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Bung, bung, bung, bung, bung
Bung, bung, bung, bung, bung
Bung, bung, bung, bung, bung
Bung, bung, bung, bung, bung
Bung, bung, bung, bung, bung

Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream
(Bung, bung, bung, bung)

Make him the cutest that I've ever seen
(Bung, bung, bung, bung)

Give him two lips like roses and clover
(Bung, bung, bung, bung)

Then tell him that his lonesome nights are over

Sandman, I'm so alone
Don't have nobody to call my own
Please turn on your magic beam
Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream
Bung, bung, bung, bung

Whirrr whap whap tic tic tic screeeeech!


Sandman Slim…….. ain’t that kind of Sandman.

He has just recently returned from HELL, after kicking Lucifer’s ass around, so much in fact that Lucifer changed his name to Samuel and now resides in Heaven. That was an ass kicking long overdue. Sandman has returned to Earth to take up running his video store. Although Kasabian the Headless insists that Sandman may own the store, Kasabian runs it.

Did you catch that headless part?

Yeah, well Sandman and Kasabian had a disagreement...well... a little more than a disagreement. Kasabian shot Sandman, and Sandman cut his head off. There was some Hoodoo involved, and now the living head makes his way around on a skateboard with little feet.

This might be a good time to mention that you really need to read the books in order. Anything that sounds hinky or too out of this world will make perfect sense after a couple of margaritas and maybe one of those “funny” cigarettes I’ve been hearing about.

Anyway, Sandman is starting to get the yawns. ”It’s so quiet and peaceful out here I’m getting bored with breathing. Maybe we’ll get lucky and the world will go to Hell again. Fingers crossed.”

He missed chopping up demons like Margaret Thatcher missed bending House of Lord’s ministers over her desk for a good spanking.

Sandman and I share a love of pop culture references.

”The Beat Hotel…. I’t like a cross between a seventies swingers no-tell motel and the kind of hipster hot spot where rock stars stay when they don’t want to be seen bringing home good smack or bad strippers. The rooms are comfortable in a Zen halfway-house kind of way. But the kitchens are decorated in bright primary-colored vinyl like a Playboy-chic burger joint. The place looks like where David Lynch would meet Beaver Cleaver’s mom for secret afternoons of bondage and milk shakes. I love it.”

This description reminds me of the motels that the Winchester Boys from Supernatural always seem to find themselves holed up in.

Sandman and I also share a dislike of self-indulgent automobiles. ”I hate those luxury golf cars. Gaudy status symbols with as much personality as an Elmer’s-Glue-on-white-bread sandwich.” Now he is speaking about a Lexus, but the one that I loath is the love affair that shallow, corporate zombies have with their BMWs. Could that brand of car be any more humdrum to look at? They are the beige of the car world in my opinion. They might as well have just bought the most plain jane Ford they can find and pay half. I had an ex-friend who had her BMW hit in a parking garage, and she kept going on and on about how upset she was, and I kept thinking maybe that car has some character now.

Sandman gets shot; no worries, he is some kind of half Nephilim, a race that doesn’t exist anymore except in the DNA replicating in his own internal world. It is tough on nice jackets though. ”I pick up the coat. Finger the bullet hole. It’s not bad enough to throw the coat away. Besides, I heard that blood is the new black.”

He finds out that the soul of his recently deceased girlfriend has been captured from Heaven and spirited away to HELL. He’d be upset about all this except for the fact that he is almost out of Maledictions (hell’s best brand of cigarettes), and he has been getting itchy feet over L.A. being way too tame.

Hell hasn’t been the same HELL ever since Lucifer left. It was time for Sandman to go down, save the girl, and make a few attitude adjustments.

”Go to hell see if you like it
Then come home with me
Tomorrow night may be too late
The world’s a mess it’s in my kiss”
--The X

Nothing but irreverent, laugh out loud fun. Lucky for me Richard Kadrey has already written several more. This is the perfect book series to read when I need to take a long stroll away from the regular world. Sandman Slim ain’t no angel, and for a little while I don’t have to be either.

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