Landing strips for gay aliens

You know what Stuart? I like you. You’re not like the other people here in Austin. They’re all liberal permissives. Don’t get me wrong, they’re all decent folk. Except for the loose morals and the bubonic tacos. They like to sit around in dark bars with red lights, and kick back with Jim and Jack all night long.

Anyway, that Mario Linguine kid, he was poking fun at the rest of the kids in borstal the other day. He’s an Eye-talian – says that in Eye-taly, no-one wants to grow up to be a fireman, they all want to be Ferrari drivers. They want to smear their knees onto the engine of a supercar as it disinitegrates into the walls of one of those casinos in the Monaco grand-prix.

But that little Erehard boy, the one who’s mother lost a leg on the waltzers at Magic Mountain? Well he pipes up and says he wants to drive oil tankers when he grows up. That’s why he’s always boosting Lincoln Continentals. Now the ’86 model is a classic. 5 liter plant, almost 5 tonnes of street barge. Pure luxury too, so everything’s electric – even though you have to start turning an hour and a half before you get to a corner. They have special tarmac circles built on floating foundations in the sea on the East and West coasts so you can turn the things when you run out of highway.

But those punks are all wrong, Stuart. If you’re going to take to the roads, you gotta have protection. What with the high plains werewolves and the urban vampires. You’ve seen the vampires. Faces smeared in makeup. Drinking blood in dingy nightclubs. With rollerskates on. So that’s why I got me a silver bullet. Imported from Van Helsing country – somewhere in Scandanavia. I got me a silver Saab 900. Ain’t no-one gonna mess with me. You know what, I like you Stuart. You’re not like the other vampires, here in the trailer park.

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