One week after having yet another remnant of my childhood completely and utterly destroyed I have not been able to get that lemur off my mind. “I wonder how they are making out?” I thought to myself this morning. So I threw on some shoes and headed to Franklin Street to find out.
This looks encouraging. In fact, I think I detect a smile on that lemur’s face. No wonder; the good thing about getting ravished by E.T. is he can use that magic finger of his to do a little sexual healing on your ruptured colon or prolapsed rectum. He may bust you out, but he can also make your naughty bits all shiny and new again. Or, as Madonna would say,
Like a virgin.
From the look of things I’d say E.T. is pretty content too. Maybe he is basking in the afterglow of his one week ‘honeymoon’? My husband thinks he’s doing a little post-coital cuddling, but I have my doubts.
The gesture E.T. is making with his left arm reminds me of something a salesman pitching time shares on late night television would do. The eye contact is also disquieting. It is almost as if E.T. is trying to say You’re next! or
If you lived here you’d be fucked by now!
P.S.: Speaking of things E.T., I found this most remarkable turd on McGuinness Boulevard this week.