So I’m sitting next to this cougar, right. We’re at the bus stop, right, and he’s wearing this straw hat, right. He has lemon eyes, pupils like key lime pie crumbs, right. The whites of his eyes are red, right. Dark red with lightning strikes of blood, right. He looks at me, and I try not to look at him, but his fur is attractive, right. Fur looks like he is cremated skin, like skin that was already cremated, right. And this cougar, yeah, he looks at me and growls like a bear, yeah. And I look the other way, yeah, looking for the bus, but there is really no bus coming, yeah. Because I’m in this wilderness, with this cougar, yeah.
And this cougar goes, like, he says to me right, he goes, [I only pray when I’m on the toilet.] I nod my head, right. He goes, this cougar says, with ashtray teeth and a rabbit filled tongue, this cat says, [I pray when I’m on the toilet. I love my colon.] He moans, [I love my colon, and I pray for sweet intestinal movements.] He starts crying, right, like he was on the toilet right now, right, and starts praying in cougar mouth, right, and then he stands up and slaps me on the face yeah, and he sings, [do you pray?] I nod my head, yeah, and say, yeah, that I don’t pray, yeah, that I have no god, yeah. And this cougar, right, he slaps my face, right, and goes, like with a laugh full of scorn, like a laugh full of scorn, right, and he goes, [you need to pray when you shit, ‘cause your colon needs to be right, like your intestines are your temple, and your excrement is your communion.]
On his fours, yeah, he prowls like a cougar, yeah, like he is a cougar, yeah. He never turns back, right, he just keeps going, like he was a messiah, right, like he was the feline priest with a leather collar around his neck, made out of snake, right. And I just sit there, right, wanting to urinate while I wait for the bus, right, in the middle of the jungle, yeah.