My name is mud.

"The best meals are eaten with a wet nose. All of them."

I’m wanking my self stupid over Jill Jackson from “Paul and Paula”, the one hit wonders from nineteen sixty three. I can’t help it. It’s compulsive. There is this one little noise she makes when (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e8clzAoyRYQ - 0:58 seconds in) she says "hey, hey, hey, Paul".

It’s the second one in and that FUCKING LOOK ON HER BUTTON CUTE FUCKING FACE that gets me going. Like auto asphyxia or something equally as insane. I wait on that shit and I’m spent. Chips in - money shot.

God DAMN that woman is dynamite. Then the smile at 1:10 is like she’s saying thanks big fella; you where great. I sit there with a sad looking dick in my clammy little palms and a goofy grim spread across my face.

In the morning I ask my woman to sing for me, only, I want her to be on a black and white television set and say "Hey, hey, hey Benny, i want to marry you too."

She says no, She says, "not when im looking this ugly". I cant contain my un requited love so I spill the beans. "I’m in love with Jill Jackson from Paul and Paula. Oh god, that feels so good to get off my chest." she sighs and looks at me with a tilted head. I still feel relived.

"But, babe, you know, it’s okay; because she’s probably dead now so you have nothing really to worry about." I retort in response to the look. That look.

"Good, I’m fucking happy she's dead."

Some one bangs on the wall in the next room and says

"Will you crack heads shut the fuck up, Im trying to do something in here."

I open a beer and suck on it like a tit. In my head, as she eats her raisin toast, I say "I love beer more than i love you" and all things considered its probally true.

I bet Jill Jackson wouldn’t be happy if she was dead.