The thick of day by the Rio Verde had Asmodeus’ ballsack dripping and reeking of shit and raw sewage. And as he bathed himself in the cool river waters, a postal worker on a saddle horse rode upon him and called out.
You there! the postman said.
And Asmodeus covered himself for he had a little ass dick and was ashamed of it. Then he stepped out from the flowing water with one hand over his cock and shouted. How did you find me, he asked the postman.
I’m with the United States government dumbass, the postman told him. I have mail for you.
Asmodeus nodded and nakedly approached the horse wearing only a black Stetson. He took of the mail. And while covering his weiner, he tore open the parcel and read its contents. And when his eyes swept through the pages, his mind raced and his brow furrowed for he had previously thought this to be impossible. Afterwards, with his jaw agape and his black eyes dumbstruck, he released the parcel from his fingertips and the papers swayed into the dirt. I’ve won tickets to see the Spin Doctors in Gilbert, he said. I’ve waited my whole life for this very day.
Well lucky you.
But I didn’t enter my name in any contest.
Never look a gift horse in the mouth, said the postman. Rolling Stone called the Spin Doctors the most revolutionary band of the 90s. They were nominated for a Grammy for Christ sake. Only a fool would pass this opportunity up.
But the concert is tonight.
But but but, mocked the postman. I swear I’ve never met a man with so many excuses. You should cover that little dick of yours and ride on into Gilbert.
He returned his glance to the fallen papers and the postman swung his horse around and galloped north. Asmodeus stood motionless. He scratched his bare ass, spat, and then saddled up his mule.
TO BE CONTINUED…