I never visit New Orleans without incident. There is always something weird that happens to me and this trip was no exception. I walked out of an occult shoppe in the French Quarter where I purchased a brand new set of Haitian voodoo dolls. With the weekend coming up, I hate to be without them.

I was standing on the sidewalk for a moment deciding where to go next when a Rolls Royce limousine pulled up next to me. The back window cracked open – thickened hashish smoke rolled gently outward, permeated with the fragrant vapors of perfume and whiskey. I heard a bit of girlish giggling inside, a familiar voice squealed, “Come here dude.”

I thought I was about to be robbed or kidnapped, but stood there bravely with wallet tightly gripped in my steely vice. The window came down revealing a shocking spectacle – Britney Spears smoking hash in an elaborately decorated Turkish pipe – the words Oops I Smoked it Again engraved in exotic script along it’s contours.

voodoo dolls

voodoo dolls

I said, “Hi Britney!”

“How much?” she replied.

I was confused, unsure what she meant and replied, “How much? How much for what?”

She lifted her sunglasses glaring at me like I was playing dumb, “Don’t even play with me right now, I ain’t in no mood for that. How much for you sugar?” I shot her a look of bewildering perplexity – she continued, “How much for you to crawl in here and give me and my friend some afternoon delight!”

I leaned over to see her friend; it was a Judge Judy in a black bra and panties – I almost barfed. Judge Judy rapped her mallet on the head rest and in a most authoritative tone commanded, “Order in the court…you answer Ms. Spears sir. How much do you charge…hehehahaha!”

They took a few shots of liquor and busted into hysterical laughter. Britney said, “What’s your name honey?”

“Uh…well er um…Bobby, my name is Bobby.”

Britney smiled in an extremely erotic fashion, “Do you find me attractive Bobby?”

“Yes Britney, I guess…but you are looking a bit tattered.”

“It’s been a long day…how much?” she squawked.

I remembered a prostitute negotiation I saw on the TV show “Cops” and said, “Britney, for you…a thousand dollars. For Judge Judy, 100 million dollars in unmarked twenties – I want the money upfront. This is a high end district. This is grade AAA American male,” I then gave them a runway model turnaround and put my hand on my hip.

Judge Judy started crying, “Wah…He thinks I’m ugly. Nobody wants me.”

Britney wrapped her arms around her and said, “Poor Judy, I’ll get you laid. You deserve it.”

I said, “It’s not that you’re ugly your honor, you’re just such a mean sour pus on your show. You are ugly inside and quite frankly, it gives me chills. Another thing…that black widow tattoo on your breast is very unattractive. Brit, if you get rid of the Judge, I will get in.”

Britney twirled her tongue wildly with spectacular dexterousness and said, “Too bad for you loser, you don’t know what you just missed out on,” she rolled up the window and the limousine drove off. Sorry, I’m just not attracted to judge Judy. I immediately felt degraded. I drove home and took five hot showers trying to wash the filthy thoughts from my soul. I felt so disgusting.

When you’re bored or burned out from blogging and don’t have any good ideas for a post, make one up!

* This story is pure fiction by Bobby Revell
* I do not really practice voodoo
* If Britney or Judge Judy sue me, I have no money to give them and will move to another country