(Scrappy Doodles – Photos by Joe)

My gloved hand along with a red leash was outstretched to Scrappy D, who had led the way into the northeast corner of Central Park. Splayed out in front of us was the Harlem Meer. Ice had started to form on the lake’s still waters. The sun beamed just above the buildings on Fifth Avenue, and yellow rays spread through gray clouds. The sky loomed like it held a summer thunderstorm. The Meer didn’t smell much like water, nor did it smell like city grit or like the barren trees or grass in the park.

It was too cold to smell properly, but not to feel.

We had just come down Broadway, in an uptown section divided by a tree-lined median. We passed Scrappy’s favorite grocers and restaurants on Broadway, where he sniffed up a storm and proudly marked the turf. Here and there, I had picked the little guy up and gave him a hug. He loves hugs; he digs his head in my neck, and I swear it feels like he hugs me back. He’s awesome. But I was in a bad way and didn’t want to use him too much. I just love him. I love how he struts with his head high as if he’s leading a parade. In his bug eyes there’s almost always a remarkably clear, confident look. While like normal dogs, he enjoys smelling sh-t and getting into stuff. He doesn’t mind when strangers pet him. Most everyone who meets the little guy, loves him. Sometimes I have a desire to emulate Scrappy. I know that’s crazy, but he’s flat-out awesome.

Minutes ago when we came upon Central Park’s northern border at 110th Street, I thought how I should have steered the little guy into Morningside Park, that was a block behind us. I saw Scrappy D lift his curious eyes to Central Park’s stone wall, before gazing at the trees. The leash became taut. I didn’t have the heart to change his direction.

My problem with “woman x” had started after I received a threat from a demon in Central Park. And now back at the apartment my friends were performing a house blessing to exorcise woman x. All week I had been trying to convince them that she was not an evil spirit. They didn’t believe me. After some harsh words in the morning, I had grabbed the dog and left.

(Harlem Meer in September)

Twenty minutes had passed since we entered the park. By now the cold stung my cheeks. I pulled on Scrappy D’s leash and told the little guy it was time to go home.

On Broadway, as we approached our street, I began to needle my gut. It felt like an open space had sprouted inside me. I knew that my friends had been successful. They had banished woman x’s spirit from our apartment and my life. Days ago she had promised me that she would be my personal seer and protectorate. I believed her. (I had developed strong feelings for her.)

When I entered our uptown apartment, I saw standing to the side of one my four friends, the legendary psychic named Mona. In NYC’s paranormal circles, all one need do is mention her first name. She is one of our ”heaviest-hitters.” On occasion she has appeared in my dreams. I believe it’s not a coincidence, and that her volition enables her to do so.

I raised my brows to my lady friend(LF), who diverted her gaze. All we do lately is argue, and it’s getting difficult to think about the times when we didn’t. We have trust issues, actually, she does.

The pizza and Chinese delivery guys(aka num and nuts) flanked LF with their shoulders high, as if they guarded her. LF was dressed in a cream-colored pants suit and had makeup on. That evening there was a Christmas party to attend at the pizza delivery guy’s mother’s townhouse on Staten Island. I still had to shower and shave, and they looked sharp and clean–ready to walk out the door.

“She’s gone,” I said to Mona, who had been studying me. Next to her was Benny, “the cigar store Indian.” The two had their jackets on, and they were edging toward the door.

Mona didn’t respond, though she seemed to be reading my face like it was a crystal ball.

I let my eyes trace the apartment walls. If I was upset that woman x was out of my life, I didn’t let it show.

“You did a great job,” I muttered. “Place seems spiritually bereft.”

Mona nodded.

“She wasn’t a bad demon,” I said.

LF gave a cold stare.

“In times of good, possibly,” Mona said carefully. “Though good is boring to most supernatural entities who are not free. This one was bound to your life, eventually she would have destroyed it, and you.”

“Now she’s gone,” Benny said and opened the door to the outside hall. He put a hand in the small of Mona’s back. “We have to be going, too.”

Benny, who is an old homeless man, wore a new wool suit, and I thought of the times I had seen him picking through trash cans. What the hell does he look for? It wasn’t food or aluminum cans. Once he had found an engagement ring, I remembered. Benny is also a clairvoyant. He is the person I turn to when I have problems with the paranormal. For the most part, he is secretive about his sources. I thought that he must have a personal seer like woman x.

(Broadway by 110th Street – Morningside Heights)

“Call if you need to,” Mona said to me with a ring of concern and left with Benny.

I shrugged, slighted that they were leaving so soon and with so few words.

“We have to help set up for the party tonight,” LF said in a monotone voice, and took Scrappy D by the leash. “You can meet us there later.”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” I said dejectedly.

LF didn’t respond. Once num and nuts realized I wasn’t going with them, their eyes sparked up.

I glared at LF and she turned away. That killed me. Then her red lipstick hit me as sexy, but if I wasn’t going with her–who were those sexy lips for?

“Okay, bye,” she said. There was an awkward moment as she left without a kiss goodbye.

It felt like another empty space had opened in me. I sighed and folded my arms, noting again how the apartment appeared to be wiped clean of any traces of incorporeal life.

—

Here are all the posts in this series: Episode Thirty-Three

Empty Spaces

The Demolition Man’s Secret

Shapes

Here are my STORIES and info on my Novels

(Scrappy Doodles – Photos by Bald Punk)

Scrappy D is awesome. He’s loads of fun. But I just wish he didn’t have a thing for shoelaces.

Here are my STORIES and PHOTOS

(Photos by Bald Punk – Scrappy D)

Seated on the couch, I craned my neck at the sounds of my friends outside the apartment door. They had returned from walking my dog, Scrappy D. I anticipated the little guy darting into the room and springing into my arms. He is one of the smartest dogs, probably of all time. Whenever I come home, I take special pleasure in his curious-gaze as I tell him about my day.

The pizza and Chinese delivery guys(aka num and nuts) burst through the doorway, shrieking and rambling louder than usual–looking like two parakeets whose cage was being rattled.

My eyes popped wide open as I caught sight of Scrappy’s red leash and empty harness, dangling from the pizza guy’s wrist.

Before I was even on my feet, I was apoplectic. It was like someone took an air ratchet, attached it to my chest, and tightened the skin.

My first impulse was to toss num and nuts down the four flights of stairs and into the street. Yet more than ever, I really needed to see Scrappy D. I decided to put all my energy into finding him.

My lady friend(LF) discerned from num and nuts, though their huffs, puffs, and tears–that somehow Scrappy Doodles had slipped out of his harness and ran off.

Before I could say a word, my LF turned to muah and asked, “Did you put his harness on properly?”

I clenched my mouth shut.

-

We all split up, while the pizza delivery guy went to get our car that unfortunately was nine blocks away.

I headed straight to Scrappy D’s favorite store over on Broadway. It’s an Asian-owned grocery store. He goes nuts whenever we get near there. He loves the smell.

No one inside or outside the store had seen him.

I headed south on Broadway and approached some of the mofos on the street. Thankfully, I had just posted some great Xmas photos of Scrappy D. I popped the one below up on my phone to show people.

My hand shook as I held up my phone with the little guy’s photo. My stomach was roiling. Scrappy had never run away before. I love him so much and the thought of not finding him was overwhelming.

On 95th Street, I headed west toward Amsterdam Ave. I wanted to shoot back up to St. John the Divine. Scrappy loves that place. His eyes always get real big whenever we’re in front.

My LF called me and said she was coming to pick me up with the car. I lost the phone signal before I could give her my exact location.

Catching my eye was a very thin man with a stove-pipe hat. He wore an old black suit. He sat on a stoop, cradling something in his right arm. It was Scrappy D!

I bellowed with relief, which was probably heard for a 10-block radius.

Scrappy hardly moved. By the way the man casually glanced at me, I knew “we had a problem.”

“That’s my dog,” I said, trying to sound nice, though not liking the way he gripped my dog, or how sluggish the little guy seemed.

Scrappy D was downright torpid. A voice in my head told me to “HIT THE GUY!!!”

The man had a long face that sloped outward to a weak chin. His hazel eyes were wide-set and had a crafty light. His nose was thin and flat at the tip. It looked like his face had been socked a few times over the course of his life.

I reached in and snatched Scrappy D. I can’t express how relieved I was to feel his warm little body, or the joy of those big eyes staring up into mine. Though his languidness was frightening.

“What did you do to my dog?” I asked, while calling my LF on my cell. I had to pull the phone from my ear as she screamed with relief. Then I put the phone to Scrappy’s ear so my LF and num and nuts could talk to him.

“Just cast a little spell over him,” the man said. “He’ll be fine.”

“What do you want, guy?” I said curtly, in ‘NYC speak.’ He had one last chance to be straight with me or I was going to slug him.

“What’s your name?” he said.

I straightened, and took a step back. “You want some money?” I asked. “Twenty bucks?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“I wanted to meet you,” he said and angled his hat higher with his thumb.

“So you steal my f—ing dog?”

“It brought you to me,” he said and flashed a smile. His teeth were blackened by tobacco stains. “So tell me your name?” He turned his head to our Camry that now sped up the block. Scrappy D started to liven. “Or should I ask one of your friends?”

I told him my name. He stood up, wiped the back of his pants and was on his way.

The man had struck me as aloof. I thought he must be a gopher or lackey.

All the same, I was happy he was going away. I wanted nothing more to do with him, and was looking forward to celebrating the return of Scrappy D.

Yet I called out to the man, “Did someone send you here?”

The man chuckled and spoke with a lively ring, “Why,  P. T. Barnum himself!”

(P.T. Barnum – 1810 – 1891)

To be continued . . .

—

Here are the posts in this series:  Episode Twenty-Four – December 2009/January 2010

Search for Scrappy D!

Barnum in Central Park

The Elephant and the Looking Glass

Here are my STORIES and PHOTOS

(Photo by Bald Punk – Columbus Circle from Central Park South – click to expand)

First–

I promise over the weekend to take you one step deeper into the darkest secrets New York has to offer. I’ve been thinking about where to go next, and it came to me moments ago–

Me and you got to go back in time! Ok mofo. Hope you’re ready. I figure a few hundred years or so should do it.

This is the evolution of SECRETS OF NY starting with the first post:

     BALD PUNK’S TV SHOW PREP - July 2009

        BALD PUNK’S SECRETS OF NYC

      Episode Thirteen – July 2009 (Bald Punk’s Secrets of NY)

        ALIEN SECRETS

        One of NYC’s Biggest Secrets

        I saw Michael Jackson’s Ghost in NYC

      Episode Fourteen – August 2009

        New York City’s Deepest, Darkest Secret

        Secrets

        We Are Knowing 

        LIFE IN TWO HOURS AND FIFTEEN MINUTES

        THE IMMORTALS

–

I want you to know – NYC doesn’t give up its secrets all that easily, especially the dark ones. I’ll do my best.

Btw, can you believe The New York Historical Society is CLOSED for the summer!  They’re doing renovations or some shit. They were closed just a few years ago by a fire or something . . . Hmmm. Anyway, the place rocks, big-time! I can’t wait to get my greasy paws all over their goods in September when they throw open their doors again to slumdogs like muah.

(Photo by Bald Punk – The New York Historical Society – click to expand)

Oh!!! Right now we’re in traffic on the FDR, headed for the Brooklyn Bridge. I’m typing on “my” brand new laptop. I got it at one of those big electronic stores last week. I will be paying for it along with my new video camera for quite some time.

Oh!!! Oh!!! The pizza delivery guy is driving!!!!!!

Yes, you heard that right. That’s why me and my lady friend (she would never admit to this) are in the back seat of our car.

You gotta see the pizza and Chinese delivery guys(aka num and nuts). I feel like I’m being chaffered by parakeets. That’s all I’ll say. They-are-whacked!

The pizza delivery guy drives okay so long as nobody honks a horn or does something stupid. My biggest fear is that if like a stupid dog or a cat runs in front of us, he’ll turn into on-coming traffic or straight into a pole. A little old lady he would mow down because he’s whacked, plain and simple.

But a dog or a cat–golden idols.

(Photo by Bald Punk – Central Park West at New York Historical Society – click to expand)

My lady friend is holding my dog, Scrappy Doodles. His butt is in her face ’cause, he’s scoping shit out the window. He’s the smartest dog ever. I bet he sees shit even people don’t. If he could drive, I would trust him before  you know who.

These are the posts in which Scrappy D first appeared:

       Episode Nine: June 2009 (Banned in the UK/Ratdog/THE VIRGIN KING)

         Bald Punk Gets No Love From UK

         I’m Waiting To BE Surprised(+ message to UK)!!!

        I have a RAT in my apartment!

        Banned from the UK!!!

        Fiction Post

        THE VIRGIN KING (Three Chapters of Novel)

        Introducing Scrappy Doodles (To be continued???)

— 

I swear, after the doctor smacked num and nuts on the ass he had to turn to their moms and say, your son is whacked!

Okay, so this weekend–big-time SECRETS will be coming your way. But be forewarned–

We see things in NYC that would blow your mind. What’s underneath it all . . . I haven’t gotten that far yet. I don’t have the absolute truth. All I have is more mystery.

Your bud,

Bald Punk

P.S. We take Scrappy into Home Depot with us. He’s the coolest dog ever. I have a jacket that I hide him in. The employees don’t seem to mind anyway.

P.P.S.S. We’re going to the Home Depot in Park Slope. We live in uptown Manhattan. 

(Photo by Bald Punk – San Remo on Central Park West – click to expand)

Here are all the posts in this series: Episode Fourteen – August 2009

New York City’s Deepest, Darkest Secret

Secrets

We Are Knowing

LIFE IN TWO HOURS AND FIFTEEN MINUTES

We’re on a Road Trip to Home Depot (Secrets Interlude)

THE IMMORTALS

Here are my STORIES and PHOTOS

Here’s another video of Scrappy D. He’s crazy. I told you he was. He’s awesome. We all love him.

You can read about him if you click on the ”Scrappy Doodles” category at the right. 

See Easy Site Navigation if you are new to BaldPunk.com

(Satan by Gustave Dore)

I monumentally screwed up with the exorcism, and everyone hates me. If you want, you can hate me too.

I have no idea how, but I’m going to change my life for good.

Unfortunately, you come here so I can tell you how I’m kicking-itbig time in NYC, but I can’t tell you about what happened over the weekend.

That’s because I took my lady friend(LF) on a date to see the Devil.

Worse—

I knew I couldn’t do the whole exorcism thing without her . . . so I didn’t tell her the real reason we were going to visit my friend Jose.

All I can say is that it didn’t occur to me what I did was wrong until she pointed it out.

Of course the pizza and Chinese delivery guys(aka num and nuts) followed us, but that’s their fault not mine.

(Spooky house – uncredited)

The house we went to in Marine Park for the exorcism was whacked out. The people with the ghost live in the 2nd floor apartment. My friend Jose lives in the first. I don’t know who lives in the basement, and don’t even ask me about the attic.

Somehow my LF knew right away what was going on, and she said, “Baldie . . . ?”

“This is the house where I thought I was supposed to exercise the ghost,” I told her, “only the guy had a thick accent, and he really wanted me to perform an ’exorcism’ instead.”

Her mouth opened in a circle, and her face went blank.

And of course num and nuts who wouldn’t notice a tidal wave, see her expression and their eyes get all beady, and they start making whiney noises just to let her know they are also flustered.

So I tell my LF–

“Me and Scrappy D are going upstairs, you don’t have to. You can stay with Jose.”

(Scrappy Doodles – Photo by Bald Punk)

She ignored me and went on up ahead on me. I was kinda relieved because I’m terrified of ghosts.

And my only plan was to throw holy water at the ghost and slam dance like a nut. I was also gonna call out “Ghost Crushers!” again and again. I have no idea what that would do, but I think it would have sounded cool.

My LF knows–

She watches Paranormal State and Ghost Hunters and knows about how to get rid of evil spirits.

My eyes go bonkers when I watch those shows. Plus they keep me wondering if there are ghosts in my apartment, which as we now know there are.

Up at the top of the stairs the guy’s wife opens the door. Her name sounded like “Velveeta,” and his was something like “Chee.” That was nice because it had me thinking about snacks.

If that wasn’t good enough, Velveeta takes one look at my bald head and then at my gut, and opens the fridge and hands me a beer.

Her husband didn’t seem too happy about it, but I didn’t care.

I took two more for num and nuts even though they only drink bay breezes(They are mmmm, good!) because my LF does. Thankfully, she doesn’t like wine coolers; could you imagine me going to a party to kick-it big time with my mofos, and bringing two guys who drink that crap—

Back to the EXORCISM!!!

The apartment—

They had votive candles burning, pictures of saints, statutes of holy people, and I swear to god they had so many crosses it was like a cemetery. I felt guilty for every sin I may or may not have committed.

I slugged down a full beer and that helped a little. But I swear something rubbed my arm.

All of a sudden, I could hear that whacked out music from The Exorcism.

Thinking maybe we could split, I said, ”I don’t see any ghosts so far.”

“It’s a demon, not a ghost,” Velveeta says, leaning close to me so as to make her point. 

I popped another beer, and was looking around at all the saints, crosses, and votive candles that they lit up and was really thinking about bolting.

The room seemed to be closing in. It was the scariest thing ever. Num and nuts had to feel it too because they huddled up right behind my LF.

And then Chee says, “The Devil is here.”

That was the cue to split, but my LF went right to work blessing each room, and repeating prayers.

“I bless this house in the name of God . . . I banish all evil spirits in the name of Jesus . . .”

Soon we were all saying the prayers and making the sign of the cross. While it was going on, we couldn’t stop because there were shadows moving around in the well-lit rooms.

Their kid that was possessed was named Alexa. She was about five years old and cute as could be.

When we turned the light on, she seemed more afraid than possessed, but my LF and Velveeta blessed her over and over.

“May the blessing of Almighty God the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit descend upon . . .”

Then we went around and blessed the place some more. It seemed like there was less tension in the apartment.

It was like the sun spread through dark clouds.

I felt so much better. I saw Chee had a gold tooth because he was smiling, and his wife Velveeta was hugging the crap out of us.

It was all good after that even though my LF wouldn’t take the $500 bucks for the exorcism.

Bye for now,

–Baldie

P.S. I just thought of the perfect Penance. For a week, I will root for the METS. Now that would be a tortuous week, especially how they’re playing!

—

Here are all the posts in this series: Episode Twelve – June 2009 (Ghost Crushers!)

Twitter Money Millions

Bald Punk THE EXORCIST

Ghost Crushers Are On The March!

BACK FROM MY FIRST EXORCISM

Date With The Devil

Here are my STORIES and info on my Novels

(Naruto)

I just wanted to check in before I go and perform my first exorcism.

Just in case I don’t make it back I want to say thank you to everyone for reading my blog and sending me your pretty nice emails, and even your spam. I would buy all your crap if I could.

We have holy water and are wearing tracksuits, except for my lady friend. She’s wearing a long black dress.

I was gonna go to the tarot lady around the block and ask her advice. She knows all about voodoo and wacky stuff, but she would probably scare the shit out of me. So I’m not.

Oh! Oh–

I’m going to tell the guy who has the ghost problem that we’re called the Ghost Crushers! Sounds MEAN, right?

I figure when I say it, I’ll snarl and make a fist, then give him a forearm salute.

When we’re there if I see a ghost, I’m gonna slam dance like a nut and throw the holy water.

I have no idea what to do about his kid that’s possessed.

Wish us luck.

–Baldie

Btw, I’m scared out of my wits and haven’t left my apartment yet.

—

Here are all the posts in this series: Episode Twelve – June 2009 (Ghost Crushers!)

Twitter Money Millions

Bald Punk THE EXORCIST

Ghost Crushers Are On The March!

BACK FROM MY FIRST EXORCISM

Date With The Devil

Here are my STORIES and info on my Novels

Ok, I screwed up yesterday. The guy in Marine Park doesn’t want me to exercise his ghost. He wants me to perform an exorcism and get the thing outta his house.

My lady friend(LF) is looking at me like it’s my mistake. But the guy had an incredibly thick accent. Plus when I heard $500 smack-a-roonies, he might as well have hung the phone up on me, because my mind went all lady-gaga.

Though now that I’m trying to remember what he said, I think his kid might be possessed by the ghost. I really couldn’t understand him.

Deep breath.

I have no idea what I’m gonna do. Actually, I do, because I want the money.

I’m going there and gonna do nutty stuff and hope he pays me.

I’m definitely bringing Scrappy D. I take him on the subway all the time. I put the little bastard under my shirt, and he’s pretty cool about it. Plus I like the way he feels against my chest. I hope that’s not perverted. But I have a feeling you’ll let me know. (Could you be a little nicer in your emails, please. I never said I was Gandhi.)

I’m also gonna bring my LF, a) because she’s awesome, and b) because she’s way more saintly than I am, and I think that’s what it will take to do this.

As far as I see it the only way I can screw this up is if the pizza and Chinese delivery guys(aka num and nuts) come . . . my LF just told me that they are.

I usually tell people num and nuts are foreign and that works. Though with this guy who’s a foreigner???

Honestly, I’m kinda confused about the whole thing anyway. So–

I’m gonna wing it.

I’ll probably mumble a lot and seem like I’m deep in concentration, which worked really well in high school.

Yeah, okay, a plan’s forming–

I’ll get back to you ASAIFTO(as soon as I figure things out).

—

Here are all the posts in this series: Episode Twelve – June 2009 (Ghost Crushers!)

Twitter Money Millions

Bald Punk THE EXORCIST

Ghost Crushers Are On The March!

BACK FROM MY FIRST EXORCISM

Date With The Devil

Here are my STORIES and info on my Novels

I’m in the Money!!! I’m in the Money!!! I just joined Twitter last week and watching all those people tweeting about how to make money is wearing off. Because, drum roll please . . .

 I’m making 500 hundred bucks tomorrow night for doing absolutely nothing. And that’s the fact, Jack!

I’m sitting here at the computer telling my lady friend while I type. But she’s not paying attention. She and the pizza and Chinese delivery guys(aka num and nuts) are watching that Real Housewives of New Jersey crap, and she has no time for her Baldie.

Num and nuts are the only two guys in the entire world watching it. That show doesn’t even play in Greenwich Village.

Did I ever tell you that my lady friend is secretly a NY METS fan? Of course num and nuts are – “They would root for Boston if she did!”

She’s booing and now so are they, but they all know it’s true.

Now she’s paying attention–

She says “hello” to you and so do num and nuts do, but only because she did first.

Now that everyone’s listening, here’s the dealio:

I told this guy at work about how we have a ghost, and we’re all friendly and shit with it. Lo and behold, he gets his landlord on the phone and zip bang boom, I’m going over to his house in Marine Park Saturday night to exercise his ghost for $500 bucks!

Yo! Who’s better than me!

I’m spending every last dime on food and beer and plan to pass out from beer-austion.

I figure me and Scrappy D can handle it.

I’ll let him loose in the guy’s house, and he’ll run around like a nut. I’ll point shit out, maybe bring a tennis ball and some chicken skin. Scrappy loves that shit. He’ll tear the place up.

He’s gonna exercise that ghost so good that the bastard who owns the place will bring us back all the time.

Hold on while I get up and do a little dance called “I’m in the money, I’m in the money . . .”

Brb!!! I’m dancing like a nut.

–Baldie

Btw, here I am on Twitter: http://twitter.com/BaldPunk

Let’s go Yankees!!!

—

Here are all the posts in this series: Episode Twelve – June 2009 (Ghost Crushers!)

Twitter Money Millions

Bald Punk THE EXORCIST

Ghost Crushers Are On The March!

BACK FROM MY FIRST EXORCISM

Date With The Devil

Here are my STORIES and info on my Novels

(Casper – The Friendly Ghost)

Okay, I can’t take back what I posted the other night. I won’t, and you know I’m pretty honest with you. Eh, mofo–

So here’s the deal. We still got the ghost roaming our apartment—to be fair, I think he goes all over the building.

You should hear this place when no one’s screaming or the music isn’t blasting from one of the other pads. It was pretty creepy with all the weird noises.

Maybe it’s a blessing that our neighbors are AM/FM all-the-time.

As far as what happened with us possibly being spooked out of our apartment—

My lady friend(LF) cut that in the bud. You know how cool she is, and she sometimes just knows what’s right.

She sensed I wasn’t keen on the ghost, and she knows the pizza and Chinese delivery guys(aka num and nuts) are whacked.

So yesterday she comes out with, “How lucky are we that we have a ghost?”

I’m not gonna go into how num and nuts were all bug-eyed, and how long it took for them to understand that she was “okay with it” – or that it took about an hour for them to get up the courage to act normal.

Let me put it this way, num and nuts would race off a cliff if she told them to. I know that, and so do you. But since she seems okay with the ghost, they have no alternative. It’s how they’re wired.

You gotta see them now.

They are like looking into the corners of the room, at the ceiling and blinking and making believe that they’re seeing shit–like we have a dozen ghosts. They’re whacked.

I tell you though, it’s getting on my nerves a little. I would toss them out the window if it wasn’t for my LF.

Calm down!!! I’m joking, plus we have a fire escape. Ha! Ha!

But if I yell “BOO,” they’ll bounce off the ceiling.

Right now they’re watching an episode of Ghost Hunters that I saved on the DVR, which in the past they’d watch through their fingers.

Yet all of a sudden, they’re thinking they have something in common with those bastards, like they could crawl through a pitch black hole filled with spiders and ghost breath.

No way, no how!

In my arms is Scrappy D. He’s my dog and nobody else’s.

(Scrappy Doodles – Photo by Bald Punk)

I’m about to take him for a long walk. The sun is finally out in NYC after a month of rain. Hence, the rest of the world will get the sun when we’re done with it. That’ll be about two weeks of darkness for you guys. Sorry.

Okay, I figure I’m gonna strut my stuff along Broadway, listen to some meringue blasting on the streets of New York, and take in all the wanton glares from todas las chicas bonitas.

Hey, did you know that Broadway has been around since even before we were a Dutch Colony? It was originally the Wickquasgeck Trail, carved into the brush land of Manhattan by the Indians!!!

And where do you live?

You gotta see me and Scrappy on the street! You know I’m the king of the mofos. Me llamo EL SENOR! Y Scrappy’s EL PERRO GRANDE!

Eh, papi!

I told you how my LF does the impossible, by making me look even better. Well, Scrappy definitely helps me groove into my punk strut.

Look out ladies, here we come!

Your bud,

Baldie!

—

Here are all the posts in this series: Episode Eleven – June 2009 (The Ghost!)

Guess What We Have In Our Apartment???

We Are Ghost Watching!

I saw the GHOST Again!!!

Our Apartment is Ghost Friendly

Here are my STORIES and info on my Novels