sitting on the stoop of the junk shop during morning rush hour by matt moseman

The biggest ‘thing’ in rye is a fucking retirement home the size of Buckingham Palace. An apartment there costs about the same as it would across the pond. This rip-van-fucken-winkle-ass junk shop is patronized by the inmates whenever they can get out. It is filled with hideous old kitsch. The blue paint on the door is well into peeling all off. The whole façade has turned the grotesque fulvous tint of fifty year old cookbooks and the teeth of 78 year old smokers. I want my dentist to come here with a chainsaw. One of these days the proprietor will die and dozens upon dozens of wasps and yellow jackets will lay eggs in the carcass as it decays in the back room. A week later swarms of Hymenopterae will burst forth and descend upon the pitiful townies. swarms of sizes straight out of the Pentateuch—straight out of Moses’ schnoz. And the Jews will lock themselves jubilantly in the community synagogue and dance to ear-piercing klezmer because no one will brave the infestation of purchase street and try to make a run on any of the banks. By the first frost when the bugs will finally be finished off all the banks will have been mysteriously transmogrified into bagel shops.

Comments

[pete pick]

should that be "rip-van-fucken-wrinkle-ass"?

quite funny, i thought.