Blue Doodles

I have a guy living in a piece of glass on my wall. I never see him unless I go over there and look in. He's always there, looking back at me, but never says anything. This has been going on for years. He's growing older now and I'm starting to get spooked.

I have two left feet, except that one of them actually isn't, and I'm not going to tell which one.

Thursday came and went. No one noticed. Happens every week. Not like the old days. Mom would be pissed.

I can never seem to remember what it is I need to remember but have forgotten, regardless. Which is why I usually give up and just resume chasing my tail.

Me and Bug went down by the Wally Mart to eyeball some a tha babes again, like we usully do every week or two. Not as much fun as it used to be, what with the Corroded Virus face masks and all, and most women carrying pointy sticks these days to warn us off. Plus, some a them don't seem as pretty as they used to. Maybe I'm gettin too picky, I don't know. But somethins up for sure.

Whenever I yawn, the cat hisses at me, like its got too much air inside. Me, I just fart, usually right before I yawn. I don't see the connection.

 

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Me? Still wondering what the sky is for.

Hop To It

A diamond is for Eva.

Beauth is troot, and troot, beauthy.

Give a man a fish and he has a pet.

A turd in the hand is worse than poo in the bush.

A chain is only as strong as its weasel link.

It's only a mop in the bucket.

Just read the King James' Illustrated Version of "Kiss and Tell". My nips are now squealed.

Give the Devil his goo.

 

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Me? Still wondering what to say.

Gudrun Tunnel News

Gudrun Tunnel News for the intrepid, right here, right now.

Item One: Yes! I am a vert! Of some kind!

Prevert?

Postvert?

Paravert?

Who can say?

Ambivert? Could be.

Item Two: Paraversions and parsley seeds — can't get enough of either. Very sure of that.

Item Three: Top 25 procedures performed at ambulatory surgery centers? How about one of those? No, they do not include seed removal, so just forget about it, but Pre-Christian Discounts? Maybe? If you're lucky. Need one? (Available last week only, so don't be late now, hear? Never too early to ask or too late to miss out.)

Item Four: Latest Award Ceremonies — American Arbitration Association v. Tri-Institutional Pain Registry. A surefire smackdown event. Survivors get free cookies for life, or through the end of next week, whichever comes first. Taxes and medical expenses pre-paid by a beneficial benefactor. Most limits apply.

Item Five: Monkey noodles. Handmade in our interesting facility just outside the city limits. No other limits need apply. Mostly clean, pretty much edible if you like that sort of thing. Flies included at no extra charge. Call now. Right away in fact, if you know what's good for you. (Really, if you are fussy like that we can probably come up with something that'll work if you don't inspect it too closely.)

 

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Me? Still wondering about that thing.

As Far As God Goes

As far as God goes, what's right, wrong, or which end might be up, I don't know a whole lot. We're not so close these days as we used to. You know — back when we played checkers in the park every afternoon and all, and the rest of the world was still slime.

Did you know that God is only four feet tall and used to be named Larry?

God and me was talking about you. None of it good neither.

God came by yesterday, out of sorts again. Threw a few lightning bolts around the yard, had a beer, and went away still grumpy. But went away — that's the important part. I'm not sure that I need to keep this up.

God said not to do that, but I did. What the fuck — I'm usually right, and God already has a big enough ego. Plus, God is ugly as a turd on a birthday cake.

Got a call from God yesterday. Depressed. Finally realized after all this long time that Satan is also immortal. And that neither one of them exists.

 

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Brought to you this week only by Monica Aswaggen.

To The Pointlessness

Eyes on the ground, feet in your ears.

First the sun came up, then clouds chased me around for what seemed like hours, growling. Then I had lunch. Just another average day.

Read that "Kama Sutra" book, but no tailors around here make clothes like that.

Fish do not have feathers. Ever wonder why?

There's an odd sound underneath me. May be coming from my poopy hole. There are days when it gets lonely and needs attention.

Fuzz — got way too much around the house, and the bank won't let me keep it in my savings account. Something's wrong here — very wrong.

 

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Me? Saw another TRex in the back garden today, eating my neighbor. (Must be Wednesday.)

Convince Me Once

When face huggers hit the toad — what then?

Quantity time for sale. Big lots. Buy it by the decade. Get yours now. Quality not guaranteed while sale lasts.

The hut zone caps afternoon entertainment with nibbles from the Koran and moistened grain finger soaks. Admission: Confession of one or more recent sins.

First, an undertaker swaps identities with a straight-talking rock band, and only too late discoverers that there is no such thing, leaving him, her, or it overtaken by events. What a deal, eh?

Close, but no hand grenade — we're automated here.

Convince me once (just once), that the vague cassette object in your pants pocket has a dance ratio of greater than one. (In case that means anything.)

Call me Trud. I deserve it. Meanwhile, I'm working on a name for my first-born. Something like "Advance To The Kitchen Schmidkunz". Or maybe "Death In The Dungeons Jones"? How about "Remember The Depths Abercrombie"? Would "Accepting The Darkness McTavish" inspire confidence in middle school students? Would their parents ever develop trust in "Sounds Of The Country Swenson"? And I know that "Vanish In The Abyss Landsraad" would be good for a certain holiday, but how then about "Lurking In The Elements Deloitte" do? Hmmm?

 

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Me? Still cooking without gas. (Which the neigbors constantly appreciate.)

Howl At The Mood

Barfnozzle: Get yours today. Never leave home without it.

You can't judge a crow by its bar code.

Stand along the rail and try forming at the mouth. Cookies at eleven.

Cut out the mermaid — you can get along without one these days.

Like fodder like some. (Pumpkins don't need to worry about this.)

Next up: Bathing around in the bushes. Can be amusing if you have nothing else to do these days.

It's staining cats and dogs, a possible new business oppty.

Quick on the towel, me. Handy if there are more people than towels. Also polite to you.

High and tidy, going for baroque next week sometime. Wink as I go by.

Often needle-drunk but puncture-proof, giant lyrical list generator (gratis), divergent, satisfying, and quiet. I have other talents too frequent to brag about. Hire me now.

I'm a man of few words, and also a woman, previously a snake.

No ifsands, scuttles, or buts. (Except for Ed, my Mom.)

What goes up must become a towel. Sometimes though, it's a downer. (Didn't we already mention towels?)

 

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Me? Planning to sue some goo. (Stay tuned once.)