Friday, February 20, 2009

Letter from Alphaville

By Bub

Dear Donnie,

I’m here in Alphaville and I thought I’d drop you a line. I’m visiting my Uncle Lemmy. You remember, I told you about it the last time we went out throwing golf balls into the river. Anyway I just wanted to let you know ‘what’s up’.

First, my Uncle picked me up at the airport. His eyes kept darting all over the place and it made me kinda nervous. A nice lady came up to us, and took our bags. Well, she took my bag, but my uncle - who for some reason brought a briefcase with him to pick me up at the airport – jerked it away from the nice lady when she tried to help him with it. She kept insisting that ‘she was fine’ and ‘not to mention it’, even though no one had mentioned it to begin with. She made me feel like a real asshole. But on the other hand no one ever carried any shit for me before. I was having such a good a time visiting my uncle and we weren’t even out of the airport yet.

My Uncle is an odd duck. He claims to be a journalist, but he is clearly a secret agent – people are always lunging at him from shadows as he casually shoots them dead and pretends like nothing happened. And he wears a nice trench coat and one of those hats that Dick Tracy would wear, at all times. I told him, ‘Uncle, we gotta get you some hipper clothes, like my t-shirt with a pocket on it and some cut-off jean shorts’. But he just said he needed to look inconspicuous. I don’t even know what that means. I think he has some kind of deformity or something. Like Rain Man.

He took us back to his place, which turns out to be a hotel, a nice one, nice enough to where the bell girls try to take a bath with you. I was all about it, but my Uncle shooed the babe away saying that she was setting him up or something. At first I thought he was being a huge dick-block, but then another secret agent friend jumped out of the bath water and my Uncle shot him. My Uncle can be pretty cool sometimes.

Next my Uncle took me to a place he called Central Control. I thought this was gonna be a kicking club, but it turned out to be a place that maybe had my Uncle’s Doctor’s office in it or something. I don’t know for sure because he left me in this room by myself and took off. There were all these microphones sort of floatin’ around and some weird voice that sounded like it was choking on cigarette ashes kept saying some shit in a foreign language as a big light flashed in my face. It was just like the rave I went to, except nobody was on ecstasy. I mean, nobody gave me any ecstasy at the rave I went to either, it was just nice knowing that other people had it and were havin’ a good time. No one was having a good time here though. I asked for a Budweiser and one of them microphone things hit me in the fuckin’ head. I couldn’t tell if it was the flashing light in my face talkin’ or if some other foreign dudes were behind some curtain somewhere but someone kept saying stuff about life and death and a circle and logic and shit. It sounded real profound. It was dark though so I don’t know.

Anyway, it was a pretty cool party. I wish you coulda come. We would have a blast laughing at that foreign fucking flashing light, and then you would get all serious when he started talking about ‘the present moment’ and shit and then I’d make a fart noise to lighten the mood. We’d have such a blast. Well, I’ll write you again soon to tell you about the next cool club I hit with my Uncle if I can find his secret ass. Alphaville feels kinda weird, but the chicks here’ll do just about anything you ask ‘em to@@ Forget-about-it!!

Sincerely Yours,

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