"

Quill and Keith Richards jump out, Keith goes for one side of the Van kicks in the window and grabs a camera throws it hard to the ground as Quill points his .38 Derringer at the Driver who can’t pull away as the Limo has cut all escape routes!

It’s Boogy Woogy time Bitch

"Ok, you pathetic assholes, Johnny you interpret this my friend, your not going to Diana me boys! Here is a sweet publicity photo of my friends Dali, Keith and I we took just for you assbites. Now get on down the road have a real nice day..."

During this rapid change in Johnny’s arrival plans, it becomes clear his guests will need special handling even he will find extremely difficult at best.

Johnny and his Driver watch Quill and his Pal’s clean each other up, the hair, clothes, shoes, sunglass’s all neat and tidy after the little misunderstanding.

Quill asked the Driver placing his hand on his shaking shoulder if wouldn’t mind putting on his favorite Muddy Waters CD, so he and the boys can get back to international peace keeping baby...

"So Keith how much cash did we drop on those Bandit’s to cover the Nikon 7s we demolished."

Then magically the Italian atmosphere in the Limo becomes brilliant orange and pulsating green’s and blue’s as Quill’s best LSD begins its sweet mind, sensory bending mission...

The driver and Johnny were both dosed with Owsley’s best liguid Sunshine at the Airport terminal before the Limo ride began.

They are now just about to peak as the sweet smells of Morrocan Hashish fill the Limo and his blessed self none other then the awfully long Dead, but, still killer voice of the most talented slide guitar soul blues artist who ever lived. Founding member of the Allman Brothers Band, Eric Clapton’s brother in killer old school blues known as Sky Dog.....

Duane Allman

"Boys, I been tied to the whipping post and it ain’t so bad on this side of the Mortal Sound Studio, (MSS) not bad at all.

Jamming constant, never ends. Especially when someone new and real good shows up, man, it gets funky over here Quill, Keith, Dali, Johnny...

"No worries none of you are due for many Moon’s. We are expecting several of your big stars getting invisible maybe this year? Mostly dumb self destructive white chicks I’m afraid"

"Ahhh, how about a hint Sky Dog, it’s one of the crazy young Hollywood thangs coming apart right? It ain’t one of the big guns left is it?"

"Hey, remember when that plane went down in the 50s killed Buddy Holly and his Boys? Waylon Jennings last minute gave someone his seat on that plane boys.

Gotta bounce , time to jam with Freddy King, Elvis and James Brown. Every night we get the Blues, Blues falling like rain..."

(Will Italy ever be the same after these Boys? Next stop Supream Court or Raven’s Haven?)