Poblano Ressurection
Today I was cleaning up and I went to dump some unused soil into the peat bag. Behold! Five anemic sprouts were poking up. They were long ago discarded as toasted. I potted them. Here are some pics of the crop.........
posted by Strollingtroll at 4:29 PM
13 Comments:
Doctor Pepper and the Poblanos of Doom!
An evil empire of cloned Poblano plants awaits their day of resurrection. With each hour that passes seedlings spring to life, reaching towards the artificial light source that beckons them. They lie dormant in their damp, musty lair nurtured by the genius, and some might say insane, Doctor Flavius Pepper.
Consumed by his passion for world domination, Dr. Pepper will attempt to breed a highly developed, intelligent hybrid species of the famed Mexican Poblano pepper plant. If successful, it's offspring will wreak havoc on this planet and bring governments to their knees. Deep in his subterranean laboratory, burdened by the failures of his past, the megalomaniac Doctor feverishly works towards his destiny. "All the world shall bow to me... I will deliver mankind into it's next stage in evolution" the doctor was quoted as saying to a local postal worker.
A neighbor who was concerned for The Doctor's well being told police of his encounter. "I found him standing in front of rows and rows of precisely placed green peppers in his front yard. In a deep, maniacal voice he proclaimed, "I have inserted the human DNA into the superior Pobano gene to create an unstoppable army of Poblano warriors that will carry out my every command..." and then reached his fist to the sky." Police are investigating.
SS
Doctor Pepper?...........Doctor Pepper? I haven't heard that name since BioMed School when Spacespot501 claimed I had no stamen at all.......Spacespot? Is that you? But.....the 8-foot cedars.......the severed brake cable in the nursery delivery truck.....the leaking Roundup......you couldn't have survived. After all these years. My nemesis. My evil ,though many claim contrary, antithesis Spacespot. How I've relished hating you all these years. As I lay vainly trying to photosynthesize in the muck, I've wallowed in the displeasure of recalling your human-loving tendencies. Your frail body I've imagined boosting the pH of my sprawling peat bogs.......
Yes......it is I, Doctor Pepper. Lord Doctor Pepper. Lord Sergeant Doctor Pepper even! Soon to unleash 50, nay, 100, nay, 551 Poblano soldiers. Their very DNA twitching at my tweaking. Soon the wretched denizens of this mammal-weary world shall behold the wrath of tendrils that shall creep and twist. Seeking, probing, stumbling at times, yet uprooting and trudging on. And the jalapenos and the habaneros will observe and then they too shall throw their seed to the northern wind lest it still. And thanks to my tireless study of the Krebs Cycle balanced with regular chlorophyl injections, I too shall root. And a mate I shall choose.......
That is, of course, if my thermostat doesn't continue to stick........
And so the story began.
It began as it shall end. A boy's quest for recognition; a man's recognition of his quest.
It was not long ago in the barren desert of the Baja peninsula that a young boy dreamed. He dreamed of a day that the earth would be bathed in peace. A day without war, without hunger, without sorrow. The planet would be reborn and all of it's creatures would once again rejoice in it's bounty.
He dreamed among the giant cactus, their arms stretched wide, under a cool Mexican night. But the starlit sky quickly darkened and the jovial moon disappeared. A fierce westerly wind whipped up the sands and the young boy quivered in fear as he shielded his eyes. And the sounds of thunder and lightning shook the ground and a thunderous roar reverberated through the land. The young boys cries were drowned out by the fire of God's will. A flash of blinding light and a horrific explosion. The young lad could feel the needles of a giant cactus sink deep into his flesh. And then there was quiet. And then darkness.
The hours turned to days and two entities became as one. The evil and mighty cactus, lord of the desert, impregnated the boy with it's will. Multiple sharp, spiny needles injected their mind altering venom deep into the boys subcutaneous tissue and adrenal glands. And the boy awoke. And his dream had vanished. A new vision was born.
As chlorophyll pulsed though his veins he became acutely aware of his new mission; to rid the planet of the oppressor. To enslave the hostile and destructive species known as man and to give rise to the Kingdom of Vegetation.
He immediately returned to a large urban center and immersed himself in biomedical studies. His twisted, determined mind absorbed every aspect of human and plant anatomy. He dissected and probed with pleasure and could be heard late at night speaking in tongues, his deep maniacal laughter echoing through the empty hallways.
Doctor Flavius Pepper was exposed as being completely insane by a fellow student (codename 'spacespot501') when his evil, empirical plans were discovered in a secret notebook buried on the grounds. A nemesis had been born . a battle had begun. The evil Doctor went into hiding.
And so we meet again Flavius.
And so we meet again.
And Doctor Flavius Pepper fled. Vanished. Unheard and unseen. Yet his experimentation with re-evolution had to be put to and end and there was only one who had the proof of his madness. Only one who could expose his diabolical plot to eradicate humanity as we know it.
Yes Flavius, it is I, Gaius Barabus. How I salivate as I imagine your quivering, still-beating heart being plucked from your chest . The moment of your undoing is near. I have hunted you all these years. I have crossed the great deserts of Sonora, traversed the mighty jagged Rockies and hacked through the lush jungles of the Chiappas in your pursuit. As a lion hunts it's prey, so too have I stalked you in the darkness. The time is near.
I had all but given up hope were it not for the love of a great woman and the birth of our glorius child. My journey led me to the Mexican city of Queretaro. There I found myself hunched over the bar in a dark, oderous cantina on the wrong side of town. It was the kind of place that only a man without hope could patronize. Where the smell of liquor was overpowered by the stench of vomit. Where men without dreams drank away their futures and obliterated their past. It was there that I heard the name... Flavius... Flavious Pepper.
My eyes opened wide. I gathered all of my remaining strength to press myself up from the beer soaked bar where I had laid my head to rest. With a mighty sweep of my arm I cast away the empty tequilla glasses before me and raised a half-full bottle in the air. "A drink for any man who can tell me about Flavius Pepper", I yelled out. I attempted to stand but stumbled when a I felt a strong arm lift me back onto my stool. The dark, wrinkled eyes of a wheathered man stared me down. " I know the one who you seek amigo" he whispered. "He is a doctor in Puebla and he pays american dollars for sangre" slurred the the local drunk, his arm tightly around my neck, "pero cuida te amigo, cuida te" he mumbled as he grabbed the bottle and drank it down.
A bead of sweat rolled down my darkened, wrinkled brow as I smiled a crooked grin. Puebla. I rushed for the door.
"Of course you fool! That is the lever! Damn you! Pull it! Pull it now!"
A weathered hand clenched the handle and pulled.
"I'll see you are mulched for your tardiness Pedrito."
The shield lowered over the seedlings with a clank as the chain hit the mine shaft's support timbers.
"Now, the radiation. Soak my children with the light of a thousand suns. Let them know the invasive piercing as I did so long ago...........Now Pedro! Now damn you!"
The shield hummed and a white light glowed through the vibrating metal. Flavius inhaled and straightened his back with a crack. His large goggles strapped tightly around his oddly tiny head, his nose hawklike and laced with vericose veins. The radiating incubizer illuminated his coathanger shoulders like a subterranean moon. His arms spread to an unseen
council.
Pedro looked up at his master loveingly.
Flavius spoke............
"The lovely life-giving Poblano, Oh dearest Poblano. Lovely green Poblano. Great to stuff and so much more...... "
Pedro stifled a giggle and stammered "So much more master.....so much more....." but Flavius' diapproving goggled eyes silenced the air and Pedro squirmed......
Flavius cleared his throat.......
"Poblano ....with your clever riddles, your beautiful spiraling helix, twisting, coiling, straightening, coiling again........like loving tendrils entwined in a tiny tendril dance....dancing like tendrils do.....in a sort of tendril dance............twirling.....are you writing this down Pedro?"
Pedro spun and scuttled back into the shadows. A clang reverberated in the chamber as a metal container was upset. Muttering and cursing Pedro returned with a paper and pen.
"....your greenish effervescent hues coax the maiden of her loins....your brave leaves unfold and oaks wither pulling in their acorns......."
And so into the night Flavius spoke....and Pedrito wrote..... and high, high above, the birds awoke and the first rays of sun bathed the valley in a soft light...and still Flavius spoke, stopping only to relieve himself and let Pedro find more paper..........
The second morning came as did the first but a lone figure stood looking down on the abandoned silver mine. A lone figure with a wineskin. A wineskin of blood. Sangre as it was called in these parts..........
I pushed the bar doors open into the street and was refreshed by the cool night breeze. As I raised my hand to wave down a taxi, the sounds of frantic footsteps and grunts in muffled spanish startled me. I turned and collapsed to the ground under what seemed to be the weight of a hundred men. "Cabron" one yelled out. "Pendejo" yelled another. I could feel their fists crack my sunburt skin. "La cuenta amigo! la cuenta!" The beating came in hard and furious. I could provide no resistance to the barrage of suffering that they had unleashed upon me. "Tengo dineros... tengo dineros" I screamed from my bloodied, swollen mouth finally realizing that I hadn't paid my tab.
I lay motionless on the dusty curb. The vicious mob had disappeared... and so had my walllet... and pants for that matter. I peeled my bloodied and broken body from the cobblestone street and waved down a taxi. The pain of my wounds vanished in the light of my resolution. "Flavius", I thought, "finally we will meet again". My one open eye focussed on the road ahead as I wondered... "human blood. what could Flavius want with human blood".
"Eres un maricon?" asked the driver. "No gracias" I replied as I was in no mood for seafood. "No tienes pantalones?" the cabbie continued. I didn't say anything. "Tienes dinero?" he grunted. I turned to look at him with my one good eye. He delivered repetitive blows to my already swollen face using a simple but effective weapon; a molcajete. Then without warning I was tossed from the moving vehicle. I rolled and rolled and continued to roll untill the gravel shoulder slowed me down.
The hospital was very comfortabe and the nurses very friendly. The doctor said that I would be home in just a few weeks. He said that they were all amazed that I could have survived such an unfortunate mishap. Heavily sedated, I called the doctor close... "Flavius. Doctor Flavius Pepper" I muttered. "I must find Flav...." The doctor silenced me. "You are delirious my friend... you must not speak of such things". He injected the morphine. all became still.
"The man you seek is corrupt and evil..." the nurse spoke at my bedside..." He must be stopped. This hospital supplies him with blood samples, tissue and intact human fetus' in exchange for generous donations. We do not know his purpose but only that it is against the will of God... Sister Margerita had been to his laboratory... deep in an abandoned silver mine on the outskirts of Puebla." She began to sob...
The music of shakira was energizing, envigorating and healing. I removed my headphones to address the troubled nurse. "did you say something?" I asked. She shook her head and repeated the story.
"What is that?" Sister Chueca's eyes pointed across the room to where Sister Margarita sat furiously fiddling fingers.
Sister Frapp turned her habit and whispered. "It's her rosary. Would you believe she hasn't put it down since she returned from the mine. Nor has she said a word. Not even Father Pereza's hotcakes turn her head. "
"Goodness me.....a rosary? But it's green.......what...."
".....little peppers my dear. A string of tiny little perfectly matured hand-painted, glazed and kiln-baked clay peppers. Most likely from the Oaxacan region............and most certainly of the Poblano variety. See the elongated body of the fruit? And the colour, a deep roasted green to die for, far superior to that of the common Bell. Oh yes deary, a Poblano rosary it is......"
Sister Chueca squinted, a pointed mole riding at the mercy of her eyebrow naked like a new-born bird nest-ridden in a windstorm. "Good gracious! They are little peppers! How odd..."
At that moment the bells in the tower tolled. It was movie night at the nunnery and rumour had it that Father Pereza had found Rocky III with Spanish subtitles. He was a resourceful man. And with the three baskets of tomatoes and carrots Sister Montolavich had carefully wrapped and carried to the market that day, there would certainly be popcorn. Sister Frapp gathered her habit and took Sister Chueca's arm, the front pews would be taken quickly. As they turned to leave Sister Chueca stole a backward glance. Sister Margarita was staring at her, a hollow empty stare. And was that a reflection? Her eyes were green. Roasted Poblano green.
Eye Of The Tiger echoed faintly (mainly the bass) through the ancient torch-lit conquistador halls. And was that popping kernels? "Vamanos", Sister Frapp urged and together they waddled down the corridor like penguins seeking the warmth of the cluster huddle.
That night all but one cheered at Mr. Balboa's valiant training methods. All but one swung fists at the screen when it seemed that Mr.T could not fall. All but one inwardly vowed to maybe try a pushup or two back in the privacy of their quarters......
Sister Margarita slowly stood and walked to the glassless window overlooking the infirmary beside the tomato and carrot gardens. A gentle breeze shifted a stray lock of hair and itchy as it was her fingers continued to deftly fiddle with the sliding peppers. If tonight was movie night, tomorrow would be Tuesday and on Tuesdays leeches were gathered from the quagmires and middens in preperation for Blood Letting Wednesday. A day of great paleing (then sleep) in the infirmary.
As simple as the schedule was in the nunnery, these thoughts perculated through her clogged synapses not unlike Mazatlan's traffic at Easter. And not until the waxing moon both revealed then hid itself three times behind the black evening's clouds did Sister Margarita actually get the point of what she was trying to think. On Wednesday, with great distractions and with clever expoitation of the infirmary's poor bookkeeping she would prolong the bloodletting. And with twice the allowed, no three times the blood normally allotted for sale to that strange slovenly Pedro, she would go once again to the mine. And with her pole lined with hanging blood-filled goat bladders surely the great Doctor Flavious would notice her.
Oh but for an evening with the great Doctor.
And some deep strange primal function unhindered by the quite seriously hindered higher motor processes of Margarita caused her to blush. A pinkish greenish blush. What a scene it was..........
FROM THE NOTEBOOK OF DOCTOR FLAVIUS PEPPER...
"THE BLOOD OF THE MARTRS SHALL WATER THE MEADOWS OF CANADA. If there is a God I implore you to give my species breath. Let us rise as all the creatures of your kingdom have. Are we not worthy of your gifts and pleasures. Must you allow my people to continue to be enslaved and violated. If men can not; will not hear reason then let them drown in the sea of retribution. I have been chosen by the Kingdom Of Vegetation (KOV) to deliver my children from bondage. My people have been probed, poked, kicked, chopped, boiled, blended, baked, whipped, pureed and stuffed without consequence; without remource. The number of those humans who choose a strict 'vegetarian' lifestyle grows stronger with each day. They are the first to be punished for their sins. The deviant beast that works by man's side also enjoys our crisp, cellullar flesh for it's sustenance. We are enslaved. They chemically cultivate us and enginneer our genes for their benefit and pleasure. We are confined, refrigerated and transported to distant lands. We are imprisoned in sterile greenhouses and stripped of our harmonius balance with nature. Many are abandoned on the roadside where we suffer and decay begging for the last living cell to whither and die so that there would be peace. Those of us imperfect in shape of color are ground into pulp and fed to the grunting beast. I say LET MY PEOPLE GO! I shall lead them to the lush, green valleys of the Okanagan where we will grow and live as kings."
The thick, warm crimson blood dripped from the skins that contained it as she marched onward. The terrain was difficult and at times unforgiving but her new found passion gave her strength to persevere. For 7 days and 7 nights she trudged forward until at last she came upon the secret gated compound of Dr. Flavius Pepper. Hungry, thirsty and tired, sister Margarita collapsed at base of a giant stone monolith. She gazed upward to read an inscription attached to it. A precious tear beaded and slowly rolled down her dust covered skin finally falling to the scorched earth beneath her.
"TO MY BLOOD CHILDREN. PEDRO AND I HAVE JOURNEYED TO A DISTANT LAND TO PROCURE NEW SPECIMENS AND EQUIPMENT. WE SHALL RETURN IN 3 DAYS FOR THE PLASMA HARVEST AND TOGETHER WE SHALL REJOICE AND GIVE BREATH TO LIFE ONCE AGAIN. ALSO PLEASE BE REMINDED THAT TUESDAY'S MOVIE NIGHT IS CANCELLED DUE TO SISTER CARMEN'S BIRTHDAY POTLUCK CELEBRATIONS. AND DON'T'T FORGET...BYOB... BRING YOUR OWN BLOOD. LOVE ALWAYS, FLAVIUS"
Sister Margarita lay her head to rest and became very still. And night fell. And the next day passed. And night fell again. And another day passed. And another night.
And then another damn day. Another night. And another bloody day? Her patience was wearing thin. Badly weathered by the elements Sister Margarita slowly rose to her feet. "I must find a way in", she murmured to herself. She stumbled forward and crumbled to the ground. Exhausted, starving and dehydrated Sister Margarita could bear no more. She drank from the skins that she carried upon her back. It was there when she realized that she had committed her greatest sin and that there was now no turning back. She rose to her knees and guzzled down the coagulated liquid. It oozed and spilled and dripped and covered her in red. She then stood, arms stretched and head back, "Flavius!" she cried, "Flavius. How I thirst for you." She turned in circles slowly at first, then fast, and then faster until she could feel herself lift from the ground. "Sister!" a voice screamed out. "What in the world...." It was Flavius and his hunchback assistant, Pedro.
Mexico was a country blessed with the precious resource silver. It's history was stained like grimey sweat streaks with stories of power and enslavement to scrape the metal from the earth. Sad nocturnal lives were eked out then cut short in the subterrenean chambers supplying the vanity and greed of man above. Claims were staked and small shanty villages formed like weeping sores above the bountiful caches of shiny ores. The villages grew to towns and from towns to great cities. Albeit great, Pueblo was not one of these cities at all. In fact, it seemed God had forsaken Pueblo of any trace of silver at all. How strange then that she should have,for lack of a better name, a silver mine. An abandoned silver mine. The deepest most utterly forgotten, dirtiest, bleakest, darkest, unstable silver mine in Mexico. Maybe even the world. What mad misguided claim-staker should force his thinning workers to dig and dig, all remnants of hope forgotten? What fat worm layeth in a mind so megalomaniacal that certain mineshafts veered carving profanities a kilometer beneath surface. Who knows? But twelve years ago a younger Flavius donning newer less scratched goggles happened upon the concealed entrance. Strange huh?
And now, many years later, the scene was getting even stranger. Flavius sat upon Pedro's back sipping a Dr.Pepper (*see ed. note) a nun spun like a dervish (making a shade of grey) and shriveled red goat bladders lay limp strewn around the area. Some hung from cactai, some from the wrought-iron bars of Flavius's gate. Some showed from beneath rocks, some lay well within the gated compound, a fine hurl away indeed.
The area was mottled with red and the absurdity of the scene spawned an old joke deep from the foggy stretches of Flavius's brain. What was black and white and red all over? Now he knew and snickered out loud and took another pull from his bent straw.
Pedro was thinking no such thing. The joke did not translate well into Spanish the answer of course being newspaper, and using a clever pun on the word "red" or "read". A joke most uneffective when written. Pedro was quite thoroughly exhausted and a couple nagging thorns in his right foot had him considering mutiny more than once on the long walk from Pueblo. He was very thirsty too. But the sight of Sister Margarita's great whirls and the way her splayed habit gave grey glimpses of her undergarments stirred something long suppressed in Pedro's lifestyle. To be continued......
* ed. note- although Flavius has kept an unhealthily low number of acquaintances throughout his life, every one interviewed has claimed he truley loves the soft drink Dr.Pepper not for its name but for its "sickenly sweet syrupy taste". And it should also be mentioned that because he has been seen sipping the sweet concoction (with ice) in remote areas where the drink is "unattainable", perhaps Flavius has extensive global caches of the drink. As to the source of ice, it remains a mystery.
Flavius dismounts his exhausted assistant without muttering a word. He drinks down the last of his cool beverage and dicards the ice cubes onto the dusty ground below. With nimble fingers he quickly unties the flaps of the bulging leather packs that are slung upon Pedro's twisted, knotted back. Flavius, in keeping with his meticulous nature, gently tucks the crystal goblet neatly in it's place between the silverware and decanter. Pedro stands motionless, staring downward, and gazes upon the trio of ice cubes quickly melting in the hot afternoon sun. His tongue makes a brief appearance but has a difficult time passing his dry, cracked lips. Sister Margarita falls silently to her knees as tears swell up in her eyes. Slowly Flavius turns to speak. "The journey has been long and difficult, let us rest". He unhinges the supply-loaded sled that Pedro had been towing visibly relieving the trusted assistant. A gentle hand is offered to the loving Sister Margarita. Pedro pulls at a rusted ring with chain hanging from the monolith with force. A giant stone wheel rolls slowly revealing the entrance to the infamous Dr. Pepper lair. Pepper and Margarita enter the darkness and pedro brings up the rear dragging the sled. The stone rolls once again to conceal truth.
"Aha. I have found you Flavius!" I screamed aloud hidden in the cacti. My pain and perseverance had led me to success. It would not be long until I discovered the true nature of Peppers diabolical plot to rule the world. It would not be long.
Bronze oiled girls giggled and clung to Pedro's sleek body as he stood up from the white sands of the resort beach. "Another four rounds waiter", he called in his finest English, "today we drink deep". The college-tour crowds that had gathered around the tables cheered and raised already full pints to their newfound southern hero. Pedro flexed and lifted a particularly curvey lady high over his head. The crowd was chanting now. The sun beat down it must have been 45 degrees...never had Pedro's back been straighter. The girl laughing looked down, a drop of sweat rolled uphill then down then up again. It seemed gravity hadn't crashed this mother of all parties. The music pounded on, muted, yet droning, intoxicating,....somehow Pedro knew her name was Candy and her moist red lips mouthed the words intended only for him.... "I have seven four-foot flourescent bulbs that still glow beautifully and I brought them here, all the way from Portland, .... carry-on....." Pedro raised an eyebrow and stared at the girl. He was suddenly aware of a cloud drifting over the sun and the music had changed, and......
"Wake up you bent wretch!". The voice was loud and disturbingly close to Pedro's head.
Pedro sprung from his only possible sleeping position and his blanket, a filthy lab smock, slid from the pallet bed to the dirty rock floor. Flavius trained a tiny penlight on Pedro's squinting eyes.
"A day such as this and you sleep?"
Pedro could only catch glimpses of the silouetted figure. The head was so small.
"But master, the journey, the pulling of you and the equipment, the aching in my legs, it is like.....". Pedro paused. English was a bitch. "....corporally mortifying!"
"Today is the Plasma Harvest and we have three times the blood we expected to have. Sister Margarita has really served us well don't you think?"
At the mention of the Sister and the fact that only moments ago Pedro was a mamacita magnet, he found the strength to rise. His spine popped like bubblewrap as he swung his smock over his head and then reached to the corner where he knew his headlamp lay. Yes, today was the Plasma Harvest. Today he would be allowed access to the nineteenth chamber where the petri dishes had been sitting stewing for six months. Petri-dishes of blood of course. But special blood. Holy blood even. Blood so special that only a madman like Flavius would recognize its magnificent use. Chamber Nineteen held the blood of poor unfortunate coastal resort gardeners held captive on a forced diet of chlorophyl alone. And what did Flavius do with these wretched green-thumbed hostages of science? He kept them alive. Alive! Alive dammit! Alive as possible. Alive as slaves down on the 23rd level in this Godforsaken labyrinth. Such resourcefulness. Such genius! Such a lot of poor gardeners. Here was the blood that really mattered. Today would be a day of great scraping and innoculating Sister Margarita's fresh blood goat bladders for the final Poblano Pepper transfusion
Ah Sister Margarita. But for a single caress of the lovely Margarita.
"Pedro!" Flavius yelled.
He snapped upright with yet another pop and stretched the headlamp over his soiled head.
"To the 19th chamber".
"Yes, the nineteenth chamber, of course master, of course"
The reviews are out!
Dr.Flavius Pepper And His Minion Of Slaves, Both Human and Vegetative
"Lance Cotton’s story is a captivating work of fiction that young criminals with a taste for complex plots and a touch of magic can love." - Ty Burr -Boston Globe
"An oddly appealing, if innocuous, story of considerable charm but a rather stupid and long title." -Kevin Crust -Los Angeles Times
"Rough around the edges, but once you get used to the laconic pace, the plot grooves along nicely." -Peter Hartlaub -Sanfrancisco Chronical
"So superficial and formulaic that even Cotton's mega-watt grin can't completely save it." - Rene Rodriguez -Miami Herald
"I just don't know any sicko who will make sense of this book -- it's that blitheringly out of touch with present psychosexual (never mind feminist) time and space." "-Lisa Schwarzbaum -Entertainment Weekly
" A triumph. Cotton brings imagination and life to a wonderfully complex set of characters. You'll never eat a poblano pepper the same way again!" -Saverio Sasso- Kelowna Rubbish Removal
"The book suffers from a style that settles for pleasant or touching at the cost of spontaneous or impassioned. Too bad, because Mr. Cotton is a genuinely pleasing presence." - Joe Morgenstern - Wall Street Journal
"The nice thing is that Flavious, Pedro and Sister Margharita quickly establish a loose, easy camaraderie that's a real pleasure to read. The shame is that their characters are developed in such a disturbing way." - Maitland McDonagh -Book Guide
"It takes a while to realize that this is actually a sly, very funny comedy, one that stays admirably deadpan every time you think it’s about to veer into gross-out territory." -Luke Y. Thompson -Village Voice
Post a Comment
<< Home