Lemme tell you something…

A Day In The Life

Friends often slap me around a bit before saying, “Stay with me Feo! Feo! How many fingers am I holding up?”

To which I usually reply, “Holy crap! Where’d you get those bloody fucking fingers?”

But people also ask me, “Just what is a day in the life of Feo Amante like?”

Well the fact of the matter is, it’s none of your god damn business. But since I’m not a complete hermit, I’ll give you a peek into a day in the life of me!

Paul Newman in a sombrero in the Hispanice Food aisle of the WalMart!

Paul Newman on a jar of cheese, with a handlebar mustache, in a sombrero in the Hispanic Food aisle of the SpamFart.

(Loud Chorus of Angels!)

Let’s imagine that my day begins at my nearby Superstore, which in this case is a WalMart. In our current Capitalist paradise, I’m moseying along among my fellow citizens, when what do I spy but…

HISPANIC FOOD!

(Loud Chorus of Angels!)

WamLart has an entire section… well, half of a section. Well okay, about half of half of an aisle dedicated to Hispanic food! Now the wonderful ethnic people among us, contributing to our culture and life, have their own part of the grocery that they can call their own!

Yes they’ve really arrived!

With this section of a subsection in my local WoldeMort, in a state where the majority of citizens *are* Hispanic, they can truly feel their culture contributing its part to the great U.S. American diaspora!

And what is more intrinsically Hispanic than a jar of processed cheese featuring a smiling Paul Newman wearing ratty mustache and a sombrero?

Can’t you just feel that national pride beaming from the hand-drawn face of Paul Newman: Star of such movies as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (where his character is shot to death by Hispanic soldiers)?

Oh My Screaming God! (that would be Azathoth, the mad, one-eyed, etc.) Paul Newman’s corpse must have really REALLY arrived to be a part of the multi-cultural history and traditions inherent in the Hispanic Food section!

Oh, if only he was still alive to enjoy it this moment that I’ve been fortunate enough to capture for the ages in a photograph.

See, this is just part of the excitement of being me: Making New Discoveries.

These are the things that touch my artistic soul.

I’m saying soul in a metaphoric sense, not a euphoric one.

Canadian Sock Monkey!

Canadian Sock Monkey!

Now let’s leap from Mexico to Canada!

Mainly because I want to show off my Canadian Sock Monkey image, which could be available as a T-Shirt and is already available as a coffee mug, print, and who knows what else at DeviantArt.com.

Okay, so how do you know it’s a Canadian Sock Monkey?

It’s wearing a tuke (or toque, or even tuque. Heh! Canadians!).

But more to the point –

You like sock monkeys?

Seriously, do you?

You do?

Well that’s not good enough.

You’ve got to LOVE sock monkeys! You’ve got to have a Screaming Orgasm – or at least a Sex On The Beach – when you see a sock monkey to come from where I’m coming from.

Yes, when you see a sock monkey, you’ve got to be so damn awed you need to reach for a behavior altering alcoholic beverage!

Truthfully, a shot of whiskey will work.

It doesn’t have to be a complicated drink like a Sex On The Beach. Most people don’t keep all the mixings on hand to make a drink like a Sex On The Beach at home anyway. You’d be surprised how many people get home and they forgot the Peach Schnapps. And there’s no Beach without the Peach.

Then it’d just be Sex. And you don’t want just sex, do you?

Although you may want to have sex with a sock monkey if you REALLY love them (see what I did there?). Lots of socks get loving, though few are sock monkeys.

Wine Monkey! It's a Sock Monkey condom for your wine!

Wine Monkey! It’s a Sock Monkey condom for your wine!

So have I got you in a good alcoholic sock monkey mood yet?

Good! Then if you need to reach for a drink every damn time you see a sock monkey, let me present…

WINE SOCK MONKEY!!!

Oh My Fucking GOD! (that would be the goddess of sex, Oshun. Look it up). A sock monkey to keep your wine warm!

Now this next step is vital.

Because what’s important is planning ahead. So get the garden hose ready: you’ll need it!

Get a shovel and dig a hole in the backyard because you’ll need a deep one for what is about to happen to your friends.

Did I forget anything?

No, I just haven’t finished.

Better set a plastic drop cloth beneath your dinner table before everyone sits down, because they will absolutely Shit themselves when they see you bring out the wine in a motherfucking Sock Monkey Wine Warmer!

Why the hell would anyone want their wine warm?

Who the hell cares?

That’s not the point!

It’s a god damn oven mitt for your wine!

And when they’ve cleaned themselves and you’ve dropped the soiled plastic drop cloth in that backyard hole? Better lay out another sheet in the living room (although by this time the drop cloth should arouse suspicion), because your guests will (on the other hand, who knows what they’ll think after they’ve had enough warm wine?), puke in sheer ecstasy when the game you bring out to play is none other than…

Sock Monkey Foosball!SQUEE!!!

Sock Monkey Foosball!
SQUEE!!!

SOCK MONKEY FOOSBALL!!!

What insane genius is inventing this crazed, brilliant crap?

Wherever they are, I hope they are breeding more of their kind! The planet needs to be overrun with such people (it’s the only reasonable thing that could possibly stop the Zombie Apocalypse.  Not to mention the upcoming Alien Invasion*. Truthfully, the Asteroid Holocaust will probably be a wash. I don’t see any amount of foolhardy behavior offsetting that one).

*No, not the Hispanic one

Okay, okay, let’s slow this down now, because after those three things my heart was about to burst from my chest. In fact, when I bent over to pet our cat, blood squirted out from my eyes. You’d think that cats would just dig the living shit out of getting shot in the face with hot human blood, but you’d be dead wrong!

Cats hate that shit.

I’m simply stating fact.

So calm yourselves. Breath deep. Come on, simmer your shit the fuck down, muchacho!

God damn. This is why I don’t hang out with you people. You don’t know how to be cool.

Okay, are we all little Fonzies now? Good.

This one is for the old fogies.

Remember Spirograph? Before the age of highly advanced computers and graphics programs and the people who actually knew how to use the damn things, we made art with ball point pens. Write on, brothers, write on! With a nylon tip Write Bros. pen!

With Spirograph by Hasbro, a clod with any half-assed manual dexterity could make fascinating, mathematically pure rings of intrinsic detail to send any budding M.C. Escher racing to the shower to rub out a quick one.

Yes, you old fogies, you KNOW those were the motherfucking days. Kids today, they have no respect. And you should know because you let the TeeVee and Barney the Purple goddam dinosaur raise your lazy murder of dim-witted boobs. And those dim-witted boobs are now the proud parents of drooling tools whose faces are spittle-glued to their iPhones.

But let’s set your worthless parenting skills aside for the moment because…

Look at what I saw in the Barnes and Noble last night –

THE BOX!

THE BOX!

It’s the goddam motherfucking SPIROGRAPH!

Okay, okay, it’s not “called” a Spirograph” (likely for lawyer reasons), but Paul Beck’s creation does what the Spirograph did!

*And* Barnes and Noble had the sucker on sale!

Am I shitting you?

The back of THE BOX!

The back of THE BOX!

Nay! I shit thee not!

Whew!

So after such a reckless day of stroke inducing excitement, me and the missus, ended this rollercoaster trainwreck by hitting the La Madeline, catching a few hot bowls of Tomato and Basil soup (I’d walk a mile for a hot bowl of La Madeline’s Tomato and Basil soup! Add a handful of shredded mozzarella cheese on top: Blissful Perfection!), bread, and coffee. Then I sat my insufferably cute self right down and kicked my boots up beside the fireplace on a cold winter’s night.

Kickin' it by the fire

Kickin’ it by the fire

See you at Feo Amante’s Horror Thriller.

Adios from 2012, amigos!


Live a little when you buy my book
pb300PERPETUAL BULLET: A Science Fiction Collection
A trove of previously published Science Fiction Horror Thriller – plus bonus stories
Featuring: True Love, Weird Sex, Monsters and Mayhem!
Now on sale for $9.00 in Trade Paperback and in eBook for $2.99 and available for your Android Tablet, iPad, Kindle, Nook, and every other “E”!
Find it at (Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Diesel, !ndigo, iTunes, KoboBooks, Smashwords, WHSmith, and more).

Find my second collection, WILLOW BLUE and Other Stories
Five critically acclaimed tales featuring my literary twist on Weird Sex, True Love, Monsters and Mayhem! On sale for $1.99 and available for your Kindle reader and App!

Look for my story Cedo Looked Like People, in the anthology, FEAR THE REAPER, edited by Joe Mynhardt. Available from Crystal Lake Publishing and available in Print for $12.99 or eBook for $2.99.

Also available from Crystal Lake Publishing, the film making guidebook, HORROR 201: The Silver Scream. Reap the rewards of movie making experience from the likes of Myself as well as Ray Bradbury, John Carpenter, Wes Craven, Tom Holland, Jeffrey Reddick, George A. Romero, Keith Arem, Richard Gray, and many more. $19.99 in Print or $3.99 in eBook.

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One response

  1. You have a great site over here. I just wanna say thanks for all the interesting info on it. I’ll follow your website if you keep up the good work!

    January 29, 2013 at 4:20 am

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