Desert Plains

Hey, kids! The little chick and the guy've been busy lately, so I thought I'd tell you about my adventures, you know, while they're timely and all that.

I'm Belligero. I'm their travel clown. We go back a long way, the little chick and the guy and me. Remember when the MGM Grand Casino had an arcade and a kiddie park? Long time ago, maybe '94? They found me there and rescued me from a life of looking up at the underside of a bucket seat with chewing gum in my hair and a bent lollipop stick rammed up my ass. Rugrats. I shudder to think. There's more to it, but here's all you need to know. They saved me, and now when they go places, I go with 'em. No, it's not like that damn movie with the garden gnome. I'm a clown, fer Chrissakes.

Couple of weekends ago, they say they're going to Arizona, something about a car crushing robot dinosaur. I say, "Hey, sweet cheeks? I thought we were going to Italy. Why the f$%k are we going to the goddamn desert in the middle of the goddamn summer?"

"First of all, watch your mouth, clown. Second, Italy is next year, and third...technically it's springtime for another week...and it's my life's dream, one of them at least, to see a robot eat a car. Don't you judge me."

"Ari-f$%king-ZONA???"

"What did I just say? Watch that mouth! Do you want to go, or would you prefer a weekend of quiet reflection in the middle of the laundry pile?"

"Saddle up, toots."

So I thought, you know, 'cause the chick hasn't introduced us formally yet, I'd do the job myself by way of a slideshow.


If you're like me, you're asking yourself, "What the hell is that?" It's a guy in a sundress hitting on a bleach blonde on a plane. Two hour flight and this joker thinks the blonde's all into him, and I gotta hear about it for the whole damn time from his pals two rows back. Then I got to listen to his buddy on the way to the rental car building. "They were SO into it, dude. Dude! They might meet us at this bar later tonight. So f'ing hot!" Couple of things here. Firstly, "f'ing". Either commit to it or not, but don't replace "f$%k" with "f'". Especially if you're speaking, because it makes you sound like a pussy.

I have to break in here and say that I do censor this blog, for reasons even I can't explain. I just do it. Even I don't allow an uncensored "f$%k". Sorry.

So every time I say "f$%k", you replace two of the letters with other characters?

Yes. Didn't you notice me doing that? If it makes you feel any better, I don't ever say "f'ing" anything. I speak the whole word. I just don't spell it completely.

Chick, that makes no f$%king sense. You broads and your (deleted) delicate (censored) sensibilities.

Belligero, I really don't think this is the place...

(deleted remaining diatribe by clown regarding openings in the human body and flying objects that might fit into or fly out of them.)

Alright, so back to what I was saying. This gentleman was trying to impress the lady while quaffing a cold beverage and I observed quite bemusedly that even I -- a small, poly-filled clown -- even I would touch the silky, perfumed decolletage of a fair maid before this young chap came within twenty yards of a willing recipient. He was, after all, wearing garden party attire on an aeroplane...

Belligero! Goddammit, would you just get the fuck ON WITH IT?

Yeah, baby. That's what I'm talkin' about. See? All you needed to loosen you up was a little slap on the (censored).


So we get to the hotel, and turns out the guy's boss sent us a bottle of wine. That's classy.


The chick and the guy thought I might be lonely for home, so they took me to the Gila River Indian Casino. No dice. By which I mean that there were dice there, no disrespect, but it just wasn't the same.


The kids pissed off the car navigation system. After their third drive around the rez, she stopped talking to them. "Do we turn here? We're going to die out in the middle of the f$%king DESERT if you don't talk to us!" "Keep to the left..." "There IS NO LEFT!" "...followed in 1.5 miles by a Keep to the Left..." I liked her. She was saucy. I called her Mags, on account of her name being Magellan and all.


We made it to the racetrack at about 5:00, which meant that it was 116 degrees outside. I don't know how the little chick didn't spontaneously combust, but she hung in there.


Art shot. They should make a poster of it. I saw the little chick take this picture, and she was staring straight into the sun the whole time she was doing it. Crazy broad.


What'd I tell you? I copped a feel while ol' Seth/Beth was still trying to accessorize his ensemble. Nice girls, Trina and Starla. What? Those might be their names. You don't know.


We have a good time, me and the kids.


"You pick up any tickets you see on the ground. They have to look like this one. You pick them up and give them to Grandma. I'll give you a dollar for each one."

"Why, Grandma?"

"Because I take them to the Indian casino and they give me five dollars in Bingo money for each of them, so I make money and you make money."

It does a clown's heart good to hear a beloved grandparent turn her adorable young boys into scavenging urchins.


I gotta watch my language, but this guy's allowed to roam free? We didn't get a picture of his friend, Mr. "I May Not Be Mr. Right, but I'll F%$k You 'Til He Gets Here" T-shirt. Man, I hope those poor little bastards picking up the ticket stubs aren't old enough to read.


After a huge build-up and three hours sitting on the metal bench seats, the robot dinosaur came out and set some cars on fire. The guy and the little chick were too hot, grimy and worn out to get too excited about it. Anyway, she can check it off her list of life goals.

Oh, and you read about how the little chick has a black toenail and burnt eyelashes, but she was still gonna be good for that wedding coming up? Not all disfigured and whatnot? Yeah. Check this out.


Strangely hemorrhagic flea bites from the lawn at the Phoenix Biltmore. That little chick, she can't catch a break with two hands and a net.

Anyway, nice talking to you good folks. Stick around. I got lots more stories.

Belligero