C'mon take me to the Mardy Grass -Task 6

Wha t' fu*k Mardy Grass

The Mardy Grass is moving on a pace. The hippies of the world, having finally remembered what they were doing in Sam Planks Disco in the 1960’s have congregated like a flock of lemmings in the middle of the largest field of Marijuana in the known Universe, which was fortunately next door to the Big Blogger House, (beware BB and LB I believe the DEA have their eyes on you) The DNA of these ancient hippies had been so sensitised to the impact of TCP that the slightest smallest ion of the drug wisping around the jet streams had drawn them there like ants to sugar or hermesetas if they were on a diet.

Their straggly grey hair waving in the wind, they had placed one veined foot encased in jesus sandals in front of the other, until they had reached that sacred place. The time of the Mardy Grass!

‘Maaaaan its like a festival’ screamed one ravaged dude, ‘Yeah maaaan Woodstock’, another drooled in awe.

‘Hey I thought I saw Dylan ‘growled another corpselike antiquarian, whose aluminium walker had been wrapped in rainbow ribbons

‘Nah that was Keef maaan’, another twitched as he grabbed the reefer the bearded one was huffing on

‘Look that’s my Mary Jane’ he screamed

‘No it’s my Blow’ a raddled blond 60’s clone with Gypsy skirts twirling around varicose encrusted legs hooted

‘Whose had my wacky tabbacy’ a hippie declaimed from the stage as he adjusted his hearing aid wincing at the feedback, not from the Hendrix tapes but from the infernal machine plugged into his ear hole

‘If you don’t give me my hydro’, she hissed into his ear ‘I will rip your testicles off’ she grinned as she held a knife to his knob, the grizzed dude now regretted crawling into the tepee on hearing LA Woman by the Doors emanating from the smoke hole

‘Just say NO to the green goddess’the terribly important woman in pearls declaimed on the TV that had been left on in the corner, she was being studiously ignored by the cold stoned pensioners who were dribbling saliva over their rizlas

WHO HAS BEEN ROLLING J’s OF SKUNK ON MY LED ZEP COVERS mum muttered as she teetered on the edge of a nervous breakdown asshe chastised her sons who were flaked out watching MARDY GRASS on C4 compared by a totally zoned out celebrity of no account

MORE CHEEBA please please please the voice pleaded from under the encrusted duvet cover,mum reached over and peeked under the duvet, she recoiled as she saw minging ginger pop star who had been the focus of a recent charity concert and then had gone to earth. She sat next to her sons and rummaged through the roaches to try and calm the shakes that had started upon seeing that diamond encrusted grimace.

‘Heeeey maaaaaannnnnnn don’t bogart that homegrown maaaaannnnnn, its like so like bogus mannnnnn like’ chattered the thong ripping down the fence that surrounded the hemp field

Last dance with Mary Jane, one more time to kill the pain.
I feel summer creepin' in and I'm tired of this house again.

Sang some yankee dude strumming a guitar and pretending to be Bob Dylan

The summer of love was but a faded memory as these ancient hippies started to squabble amongst themselves and trample the grass into a soggy mess that would soon be remarketed as Hemp Tee shirts and Jeans at £50 plus per item. The Mardi Gras of their youth has lost its gleam and shine, the fun, the girls, the breasts all lost in the haze of drug induced visions of Nirvana.

They couldn’t remember if thay had indeed enjoyed watching Janis Jopin on Haight Ashbury in the 60’s or caught Hendrix at the Isle of Wight, now all that mattered was the blow, the mary jane and the occasional swig of fortified Wine made by Monks in some godforsken European country that wasn't Holland.

‘Come on take me to the Mardi Gras’ whispered the wind,

The aging crowd took up the buzz and sang along to Timon and Garglefarkle

Take your burdens to the Mardy Grass
Argue like fuck but can’t remember why
Let the blogging wash your soul
You can mongle in the house
You can jingle to the beat of the Cocktail maker
Tumba, tumba, tumba, Mardy Grass
Tumba, tumba, tumba, Arse

'Mm------------wibble' the most ancient and stoned dude muttered as Buddah exposed the wonders of the universe to him - well thats what he called them, having learnt his lesson reading about the Catholic priests in the News of the World!