Continued from Part 1 http://thecomedypoint.com/2010/01/06/darkness-on-the-edge-of-town-part-1/

everything changes. The conversation picks up steam like a freight train running amok. We talk about life. I’m looose babies. I gave up on winning so I started playing with house money. From the ashes rises a phoenix. She smiles alot. She tells me something I did was turning her on. WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! I am making a big time comeback like the Bills against the Oilers in the ’92″ playoffs. She starts getting akward. I can tell she hooks up alot and is having self implied “whore issues.” Those ain’t issues to me babies.

Let a ho be a ho!!! Embrace your sexuality. Don’t hide it. I feel bad for girls. Y’all are the rulers of the sexual universe. You call the games. Yet, if you hook up too much the slut word gets thrown. Not fair babies, not fair. Anyway back to the action. Eyes lock. I have my mark in my sight. I go for…..the kill. she offers a cheeck like many girls do now.

When I was younger eyes locking meant here’s my lips dummy get’em while you can dummy. These days girls want a smooch on the cheeck. Then we’ll work are way to the great ride known as Lip Mountain. I guess it’s like a pitcher. You need some warm-up tosses before you can throw your cutter. I gently plant sweet lip morsels on her cheeck. She looks nervous. I bring that up to her. BLOW UP. Spot blown. She is now in her head big time. MY Bad. She tries to sneek out. Off to the bathroom she goes.

I order more vodker. She beelines out the bar while I rap with the barkeep. I am now a race car in red. I start bitching about her to said barkeep. How I wasted time. How this journey to find physical solace is such a waste of time and is empty. How comedy is awful and I want to quit. Basically I’m telling him how I’ve become the oppossite of King Midas, everything I touch turns to feces. The bartender’s eyes shift from my misery to something directly behind me. There is shock in his eyes like he just saw Michael Myers get up after being shot six times in “Halloween.” The girl is directly behind me. Looking like a stunning dame in a film noir classic. “Would you like to walk me home?” Game. Set. Match. Goodnight Brooklyn.

The 3rd and Final Part of this blog is only available by emailing Maddog Mattern!!! himself.  The unedited version is too explicit to post here on our website.  So if you’re curious and we know you are, email Maddog Mattern!!! at jamiemaddogmattern@yahoo.com.