The Events Leading Up To My Cowsills Revelation
. . .
"Indian Lake" by the Cowsills echoed off the buildings from some nearby window. In that instant, I was certain God was either Casey Kasem or Dick Clark. "I love this song," said the fat little flower child within and I simultaneously. In an instant I was transformed a was my child within - from Dennis The Menace to a male prepubescent Cass Elliot. Music had that power over me, and this was one of my all-time favorite songs. I felt like a free spirit, like I should be covered with body paint and wearing a crown of daisies. I felt a crucial need to express my uniqueness in a creative fashion. Musically inspired, I super-glued bologna, cotto salami, spiced luncheon loaf, and bits o' cheddar loaf in an infinity symbol arrangements across their sliding glass door. Accompanied by the Cowsills, even vandalism seemed like a beautiful and mod statement.
. . .
The music had ended. I paused, balanced myself, and realized how drunk I really was. I wavered, rocked, closed my eyes, and smiled to think someone somewhere was just playing a quick 45 before bedtime. The three-minute orgasm. This had to be a good person - an asshole would never listen to the Cowsills before bedtime. I was tempted to yell "Hello," but yelling seemed unwise while vandalizing.
. . .