How I've tried to avoid this, from the first instant I uttered these words in the catbox. I do not want to be the one to give definition to this term, because it might mean that I'm one of a select group of inbred rednecks who have actually come face to face with this phenomenon. Well, face to "face" is not exactly correct . . . However, it seems incumbent upon me to carry this burden; to shoulder this load; to tote this barge and lift this bale . . .

I was introduced to the name for this concept by a young man called Crockett who looked just like Christ would have looked had he been doing an impersonation of Satan. He had the long brown hair and the thin goatee with the wispy whiskers on the cheeks. His eyes were a deep, dark color, and he often stroked his thin chin whiskers when in the throes of diabolical planning, or deep consternation.

We had been smoking Jamaican products and were damn near hyperbolic, if I remember correctly. It was around the fall festival time, and the air was quite cool and crisp. We were on our way to Fat Joey's house to complete the evening with some chilled beverages and late night television. I looked at Crockett in the VW minivan. He was stroking his chin. I knew no good could come of this. Was it a premonition?

We walked up the sidewalk to Fat Joey's house. The chin stroking became more fervent. What was his concern? Were the angels of his worst nature speaking to him? I reached to ring the doorbell beside the wooden door which opened up to a glass storm door inside. Crockett pulled my hand away and looked at me with those dark, Biblical eyes. I thought I saw fear in spirals of ether shooting sideways from his field of vision. "What is it?" I said, like the Maiden Fool from the Land of Dim.

Before he could answer, Fat Joey's old lady rang out a cheery, "Come in!" and I opened the wooden door. There, RIGHT THERE, pressed against the glass door, was Fat Joey's massive ass, cheeks pulled asunder in a display only suitable for the undead and even lesser creatures. Crockett reeled, like Christ in the wilderness suffering Satan's last and most desperate temptation. He screamed, "The Pressed Ham Red-Eye! Goddamn you Fat Joey. Goddamn you to Hell!"

After I got thru puking, we went inside and had some beers. I don't ever want to see that again.

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