Thompson’s Theories of Diet and Health

[Thompson]

This is a good restaurant, said Thompson, efficient, attention to detail, I like it, maybe we should open a restaurant.

They can be a monster headache, said Nausea, staffing problems, theft, bad vibes, broken dishes, asshole customers.

It would give the girls something to do, wait on tables, keep those legs in shape, said Thompson, and we could move our drugs quick in a restaurant.

Well we will need a liquor license, said Nausea, and nobody is going to give one to you.

Good point! They might give one to Popcorn. He doesn’t drink and he has a good reputation working at the hospital.

Damn, I’m not a big lobster fan, but these lobsters are mighty tasty.

[Badfellow]

It was that Rockefeller feller who popularized the lobster. Before that it was considered garbage, no better than sea bugs consumed by the costal destitute and impoverished of the ports. Lobsters were dumped en masse upon the shores in favor of cod and other flaky fish which fetched a more fetching price on the market.

Not John D., though.

Having come up from the rags of a large family himself, ol’ Johnnie Davison said them sea bugs was damn delicious and demanded from Delmonico’s by way of unimaginable wealth and influence that they be fit for his table. So he single handedly set a trend. Lobster dredged in garlic butter thus became a most decadent of luxuries. Once food of the poor, now cuisine of the rich.

I believe it was Che Guevara who once said "we are poised to take lobster back and share it with the people. Viva la lobster."


We’ll have to find a better lobster joint where we can plan these heists.

[Thompson]

Right, said Nausea, we would do much better with a bowling alley. We can put in a couple pool tables and have poetry readings. We can surely move our drugs at a bowling alley.

Right, said Thompson, we can teach the Eskimo girls how to perfect that bowling approach in those bowling outfits with short shorts. Doesn’t matter if they roll a strike. Plus I know a bit about bowling machines. I could work behind the machines setting pins and freeing up stuck bowling balls.

Yeah, forget lobster, we’ll have one of them hot dog machines that go round and round and a chili heating machine for cans of chili and beef stew. And a candy bar machine and a cigarette machine. We will have lots of machines in our bowling alley.

[Thompson]

Let me send a telegram to Hugh and find out if he’s free to give a reading at the grand opening of The Bowling Alley. I hope we have enough parking space. Just to make sure I’ll have the girls wear their roller skates to do valet parking.

Big Nate will be in charge of the sound system and lights. He likes Hugh, which is uncommon.

After the reading there will be a bowling showdown and horseshoe tournament in the horseshoe area. Badfellow will referee and keep score. DrunkinEurope will make sure everybody is wearing bowling shoes.

[Thompson]

Hugh replied in a telegram that he would read some select poems from his book of poems The Crouched House. Then he might try a new style of poem which is neither modernist nor post modernist or any of that shit. It’s going to be pure stream of consciousness. Hugh has a stream of consciousness that will frighten most people, including the Eskimo stripper girls and Thompson and especially Popcorn. So everybody was on pins and needles for the reading. Hugh was smoking a joint when he walked on stage and drinking a 16 can of Hamm’s. Then he started singing the Sky Blue Waters Hamm’s song. That was a bit much but Big Nate had rigged up a good sound system and the acoustics were good at The Alley.

Then Hugh recited his stream of consciousness poem. Nobody could believe how good it was. It was very good.

[Thompson]

Then Thompson passed out. He looked like he usually does, bad, then he fell over and there was spit or drool coming out his mouth and his legs were twitching every which way and then he tried to get up off the floor and couldn’t and cursed a blue streak and the landlord came over again to see, but wouldn’t help Thompson up off the floor, just kicked him in the stomach instead. That’s when Thompson passed out.

He was happy to pass out. He had been trying since 10pm to pass out. But he woke up. He slept for 45 minutes.

[Thompson]

The grand opening of The Bowling Alley was a huge success. Hugh’s reading was over the top. Last I saw he was autographing his book of poems to a line of bowlers. The girls performed the valet duties with aplomb. A lot of fellas just hung out in the parking lot to watch. After the poetry reading Oettinger played some Bob Dylan folk songs on Big Nate’s sound system. Oettinger was not keen on Bob Dylan so he reinvented the songs sort of like Jimi Hendrix did with All Along the Watchtower. Everybody dug it, the applause was overwhelming. Lots of cigarettes and candy bars were sold out the machines. Badfellow won the horseshoe contest with a ringer on his final throw, and was proud of his trophy that Thompson gave him. There was a little trouble on lane three when a fist fight broke out, but you know, fist fights are like dogs barking. They finally stop.

[Thompson]

Thompson sent a telegram to Ladybug. He basically said can you get your hooker ass back here? I am fading out. I need an ice cream sandwich and a quart of beer. Hurry!

The telegram from Bug came back. It read — You need to go to Hospital, there is nothing I can do for you anymore. I have tried everything and you just get worse. Plus I’ve found another guy. He happens to be fun. We go out to eat and to the movies. He is like the opposite of you.

Okay, I get the picture, never mind.

[Thompson]

Don’t come crying to me when he hurts your feelings and kicks you out onto the curb. That’s all I’ve got to say to you, Ladybug.

[Thompson]

So Thompson had to go out and get an ice cream sandwich and a quart of beer from the corner store which was three and a half blocks away. He put his overalls on and finally got his shoes on, which took forever. He lit a cigarette and located his cane and ventured out. It had been a while since he tried this. After one and one half blocks he had to sit down. So he sat down on the curb and lit another cigarette. Goddamn I should always keep a half pint in my overalls, thought Thompson. Now he couldn’t get up. He struggled and shifted his weight this way and that and got his feet in position and did a big try and failed to get up. Now I suppose another ambulance is coming, thought Thompson.

And sure enough here comes an ambulance but it just wizzed on by and Thompson is stuck on the curb and can’t get up. I should always keep a half pint in my overalls, thought Thompson.

[Thompson]

Forget the ice cream sandwich, fuck that. But we’ve got to have enough juice. There is not enough juice in the house. Thompson has simply got to make it to the corner store and buy some juice. So this set in on his brain and he stood up and headed in the direction of the store. He made it to the store. He purchased a 1.75 Burnett’s and a quart of Budweiser. He would have liked to at least get a 12 pack but he was afraid of falling down with all that weight. He paid the gal then headed home. He made it one and one half blocks and had to sit down. There was a picnic table on the sidewalk so he sat on that. The picnic table however belonged to the new restaurant and they didn’t like the looks of Thompson and they ran him off. So Thompson sat on the curb again and opened the quart of Budweiser. Goddamn that is good. He drank about a quarter of the quart and was able to get up off the curb and make it home. The end.

[Thompson]

Thompson woke up with a terrible stomach ache where the landlord had kicked him. He walked to the freezer for an ice cream sandwich, but there weren’t any. The only thing in the freezer was some frozen fish that had been in the freezer for as long as Thompson could remember. It was all crusted with freezer burn. At least he had some cigarettes and most of the 1.75. He turned on the tv but couldn’t take it so he shut it off. He thought about sending a telegram but he had nothing to say really. The World Series was over. No more baseball. Thompson was routing for the Rangers since day one because they air every day on his cable setup. And they won the World Series. But now there are no more baseball games until next season and Thompson went into a funk. He became non responsive. Hugh even came over and read a new stream of consciousness poem and brought his famous box of wine to share, but Thompson just sat there and rocked back and forth. Hugh rolled a joint and passed it over. Nothing doing. Hugh said, Look here Thompson, you drink this glass of wine and you take a deep hit off this joint or I’m going to punch you in the face. That got Thompson’s attention because of the several fist fights he had gotten into lately. And he did as Hugh said, and then he gave Hugh a hug, and then he started crying. He wasn’t sad. He was happy.

[oettinger]

several fist fights he had gotten into lately.

I think we call that mixed drunken arts

[Thompson]

I think I’ll put my boots on and lie down on the couch with a blanket.

[Hugh]

Thompson I fucked up. I never should have told you I wanted to be an Alaska lobsterman. I only wanted to be a cowboy. Can you fix it? Tell these other assholes that ended up here in Alaska we never should have been here in the first place. Just tell them it's all my fucking fault. I always fuck shit up. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y9XZlRCY9pA