Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Hello everyone. It has been a substantial time since I was able to write all of you and let you know about me and my damn life. A lot of you have made note of this by saying things like “Van, where are the blogs” or “Van, where are those wacky wrings that purify my soul, that make into a whole human being.” Well, to some of you I say fuck off into a tornado. To the rest of you I say that I can only write when truly inspired, and that is what moves me today, inspiration.

First off, it is well known by the majority of the population that I am great at everything. I box great, I have a lovely singing voice, and I am the world champion of LOVEMAKING. That’s right ladies, you heard me. The Sickle hasn’t gone anywhere, its still here, feeding all your fantasies, making you into a slave to it, working you the fuck over. Sickle Champ. But one thing that I am truly great at, that I get no credit for, is the art of the dance. It is true, I am a great dancer. I can move in ways that are foreign to most people, I can use this dance, this hidden art I am gifted in, to lure different women into giving up their sweet honeydew vaginas. I don’t just do set dances, I don’t just Lean or Rock, I improvise, I get the Sickle involved, I motivate through dance, I achieve.

I have recently gained access to the L.A. club scene. The patrons of these different clubs are mesmerized by my dance. I walk into the joint and people say “Who is he, what is he doing?” and then I say “I’m cooking up this dance floor with extra Sickle sauce, why don’t you taste some flavor bitch”. They witness me moving in ways that are both alien to them and all too familiar. I move. I glide. I do things that make the ladies want me and the fellas want to be me. Smooth.

Being that this is L.A., celebrities have taken notice too. Recently I was cutting a fearsome rug at a hip Hollywood joint when the 5’9 r&b crooner known as Usher saw me and attempted to engage me in dance warfare. Silly bitch. There he was, sliding all over the place looking like a fucking clown. He was doing Homo-Erotic movements reminiscent of a figure skater or a gymnast. Needless to say, after a couple hands-free back somersaults I was pretty pissed off. I looked at the DJ and he nodded, he knew what it was time for, It was time for the smoothed out dance anthem of the world, Micheal Jackson’s “Rock with You.” The song came on and I could feel half the women in the room orgasm. I began to feel the beat and rock the boogie. I moved, not like a gymnast but like a cheetah, a slick cat of passion and betrayal. A gorgeous killer. I won the crowd over with my warmth and skill. Basically, I danced circles around the nigga. Usher was defeated and he knew it. He had it bad and he had to confess that I served him my way. The McKinley High way.

After my triumph over Mr. Raymond the midget I noticed several young felines grabbing an eyeful of Sickle. It turns out that in my dispatching of the dreadful dwarf I had unknowingly become their LUST object. One in particular danced her way over to me and onto my waiting crotch area, the Sickle den. She began moving only slightly offbeat, which was a surprise because she was Caucasian. This sexy young vanilla skinned tart turned her supple and ample ass to me and commenced to give me a lesson in the erotic movements of the Caucasoid peoples. As we danced to the sounds of Sean Paul I began to feel the sickle awaken. She must have felt it too because she leaned back to me and whispered in my ear “You like that don’t you, i can tell you like how I feel”.

Side bar-
I have a question for all you ladies that go out to clubs and parties and dance lustfully on us guys. How do you react to the countless boners that have graced your bottoms since the 8th grade? I only ask because I’m the type of guy that will stand at attention 99.7 percent of the time that a female backs up into my Sickle kill zone and I’m wondering if I should be embarrassed or not. I don’t want to offend any nubile young minx while dancing with me but at the same time the Sickle has a voice and that voice will be heard, esp. if a chicks ass is calling. Am I a pervert? Is it wrong to get aroused on the dance floor, is it sick.? How do you ladies react to it? Does it make you want sessions, hot sessions of LOVEMAKING? Tell me. I want to hear opinions from the ladies on this. ANSWER ME.

Anyway, this lustful bunnies’ comment got me wondering. Does she want a Sickle meeting? Does she need it? Is she using the dance as a tool of desire? Is she using her underwearless rear end as a key to unlock a chest of hidden Sickle treasures? Does she want to kneel at the throne of Sickle? Is she looking to do her part to bridge the racial divide? Does she want unity? Or better yet, does she want to see blacks and whites cumming together? I know I do. I think we all do (Jungle Fever). Alas, none of this was the case. Her sexual advances turned out be less influenced by the Sickle and more by the Grey Goose and Extacy that was messaging her soul. This became evident when she threw up on my shoes and then tried to kiss me. Lustful tart. She didn’t get it. Only sober vaginas can fully absorb the Sickle. Only clear headed pumas can be made dizzy by the lifegiving forces that radiate from its core. Only they can sing its praises and water its seeds. Sharing.

Governor of the Great State of Sickle,

Van Lathan,