Wednesday, November 11

In Floatilla Lore, This Explains So Much...

1977: Bootleg Snacks: Swallowed Deep Into The Love: Track #: Lost




Toys:

We'll fade it in at this point, Jack.

Everybody lean in real close and listen up real good. It's Auntie Toys, searing sonnets and psalms in your ear.

Once upon a time, far away, years and years ago, screaming out my name as I went down, a young woman entered college on Labor Day evening of her nineteenth year... As pure and true as the driven snow.


Floatilla Men:

(Hey, what the hell!)


Toys:

She had never been kissed, she had never been fondled, she'd... god knows she'd never been wasted. She was a doe-eyed, rainbow-deprived virgin. Nineteen years old and still half-drunken with youth... In this century!

One Fourth of July she was out drinking on a fake ID in one of those tweak and freak disco dance joints...


Floatilla Women:

(Leather Bitch!)


Toys:

The kind of girl you want to know
From her head down to her toenails, yeah...


Super Freak, my ass; Blow daddy!



Floatilla Men:

(Break out the good shit!)


Toys:

Anyway, she was out drinking on a fake I.D. in one of those tweak and freak disco dance joints, underneath a Southeastern coastal city. When under the confusion of the flickering, upright line-of-sight disco ball and storming PA...


Floatilla Women:

(We’re gonna burn this mutha down!)


Toys:

Not to mention... not to mention, all the microdot and schnapps she ate and drank that night...


Floatilla Men:

(Pour yourself another round!)


Toys:

She got separated from her alabaster friends. And she was... stricken with fear.

When suddenly there appeared like a dark angel at her side, a thirty-seven year old sweet-talking suave smooth disco gigolo named Dr. Love.


Floatilla Women:

(He used to be mine!)


Toys:

Now, Love was a striking man, in fact, he struck her several times later on that very same evening, under solemnly obligated patriotic prescription circumstances.

There's some people engaged in flagellation back there.


Floatilla Men:

(Who the hell asked you?)


Toys:

Well, what would any red blooded American nineteen year old virgin female do when confronted with a thirty-seven year old domination-wedding-chapel-leather-bar disco gigolo named Dr. Love?

She went home with him!


Floatilla Women:

(Will you remember me?)


Toys:

It's not even midnight, and in an age old time honored right of passage, Dr. Love made a woman out of her.


Floatilla Men:

(Give it up!)


Toys:

It took three whole days and two whole nights, but he did it, he made a light-socket, bottle rocket woman out of her.

About halfway through the second day, they stopped, and he tried to make a man out of her, but she didn't like that part, so they swap playthings.


Floatilla Women:

(That ought to do you for now!)


Toys:

Don't look at me like you don't know how that could be..! The measure passed with ease.


Floatilla Men:

(Hypocrisy Gestapo!)


Toys:

And don't tell me you haven't thought about it. You haven't?

Is this your first summer in town? Let me show you around.



Floatilla Women:

(WWD Love do!)


Toys:

From there, the house call relationship went, um, downhill, if that's possible. It got really sick. It was one of those twisted night after night after night, all day long, all night long, kinda corkscrewed down the back of the night on two wheels kinda things.

I hear some twisted men out there that like that.


Floatilla Men:

(I’m right here!)


Toys:

There's hope! And that's the start of a sad mysterious story: a story of love... love, love, true performance artist love and full witch doctor regalia.


Floatilla Women:

(The best things in life are we!)



Toys:

Amen!





All Floatilla:

(Sasha!)