Monday, March 07, 2011

Six More Hours in Arconia

by James Jarvis
from My Arcology
Nov 10, 2001

    Six hours on my feet for the Arconians tonight. Got a sudden nostalgia for the stone crazy halcyon days of pimping my fast Lumina all night, every night for The Dragon Lady, One-Eyed Rob, The Midget, The Hungarians, the Bulgarians and every other flesh-peddling "arian" of the twisted Los Angeles nights.

    I kinda miss Motel Du Jour, Peekaboo Police, Perverts On Parade, Taxicab Mafia Tag, Racecar Randy, Liar's Poker and all the other games of the wicked. I have to admit, I kinda miss young women peeing, puking and passing out in my car. I kinda miss the stalking, gawking and mad midnight missions . . . the wild west outlaw nature of the work . . .  the adrenaline rushes. It was like seeing a different car crash every night. Hell, it was like being in a different car crash every night.

    I miss bruising my eardrums with blasting-loud techno-pop as me and The Russian blew past traffic on the 101. I miss Ukrainians throwing me around Super Eight Motel rooms and running naked on the 2 a.m. beaches with a whirling, twirling moonstruck gypsy woman.

     I miss pulling leopard skin-clad women out of Santa Monica Park trees. I miss chaperoning pothead valley girls to New York City and bouncing around inside my car waiting for the after hours clubs to open at 6 a.m.

    Okay, I'll admit it. I miss the international sex, too. French, British, Check, Korean, Russian, Japanese, Filipino, South African, Hungarian, Australian, Haitian, Spanish, Puerto Rican, German, and Italian sex (nobody you know). That was kinda interesting.

    Six more hours in Arconia tomorrow.
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