This is a story about Cornmoko, the Hot Clam from Fort Lee, New Jersey, boys and girls. But don’t tell your parents about it, or there could be trouble. And always write the name “Fort Lee” in full; don’t abbreviate it “Ft. Lee.” It’s disrespectful. The same goes for “New Jersey.”
Cornmoko, the Hot Clam from Fort Lee, New Jersey, was a mollusc who was into rubber. But he was a person because all species are equal. Therefore, his interest in latex rubber and bondage was automatically validated.
Cornmoko had this black girlfriend from Hoboken named Lola, and she was a bitch. Sorry, but that’s what she was. Let’s tell the truth about other people, okay? So Cornmoko had to tie her up and whip her because she was such a mouthy black bitch. She worked as a cashier at the Delite Supermarket, at 420 Washington St., in Hoboken, and she was such a goddamned motormouth that a white customer blew a head valve and screamed at her, “Will you shut up, you nigger!” Then there was a big scene because a white person just called a black person a nigger, which is not allowed, boys and girls, okay? The owner, who was white, was not sure who was at fault. If a white customer who shopped there for ten years with no problems suddenly went ballistic, there had to be a reason. And the owner really didn’t like Lola because he knew she was a motormouth, but he didn’t want to do anything politically incorrect. Now, by coincidence, he happened to know Lola’s boyfriend, Cornmoko. They went back a long way together, and the owner looked up to him as a great guy. So the owner told Cornmoko, “Hey that girlfriend of yours, Lola, sure is a big mouth. I don’t want to fire her, but I’m just telling you she’s burning some of my customers’ asses.”
“You did the right thing to call me,” said Cornmoko, who was all too familiar with Lola’s big mouth. “I’ll straighten her out.”
That night after they had drinks at a bar, Cornmoko took Lola back to his place and gave her a few slaps, pushed her on the sofa, and tied her up. “You need to learn some manners, bitch!”
“Whut-choo-mean, you fried clam?” said Lola. “Fried clam” was her favorite put-down.
“I’m gonna teach you about manners in the workplace, that’s what I mean!” So he pulled down her pants and whipped her black ass, and then he gave her a good butt-fucking.
So that was one adventure of Cornmoko. There were some others that I don’t have time to tell you about. Like, for instance, he caught a drug addict stealing a jar of pickles from a bargain store. And he returned a man’s wallet after the man dropped it on the subway. And another time he went into the Hudson River and gave suicide counseling to a contaminated mackerel that didn’t want to live any more.
Cornmoko is a well-known Hero Clam in New Jersey (some parts), and he is a role model for you. You should be just like him — firm but fair. And you should get a $5 bill out of mommy’s purse and send it to me. (Anything larger than $5, and she’ll probably notice, so just a 5 is okay.) Just mail it to Crad Kilodney, P.O. Box 72577, Greenwin Square RPO, Toronto, Ont., M4W 3S9, Canada. Don’t tell anyone.
Howard Johnson’s makes the best fried clams in the world, but I can’t get them here in Canada. These people are so stupid. They never even heard of Cornmoko. He’s a Wonder Clam. My hero. And if I bash a certain mouthy black bitch supermarket cashier in the head with a hammer, you’ll understand why, right?
Copyright@ 2008 by Crad Kilodney, Toronto, Canada. E-mail: firstname.lastname@example.org