Jackylope and his sister Candylope were odd children indeed. They lived with their Aunt Martinez in a five story mansion on the hills overlooking the ocean. Jackylope was fluent in Argentinean and enjoyed canning exotic pickles. Candylope loved Busta Rhymes and dreamed of owning her very own record store. Their parents were in prison for grand theft auto. They had about thirteen years left of their sentence. Jackylope loved his parents, they were always good to him and his sister. Camping trips, fishing trips, mushroom trips. The stuff memories are made of, when mom and dad got popped, Jackylope and Candylope got sent to the mansion. They had to leave the oasis in the mountains in Paris. They weren’t really mountains, just a house made of twigs but it did it’s job. It kept em safe and since they were in the country illegally they were extradited back to the states.
At first the siblings resigned to their new life with Aunt Martinez, she had a collection of miniature bibles that she kept in a cookie jar. She had the biggest fattest cat named Billy Cooney whose favorite dish was fried pineapple. They did their chores and brushed their teeth. They prayed at night to whoever the hell was up there to bring their mommy and daddy back home soon. It wasn’t long before Jackylope had enough of Aunt Martinez, that bitch was crazy, stuffing her mouth full of bird feathers. Who does that? Either way he figured Candylope was bored as fuck too and probably wanted to leave as well. So they raided the medical cabinet in the bathroom and drugged Aunt Martinez, stole her stash of pearls a large wad of bills and committed the same crime that landed both of their parents in prison. Candylope drove of course, she learned how to drive from all them rap videos. They made it to a casino, bought a couple cheeseburgers from the garbage man and plotted their next move. Jackylope voted to sell the Buick for cash so they could buy a couple guns and break mommy and daddy out of prison. All Candylope had to do was act cute and it would probably work. So they sold the car to a drunk attorney and bought a couple tickets to Seattle. It was a long ways away from the mansion but they saw a bunch of cool shit, have you ever seen an elephant farm in the middle of nowhere? Then there was that hippie guy who was on the run from the man, he didn’t want to fight that war. The bus broke down in Fresno, they stayed on the bus and read each other’s fortunes. Judging by the amateur readings, Jackylope was destined to have seventeen children by twelve different women. His luck was lucky, always had been. Candylope was destined to become a fashion designer for celebrity dogs. Her death was timed at eighty six. When they finally made it to Seattle, they were unpleasantly surprised by the culture that perverted the state lines. An obese woman with a black eye asked for a cigarette, Candylope gave her a squished pall mall that the obese lady stuck behind her ear. It was raining, people driving drunk. Jackylope needed a gun, but first they needed ice cream. So they pooled their money together and came up with thirty six thousand four hundred and forty two dollars, a few quarters to call a cab which Jackylope called while Candylope flirted with idea of joining the circus. They took a cab to the fanciest hotel in town, the building was large, the windows stained glass. Jackylope tipped the cab driver fifteen bucks hauled their luggage through the spinning doors and found themselves in a very odd situation.
It was a biker convention. Supposedly a cop from Tacoma shot an unarmed drunk biker a couple years ago. The guy had just robbed a dollar store with a water gun that looked genuinely real. He escaped down the street on his motorized scooter, fleeing five miles fast. It had to have been beautiful, racing down the street pockets full of green onions and Bubba Yubba.
The cop that shot Earl Stringers said that Earl threw a sack of potatoes at his head. Missed him by that much, an inch or so but the cop frightened for his life reached for his pepper spray and accidentally grabbed his gun. He pointed and shot Earl Stringers dead.
Earl Stringers might have been a violent drunk who happened to do crazy things like robbing dollar stores but he was a good friend. Though in the end, a trait like that couldn’t save him from death.
Candylope twirled her hair as she endlessly eyed a young chap dressed to the nines in soft leather. He was fine as fuck in all that soft leather. He had to have an exotic name like Zeke or Jerome. She sauntered over to him, twirling her hair around her finger. He was even sexier up close, he had a tattoo of the grim reaper on his neck. His hair blond streaked with what looked like silver in the sun. His nose pierced with a simple stud, his face gaunt like he wished he was somewhere else. It was kinda romantic in front of the fireplace, pillars of plastic salt, swinging wicker baskets full of plastic flowers. Him somewhere else, Her possessed by the power a beautiful stranger possesses.
Meanwhile, Jackylope was upstairs in their 275.00 a night fancy dancy room that came with a rubber chicken, unpacking their few belongings. He desperately needed a gun, You just can’t break into a prison without one. He took a shower, shaved his head, threw on his dirty clothes and went to find Candylope who had a knack for trouble with men. He got downstairs and couldn’t find her, she wasn’t in the bathroom busting out rhymes, she wasn’t in the kitchen blowing the cook. There could only be one other place. So he walked up to the receptionist who was doing lines on the keyboard and asked, “Excuse me miss but I was wondering if I could possibly interrupt your binge to ask a question.”
The receptionist looked annoyed as she looked up at Jackylope.
the desert queen 