THE SALSA DIARIES #1

I Am The Ghost of Tim Herring’s Christmas Past

And other horror stories that scare my hamster

Late afternoon the oiled pig ran squealing past me on the couch. The lube left streak stains all over Janet from accounts. She wasn’t finger-licking good or even golden fried. She smelt like a day-old taco and resembled Great Martha’s dirty granny underpants.

“This is shit writing” spoke the ghost of TimHerring, the one true god of the internet age and recently departed beloved pet hamster. “Have you not read anything I’ve been posting?” he queried, “I’m very popular…bigger than Shannon Ashley…and Jesus.” Just what I needed, a literate ghost hamster haunting my story.

Yeah, fuck off TimHerring. Hamster with one name. If only you were a Brazilian soccer player, then we could all call you Timmo…instead, you’re Tim fucking Herring, the hamster of many words written by ghostwriters.

Sozzled, I half wondered where that pig was heading. Janet was now flattened on the floor attempting to resurrect the doom-deflated man-child, Deepak. His cheese grated knob was a flaccid reminder of how bad this evening improv session had gone. Writers retreat my arse.

If only we had kept TimHerring alive a little longer. He would never allow a headline to clickbait its way into Janet’s pants. She was squirmish and in love. She had read every one of Tim’s self-help entrepreneur posts and was ten minutes away from launching into the stratosphere. Unfortunately for her, TimHerring had to die. The stuffed entrance was too tight a squeeze.

Probably explains why she chose pig. Off at the Deepak end. I heard he writes too but never could swallow porkers. The swine was a glutton for punishment. That was Part Two of my comedy routine involving as many pig gags as I could muster. The encore had Derrick, the Jacobian Pig, run head-on into a swine from the crowd. Sausages dangling from its snout. It boar no resemblance to comedy but was guaranteed to make everyone gag.

Deepak busied fingering his nostril. TimHerring had snuffed it and Janet was sobbing in the corner.

“It’s still not reading right,” said TimHerring the former hamster.

“Fuck off Timmo…I’m coming to haunt your Christmas.”

TimHerring laughed. This hamster was making over $10,000 a month on Medium writing about Keanu’s nipples and his joy from twerking the left one. You can see why this little monstrosity had to die.

The joke was on me. TimHerring’s haunting everyone’s Christmas.

“Will this ruin my chances of success on this platform Timmo?” I asked my flattened hamster ghost.

“Try it buddy, I’ve already blocked you on two platforms…want to try for a third?”

Fucking Aussie hamsters.