Day Dream Believer

“Sooty and Sweep are just capitalist puppets, claims Marxist” said the radio.
“It’s time for me to discharge myself” said Sidney.
He was gazing at a dog-eared photograph of a blond, bare breasted lady in stockings and suspenders, who was draped over a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, drinking frothy lager from a bulbous bottle. In the background was a long-haired biker in studded leather jacket, unflattering thong and jackboots, with a three inch spike through his nose. A waterfall of artificial sweat ran freely over the lady’s tanned shoulders, down her back, and through the culvert of her perfectly formed derriere. Nudity, as always, left plenty to the imagination.
“I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing” I said.
“Oh, I’m not Steven” he said quietly. “She’s my muse.”

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