The Resident Neuro-surgeon proclaimed with wild hand movements and much passing of wind: "There is good money to be made in penny stocks, but it requires true diligence and patients."
Hmmmmm, a little slip of the tongue there Doctor???? Patients???? Where would the good doctor be without *PATIENTS!!!*
Dr. J. is the master booger-eater in a surgery comprised of lifting people's wallets and removing the contents through numerous (and always) debt incurring strategic manuevers.
BRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH (hoisting my fat ass onto a nice Hickory stump.....ooops, that's the Hairy-man's head, soooo soorrrryy)
Ya see, it all begun in the beginning....The Hairy-Man begat The Gerrard Enterprise, the Gerrard Enterprise begat the Shock Absorber scam, the money flowed over the ADGI Dam (never to be consummated) millions of shares and bucks in consultant's fees. The clueless penny stock mariners floated the boat over the treasure hunter's dream castle in Atlantis....the savvvy investor is reading twixt the limmerick line, pulling the plug and doing it quick, cause the bottom line is the last deposit in the overseas nightdrop box of the CIA's company store...want more????
Issue stock, the clock stopped the mouse ran up to DC, the Hairy-man cried foul and flew to Geneva for a convention on conventional wisdom, whilst Dr. J stirred the pot with vaccine ampules filled with Crack....it's the stock attack, a last ditch anti-logic war waged on the unwitting by the unyielding to produce the unthinkable. Saddam Hussein doing the Anthrax fix on the mundane in the main vein, Doctor J. flipped the wick and threw 50 million dollars into an overseas account. Contracts were made and the Coolest Doctor this side of Havana is lying in the shade under a Palm tree.
Ha!
The dooer, lifeless marks line up for the thrust, pants dropped and waiting for the cue. Meanwhile Hickory is evicting our fine doctor for non-payment of rent, wifie split with the garbage collector, the DNA Anal-izer lies unused in a Public Storage unit in Little Rock. The Willie G. commemencement speech at Uncle Gordon's Penthouse and retreat on a backlot south of Barracks B is sealed hermetically to prevent the oozing scum of outdated drugs which usher faint odors reminiscent of absinthe and paragoric. Scully pulls up in a rented Ford LTD, looking for all the world like Madonna as she thrusts her knee into the cancer man's crotch. Doctor J. steps forward and in a last strained effort hands her a key....
To be continued.
Ha! |
