Killer Joe Blow

So, I'm just out like a roving fool
Barefootin' it down the boulevard.
Then holy terror at the cross walk,
A high tech extreme vehicle electric
Zips past me screeching to a halt
Shredding the rubber-esc tires as
Now one with the pavement.
Hot damn!  It's Killer Joe Blow.
Lord, 'hadn't seen that wild son
Of a fishmonger in beaucoup ages.
I thought the creature was surely 
Locked up in prison or an asylum,
Maybe both.  Dig, man.  Nutzville
Joe, on the spot, presented me 
With the offered opportunity to
Roll on down in his classy buggy
While choking down a tundra-cold
Brewski or two.  Bounce back, bro.
My actual self had to head to the
House.  The fridge was babysittin'
My Swanson TV dinner.  Had been
For a group.  Not that important,
Just avoiding hangin' with this
Bonafide fruitcake named Joe.