AN EXQUISITE CORPSE OF SORTS

click on chapter 2 at the bottom to read on

Meanwhile, somewhere in Amsterdam a lonely woman cries in the night. She is unloveable. She had composed a number of short piano pieces, whose eccentric titles (such as "Ogives," "Trois Gymnopedies," "Trois Gnossiennes") and unfashionable and yet convincing simplicity of melody were matched by an individual sense of harmony. Her first volume of poetry was published in 1909, and her involvement as a librettist for the Ballets Russes and its impresario Serge Diaghilev began the same year. She first gained recognition as a member of Les Six, a group of young Danish composers who rebelled against romanticism. Their music was condemned universally, and it caused many suicides that year among grocery clerks. They had a special way of communicating with people who were in constant contact with fresh vegetables. There would have been more deaths if it weren't for the birds. The gelatinous cube of fahrvergnügen glistened in the sun. The birds were drawn to shimmering beauty and for a brief moment no one died anywhere in the word.

But as a hundred and eight medical specialists will tell you time and again, this absolutely will not do! I locked myself out of my apartment. Someone was muttering about being the poison. The horror of loneliness and playing the fool struck far too deep in the fanfolds of my heart, and the screaming did not cease. I spread your palms and licked the flaps of your pockets. I was not to be denied, for I had instant conductors all over my body.

I ran down the middle of the street with grocery bags on my feet.
"In the Name of James Franciscus," I screamed, "you've been
babysitting yourself again!"

As she shrank she cried out:
From this day on she would forever be afraid of the dogs. But the dogs would never see her again because they had been blinded by a branding iron in the shape of the Taj Mahal. She smelt hospital smells and the woolen numbness of anesthesia. Through a bright, metallic door she saw a patient on an operating table split down the middle. A doctor with grey plastic forceps was extracting crab parasites from his brain and spine and squeezing green, fishy symbiotes from the separated flesh. His body hummed like a queen bee. I pushed the red button, but everything happened and i locked myself away in fear because I thought red was for stop. I screamed and screamed the nurses name in hatred for teaching me wrong and went back to my potatoes, because they always told me what to do. I sat at the table dressed like a giant steak and watched as the vegetarians greedily ate deer. I only wished I had eaten more for my Mother. Orthogonal? three fearless jellyfish asunder, choking furtively. typical airhead hours wasted faceless people hello shooting bullshit I needed more mindless bantor I went bonkers without (a) single thing. I don't have opinions but immediately repulsed general disenchantment. That impact of broadcast is much quicker textual conversation. But then keywords are very quick. Saying something about each others general philosophy. There are not many who can sit being strangulated and feel refreshed afterwards at least not violated.

Everything seems like a dream. Bring me a light bulb and a coelocanth. One of his glass eyes was severely fogged. He'd not realized how many aphids he'd ate for Walpurgisnicht. His grandmother (God damn her soul) desperately needed a new electric chair; her old one had begun to speak to her in Portugeuse, but with a distinct unidentifiable reverb-sorta-thing going on. He couldn't get the voice out of his misshapen head: ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON ROCKETTE MORTON... Meanwhile, his sister felt a strange burning sensation in her left hand whilst dwindling a thin elephant. She inhaled sharply and inadvertently swallowed the foetus she'd been sucking on since breakfast. It'd lost its flavor three hours before three hours before three hours before. "EMMA!," she heard the one-armed albino dwarf call from his cage. "Why is it that you always put too much salt in my crankcase when you service the rototiller?" The blood vessels in the Dwarf's left eye began to stand out and take the shape of Gordon Bennet's profile from the left, "What is wrong with your aorta?" He continued to rant until he was swallowed by an oversized silverfish. Emma smirked and continued to douse herself in kerosine and concentrate on spontaneous combustion. Won't want the hesitation to become part of the action...

So what we have is this - no direct contact with the bins. The dwarf's prosthetic legs were way too long. "Is that you, Lord? Are you talking to me? Is that you? I believe. You know I do. I swear. I believe. I believe. I believe. Sometimes, belief ain't enough, Lord." Later that evening the Hierophant kept his meeting with the hermit. They discussed the dwarf at length and came to a conclusion. Then, without warning, lights, lights--everywhere! If it wasn't for the Valium that Jen provided last week, the vision might have resembled less of a rainbow.

Awash in the chemical stream, a glow immersed the room. It seemed to shine from her eyes, the ones watching for the last hour. Strangely, the clock moved only three minutes. But this glow, gold and lacking in color simultaneously, reached in, touching a spot never known.

The clock slowed further. Eons in nanoseconds. The frog god reigned supreme. The fish had been supressed, but there were still factions everywhere being joined by fresh vegetables. I tripped on a dictionary and several words fell out. They were all nouns. I heard chanting in the distance and slowly the words began to shuffle towards the horizon like a gaggle of monks. All they needed were robes and candles. "Words!? What's with the words? Where have all the good ones gone? I ask myself this daily, I try my best to follow the teachings......."keep the faith, keep the faith.....Lord ....gotta' keep the faith"......I try.... Words?! What's with the words? Where have all the good ones gone?" These thoughts travel my mind as I wander the path. Remove the glass eye and shine it a bit (first one then the other) It is a lonely path I ride .....on my steele horse, I allow follow my olfactory nerve to lead me ............for it always knows. As she sat in the center of the bottom of the glass cubicle she'd spent the majority of her life inhabiting, Claudia quietly looked up to watch the transparent goldfish appear again and begin to swim cirles through the air. On several separate occasions, she'd tried to telepathically communicate (just like she'd been trained to do w/humans and other rats) with the ghostfish. A reply had yet to be obtained, however; the spectre seemed to be as ignorant of her as it was of the death that had brought it into being. How many hours had she spent staring at the phantom fish? How many hours had she spent in the haunted fishtank? The dwarf sighed. Convinced, he was, that his consciousness had been inverted somehow, prompting him to slide backwards through time. He already knew where he'd go yet had no idea where he'd been. He already knew what'd he'd do yet had no clue what he'd done. His death was as definite in his head (giant silverfish!?!); 'twas his birth that was uncertain (and that uncertainty had naturally begun to spawn a fear that even he could smell). One of my three black cats just vomited on the cushion of the chair that has the dead mink on the back. I'm not making this up, it actually happened. I was all set to enter last night's dream, in which Pete K told me he had just dyed his cat red and purple and pink, which I knew was perfectly ridiculous cause Pete doesn't have a cat, just a pit bull. But anyway. The cat vomit is light brown and chunky, and is nicely framed by the beige cushion on which it sits.

So I returned to the body that had never been my own. So far from home am I. I know not why. I wait eagerly for whores to touch my weeping sores. "Racecar a evord lived," the old, toothless man said in a voice that was no less pleasant than the sound of a cheese grater being dragged repeatedly across a young boy's preteen, acne-free face. Too cocky to be a lesbian, he'd long ago decided to play it straight and narrow. His eyes reminded me of two of the tarnished ball bearings I once saw a small parapalegic cannibal girl remove from a yellow-eyed nun's defunct uterus. When asked why she'd felt compelled to perform such an unusual service, the limbless lass replied, "Gravity." The sister had been as sweetly submissive as a latah in a morgue. The charrred remains still burn brightly behind the missing limbs of the dead. Interesantisima apertura mental, viejo. Mucha huea rara. Territorio fuera de mierda. Caca. Pero lo importante es leebahescribir, no? Asi es la vida, pero nunca tan clara como podria aparecer en estas paginas enfin. Interesantisima apertura mental, viejo. Mucha huea rara. Territorio fuera de mierda. Caca. Pero lo importante es leebahescribir. Stunning empanadas from outerchilean domain. Patriotic babblings straight from General Conteras (R) to your home TOLL FREE. Cada vez que lograba ordeñar algo, no habia leche ov aca. Pero salia como a las nuevepa agarrar la micro. La hora era fija y no me quedaba otraOn with the story now children... enfin.

Three days later, we made it to the hotel. The air in the truck broke three arguements ago, and we were both too tired to carry on at this rate. Hopefully, the restaurant was still open and offering room service. I needed some. Meanwhile, several continents away, Jesus came crawling out of his cave. His stigmata had begun to weep once again; each vermilion droplet plopped upon the earth and prompted a poppy to spontaneously rise and bloom. The saviour proceeded to stretch out his arms, yawn and absently scratch his crotch. He peered down toward the ground and saw his own shadow; once again, it was too short (signifying yet another postponement to his second coming). "Damn," he said just as he began to sprout long floppy ears, buckteeth and a tail that closely resembled a cotton ball.

My freinds and I were parasailing when alien kidnappers from another dimension used a flash gun to teleport us into their maze of death. It had walls thousands of feet high and at the top edge of each wall was a statement of despair and loneliness. Soon they were chasing us with trained hippopotomii and we were walking through walls. I was captured and brainwashed into becoming a lawyer. The torture was only beginning. Later That evening I made my way to a small record store with a pocket full of money. They had a copy of 'Messe Mench' and a copy of '3 Minute Symphony'. Before I would buy the former I insisted on looking at it. I took the record out of the sleeve carefully and inspected it under a table lamp. The vinyl was smooth and grey with large black grooves like levelour blinds. It was perfect, alien vinyl. A frog leg into the ear of the undead destroyers. Little did i know that what i was about to put on the record player was no ordinary sound recording. The vinyl slipped from my greasy hands and fell right on the turntable i had installed next to the amp. Suddenly i realised i had not performed my ghastly mission... the lottery ticket remained in my father´s pocket. Yes sir Robert, a ghoul. A disgusting creature who robs graves and feeds on corpses. "Ah, yes... presently." It was clear as daylight anyway, especially now that the anal orifice turned up. Avidly licking up any kind of material that surfaced, the record suddenly came to mind, and as if all natural order had suddenly been abolished, i flung my body against the amplifier rack, toppling estrepitosamente on the turntable, sending thousands of vinyl fragments flying across the room. I recovered a few days later, the smell of shit and the nauseous sounds of Jackson twirling in a blurry, frenzied neural jam. More than words, you know? bECAUSE yA KNOW THAT aNGIE WALKED ALONE IN HER dESTIRUTEMAINSUNFRY EATENLIKE A DOG in HEAT PETURBLYSINGING AlONG sHOWS moon!! On page 33 of the week's Wall Street Journal he saw what would most likely spell the end of their enterprise. Rebel forces in a remote region of the Northern Territories were taking up arms and other body parts. Quickly tossing them into the workings of his delicate machinery. Macabre sabots.

The alien beings on this Earth are manipulating the control machine. was unquestionably beyond enormous, like something found in the darkest region of a hardware store. This was all beyond the simple little hallways of his chicken-coup-brain. "Tartar sauce, my friend," said Rick smugly, "great gobs of it." and then i looked back , and all i could see was a long drifting shadow. then I turned around and found myself face to face with the owner of that shadow. If only i could remember where and when i had seen this face before. but for now I would have be satisfied with this chance meeting. Blindly flailing, laughing like the green dogs,the little man gripped onto the sewer grate as if the rats had never thought of opening the giant skeletal fish.Never again did the little man reject the candy offered to him by the deaf children,never again did he bite the dusty brick-sausage in the dead of the dark wood without first saying a prayer to the fish spirit. Slowley, slowley, ... slowley ... the drifter began to rock back and forth, dribbling about the moon of none dogs rising upon the backs of all the sharks in the pool of inane sobriety. Unable, uncomfortable, unendurable, and all else in the line of rapid questioning being hurled upon us in this unimaginable heat, we concieved of a vision, a smattering of text - JFJWLK,SMDFKFUFOSKLSKLSIIDL DLFO KSIFGIOGJKKJDL,,G SDLOG SM,GPOSPG KG SGOG SOJKGF SOPG SKG SODSOG G SOD GOS GOSG SOD GPWSKETRMWAEOFK WELK SWOEGI ASE;W EJFG SOG SGLGOPSIG - the remaining six digits were dancing in our eyes, our moon-struck eyes with which we veiwed the coming apocolypse, the laughter of Morpheus in a soupy return guild, the mechanical clatterings of mud splattered honey suck, the unendurable peckings of the would be what is where never beast. When I awoke, there was a strange smell, I didn't know anyone, I was wearing no cloths but I was aware of a sense of smallness in scope and in relation to what we had become that night. We were none other then the beast itself, that sillty hobby horse, the unfolded sandwich, the set belief in our true desires which was rising from the pit of our clattering fiery mandibles. Later... the same evening ... A ship without a tuna ... a name without a number ... The dog was set for going to the pound in the mind of the dying mother where she would toast the flying fish over the roaring fire of rioting tommy burgers churning the urban stomach, listless & unemployed The Fish haunted me still, as their arms ran frequently throughout my nightmares. The jelly had gone sour, and the sparkling duck was sadly no more. And the book was nowhere to be seen. (But the Cacti and the Lima Beans kept me company, and a young clerk quickly became my bedpan).

So I went into the library carrying my shotgun in one hand and dragging a child along by the foot with the other. She was reading a monograph on insect larvae and asked me if I would buy her a bowl of diseased maggots. I smiled and began to cry. The gas was never missed. Hot sweaty bisquick love slowly caked itself around my spine like the bells of nada chiming their presence. I fell to the floor in a state of shock with fish hooks in my mouth and I screamed for another ipecac bananna cat litta smoothie, but they was no more. The prior night of smoothie binging paid off though, as I was able to hurl the bisquick love out into the spicey night. Hot sweaty bisquick love slowly caked itself around my spine like the bells of nada chiming their presence. I fell to the floor in a state of shock with fish hooks in my mouth and I screamed for another ipecac bananna cat litta smoothie, but they was no more. The prior night of smoothie binging paid off though, as I was able to hurl the bisquick love out into the spicey night. Dying in scarlet whispers, "the illusion of reality is autonomy".

What did this mean? i do not know, but the reddish orange orbs were gaining, and I was not about to relinquish my soul for their sucking pleasures. And thus, another mystery is lost. I noticed that my trousers were beginning to "become un-comfortably tight" at this point, so as easily as changing stained boxer shorts I switched to the feminine gender and the third person perspective (which had gotten her through so much of her troubled youth) until the drug wore off. Now she was even beginning to forget when or even if the drug had even been administered. Or had the kindly Nurse Benway perhaps given her an accidental overdose? Hopefully, all these doubts would be resolved when she came down or woke up or at least scored some more. flowers in the desert of Iceland, destroyed by eruptions of volcanoes, lack of water, chilling winds. But nevertehless they are still in full bloom. Hypnotised in the light of the newmoon, riding along the midway, smelling the swoon, thinking about rhymes and music, picture your hometown drowned, beneath the sea like atlantis the seaweed and the fish visiting your favorite drinking establihments stopping at your familiar barstool, hitting on the unaccompanied female looking to spawn at dawn in the patrol cars the sturgeons sharpen their scallops, while the coral prepare for their slow constructions centuries building upon building awash in salt laden life The shadows of the burning muck thats deep inbedded in the shoes of the holy agustine shines upon the yellow waters of wisla. The tartan devils are dancing around their fiats and sending radio active projectile vomits into the shallow waters where the minister of all celestial affairs is counting his contract The shadows of the burning muck thats deep inbedded in the shoes of the holy agustine shines upon the yellow waters of wisla. The tartan devils are dancing around their fiats and sending radio active projectile vomits into the shallow waters where the minister of all celestial affairs is counting his contracts. A tiny little boy runs across the water and asks the minister why why his eyes are watering at the sight of these contracts? "Weeell son the day has come! I have run out of souls! Now I have to start a different advertising campaign with a lower rate of foetal fireworks. We gotta get more of those liquid amoebas with a strong sense of rythm and eyes that can pulverize the whole southern regions of the milky way just the same way Domingo can make your brain bleed when he sings of spain and its carnal pleasures.

Submit! Submit!

SUBMIT!

Artfully resting on a windswept rock, sundrops tantalizing her flaccid eyelids, she was unaware of the action painting about to emerge as the vultures swooped down, leaving red splatter-stains on the vicious glinting carapace. Three centuries and 23 years ago her mind was an ocean. Her eyes were its gaze; the unfettered horizon unblemished by ships. Once a millenium five seagulls would meet to eclipse the sun... Suddenly she was reminded of the Russian Constructivist opera "Sieg Uber Die Sonne".

23 eyeless furballs descended the stairs.

I saw William Bennett naked. It was a real horrorshow!

I want very much to be a registered nurse. This is a test of the systems of emerging democracies have you gotten your loan from uncle sam or are you waiting for the body count to reach 100,000? Sandy removed the object, and set it on the table. no then there was the time when i was a little baby and i was driving to fast and the police pulled me over and i took his gun away from him and i shot him and he was dead and he was naked naked. ohhhhhhh don't lie , don't lie ohhhhhh your sick in the head, your sick in the head delene you know that. I'm not the one made a mess here I'm not the one how...., i ought to, i ought to make a mess. Well I just hope your happy with your little cop buddies. I'm not happy, i not happy about anything. then there was the time when i was a little baby and i was driving to fast and the police pulled me over and i took his gun away from him and i shot him and he was dead and he was naked. ohhhhhhh don't lie, don't lie, you r sick, you r sick in the head. i not sick, i'm not the one who made a mess here i'm not the one who..... i ought to, i ought make a mess. i just hope your happy. i'm not happy i'm not happy about anything. move to the view of the standing pod, all is for the root to follow. Follow. quietly for the time of being still, next to the fading shadows. standing wave accounts for the single most cause. more essential tahn the remaining few, only to become like the rest there's more to it than that, just look at the whole thing. as through the guise from the other side. a pass can extend rather than turn. a new place to tie to, an old rope to tie with. scraping along to provide an aural account crawling darts rustle in the corner of a crowded corner. of the the darkened path that everyone talks about, but nobody knows of.............. Force is the object, and force will run dangerously into new patterns. The TOASTY-FRIED CO-OP is such a force, or at least was intended as such when it began. That is to say, there was no purpose, nor attempt at organization, save the deliberate goal of dis-organization, which is what we have now. This could certainly be viewed as a success! Words like "order" no longer apply. Do you see what I am getting at? Now, let us look at the names: Peter, Randall, Timothy, Nicholas, Guy, Michael, Mark (Sarge), NOT John (which is to say the other of the same name), almost forgot Dan. The stories came later. We began writing these stories at first to amuse ourselves. No controversy. Dis-order at its finest. That is to say, our finest hour. As I remember it, it was in the Fall of 1982 that this dis-organization began to wreak it's own special brand of havoc, but most of those involved would seem to disagree with me. That is why most of those involved are wrong. Bye-bye for now. Stick around til later. Does anyone know if Ron Lessard ever got that thing out of his mouth? I'll take mine with cream and sugar, thank you....is this machine recording? When is Steve Stapleton going to tell Barry McCarrus to get his ass back to FORT MYERS where it belongs? "I love you with a constant and devoted love," Peter stammered. He was losing his footing on the steep rake of the deserted stage. The candlelight floorlamps were flickering out one by one and the dim shimmering was making the room spin around him. "But I can't have another - ", and he fell. Rolling towards the edge of the stage, he snagged his trousers on a protruding floorboard and was soon half-clothed and unconcious on the red stage.

Several members of the audience became wolves and they began to howl and bare their teeth. Without prey they could never survive the harsh winters of backstage. i still can't belive waht happened next , she came around the corner and walked right up to me and said "how could you do that how could you just sit there and let me do that to myself, you know good and well that i'm not supposed to let myself get all worke dup like that." and i thought what the fuck am i going to do to stop her from pulling that stuff on herself. She Then Became a Wild Woman With A Steak Knife and from within she found nothing. not even the rot. decay. after he ate them he began feeling more and more astonished about the increadible smell spreading inside of his room. Then I licked my finger with such a passion that only the gods would have known the desire in my heart. There are currently 17 different types of deoderant soap in my kitchen, and i'm afraid i don't have enough katsup for them all. The sighs were lamentable, and the table was greening rather nicely, but i am or was still miserable. Miserere! Coco is beautiful. It had been a long time since I opened that box.
The torn piece of paper inside said 1988.
What do you do when your memories have been coated with
melted Starburst?
How do you pull symbolic signficance from bad candy?

I like to eat cheese and fart because I like the smell of farts and the taste of cheese. Put them together and you get a great meal with entertainment. It is fun to watch people fart said the fat cow. I like people to sniff my butt too. Why don't you cum :) over and get some milk said ole Betsy the stinky moose. A blinding flash. Though it was impossible to see in this inky blackness, my senses told me that I was floating in some sort of warm liquid. I could feel my conciousness slipping away. The dream begins... contains a disclaimer of often felt harmony. Suddenly, the lines of sacks and onion dressings F a ll ing ... The warm liquid surrounded me like green oozing blobs from space taking over the world. Just then I felt a cold fealing inside me. I couldn't take it anymore... I wouldn't take it anymore. Then I woke up. It has all been a dream... A realistic violent, yet meaningful dream. I realized that I really didn't like cheese at all and farts stunk. I was glad to get away form it all yet I felt kind of lonesome and half without that fealing. But I realized that I would always have a part in An Exquisit Corpse of Sorts. "How do you set it double spaced?" "In what?" "In the computer." "In what on the computer?" "In Microsoft 6.0 or something like that." Pink formatted pincushions porched on a camel from Damascus called out to the oversized tripe eating beer can from Toledo, saying "Lord Kissmyarse commands thee to pass along one of those beers." And from there eddieandbill went without the goat-footed balloon man to have many and greater adventures, some of which had naked women with heaving alabaster bosoms which hit eddie in the chin. councils not boring and otherwise taking up radio time, conscious moments engaged listeners listening erosion and other notions of chaos (de)evolution into the dueteronic struggle of hyper-obsessed Americans with their guilt over the loss of history - questionable testimony of experts, money drives their choices...EOL

I tried so very hard to read his handwriting scrawled palimsestically upon my body, it was too much to bear.

pickle bean sugar two circles etching snow paper canister with holes and the shadow in someones hair more focused on the capsule rollers all the difference under a red seatbelt fading crisis lighting pencils in wavelet form flux of marbles no cognition this way and fires this time to reconcile blurred visions of eyeless sight snow capsules driving fleeting the grimace of answers a bee becomes the atom and then orange the fire slipping into remote dream singing past the ephemeral waif reflections all spinning open skulls the particle cracks enter teardrops flesh past horizons new the brazen filament one life for circles two distances for you my brethren of saccharine fresher blood on windowsill shiver red and black forward forward three the symbol aperture on loneliness apprehension over skyward forms the ice floe dies vicious triangles flutter through penguin blood cannot realize the crystal dawn a signal to wait he is drawing closer his staff on a bell how red his knife cutting the black widow mark seething to penance Josef dreams of heads in potion freezing into wax severing their necks and screaming awakening the thin rail fence shafting penumbra of spirit gracing holes the glory beckons with swirling scythes to thresh out innocence how faint the wind but sure, there are white lines anxious gimace supersedes the burning of the wheat fields eyelids bubble forming three-pronged souls and Christ is weary at the festival of languid tibial molotov straight perforce our bodies rolling through the hillside a cenotaph spits forth a head ten bullets hit the phonograph erotic frogs gulping beacons left and right the simmering goose slays the rabid spider fields of rape intertwine with fuzzy plastic Noddy dolls the end is tumbling turning near to sleep is HERESY.....

spinning tired eyes afloat in restaraunts gazing onto falling grass and smoke upsurges through the rooftop eyes are wondrous weeds grow thinner clouds escape to the foot of the sun all set to bring in the day and soon after chocolate rivers seethe with your blood your body cringes in hallowed despair as rivers flow create the gargoyle mask detain your fifteenth eyelid splatter brains bones and skulls to spring to life and lick off blackberry juicethe infinite fence bends in the shape of a crucifix smiling at the moods grim glow future passage to the higher slopes and still the spiders lay dreaming of foothill clouds and yellow strands of plastic rope your motives cry spinning on the frozen metallic ground oblivious to makeshift warblings of the most unloved potato... down the brazen cliffs of yesteryear he watches syrup melt in triplicate Joey devours a pile of calipers if love was river and blood was stone a turbine womb most certainly would appear and slice away all young piranhas the morning passage of steaming serpents belies the whimpering balustrade aghast in vapor two anoraks devoid of all humanity enflamed discussions of the Hall effect yes father cannot yell the queen would smother you but she has angina the ant would swallow you but Joyce has her cats fingernails to bite three lemon drops on the muffled carseat enraged vortices hearkening for the great return a quadripole of tortioses stand on frozen tippietoes waiting for the call and cream inexplicably flows from every circumsized asshole apocalypse apocalypse i see it now He took the slinky out of her and slapped her in the face. "How dare you take it with out my permission!" She cried, only building up the anger in him even more, and that was when it happened. He raised his hand to pound her with another punishing blow when his heart stopped and he dropped limp to the ground. She sat there, crying, wondering what the hell had happened. Again I find that it is not so. No longer are events being controlled by my actions but the spool I had "GARGAMEL!" and the three wise offerings were suddenly left without a wife.. juju i said again and again, but she could not hear. Though the rain still came down, and his situation was bleek. There was a chance of success, if only the young lady remembered to call. Prop-strike! And just in time too as the sun was about to set over the seemingly endless shades of gray city smog. My boyfriend told me he was drag queen named Debbie. My boyfriend told me he was drag queen named Debbie. I was a little shocked at first. But i had suspected al lalong. He then asked if he could borrow my clothes. It was really odd. I mean havign your boyfirend share your clothes with you is a bit strange. He ecpecially loved my plaid skirt and polo shirt he said it made him look lie kan innocent little Catholic school girl. We went to Subway one day and almost everyone there was hitting on him. It was awful. I mean this is my boyfriend. I told him he could be Debbie as long as it didn't interfere with our sex life. That is when things got odd! let the light guide you to wherever you wish to go The eyeballs firing from the walls startled him as he blindly fumbled for his stomach. His skirt couldn't protect him. He was prone. Beyond anything his loved one could imagine, his own eyes followed suit, popping from his skull and joining the frenzied aggregation of liberated vision cells all around him. "If only I had remembered," he mused, before melting into the floor, blinded, still ignorant, and still skirted. No one hits on a blinded man, no matter how much the innocent dogan he looks, or how sensual his sockets may be. After all, skullfuckers are frowned upon at the Subway. just how was she,as it came down to the theroy not ever gestured move to the view of the standing pod, try to make the needle pass a few doubts along the way, what does it look like, if not what it is? not ot be duplicated. stich the line of time, is it, or isn't it? within, without an opposing reply to the most similar interest, it is to be molded, as into that which breaks. leaning towards the linoleum, as if it ever could be reached.

An Exquisite Corpse of Sorts

The chance of a desert flight in the crashing wake of falling shards Dogs in heat bath in the sun. Flesh not feeling at the wake of the hour. NOTHING! After lying in the blackness for what seemed many months, he managed to regain consciousness, pulling himself to his knees. He remained sightless though, and, recalling the incident of weeks previous, he blindly grabbed the floor around him to try and secure one of the masses of eyeballs whose mass-attack had ultimatley left him blinded before his collapse. Serendipitously, he managed to secure a couple of orbs and jam them into his empty sockets...not a perfect fit, but in such circumstances, it would have to do. Morons like Klein might take blind leaps into the void, but he wanted to be prepared for whatever might come his way, ready or not. He was no half-asses concept artist, but a man in a svelte dogan skirt, looking to find what the elapsed weeks had stolen from him. hide it in a tree ... both laughing because they had never heard of the other, and ... but what if i just walked up to her and said that i couldn't look at her without having this strange feeling, a feeling like that as if i could just look at her and look at her but not if i said i could look at her if i could only have this feeling as i looked at her. Then, suddenly, out of nowhere, a flaming aardvark appeared. It was a bright yellow, which is rather uncommon for aardvarks, but to be expected for this one, seeing as it WAS in flames and all... The smoke led to a passage inside a great beast, where the air was clear and red like dust on the sole of a cowboy's loafer. Who was this man, that so reeked like a thousand inner peaces? And why could he possibly feel the html that we here underground call "plastic"? Going on, burrowing deeper into the molded gelatin, smelling Bo Diddley in a shower and a shave, without previous knowlege of peering eyeballs or equality, one runs into a stinking carcass of a mouse. When asked, the mouse will reply, unless the bells are ringing in which case he shall scurry - with scurvy.

And then she screamed For fours days all we had to amuse ourselves was a small silver hairclip, now my throat contains 3/4 of a pint of puss and blood. Pain hurts. Life is pain. People make me laugh and sometimes I like to go out to the pictures with my friends. People make my throat hurt. the saint marched smoothly over teh snow laden citiy laying to waste those which he deemed unworthy of grasping the inner comforts of dark rye toast. Then the cool one came on the scene. He was all hair and finely tailored clothes and spoke with the perfect accent of an unknown country. "I've come to take you," he proclaimed. You could not resist. You followed like a well beaten pup. After five minutes he turned a said, "The time is now." Then gently tore out your throat. So Mike left the room ranting "Deer Eat Sheep" He had no clue that there was a small worm in his back pocket. The weather just wasn't right for that sort of thing. Besides, he wasn't exactly the brightest. TASTE THE COLD FLESH!!! TASTE THE COLD AND ROTTEN FLESH!! I drew a breath and pushed the broken shard of obsidian against my arm; the skin sagged to receive it. I pressed harder, but the skin did not break. I pressed harder, but still my skin remained whole. So I pulled the primitive blade slowly down the side of my arm, and my skin slid beneath it. Then, with a pop that I could only slightly feel, my skin opened to the obsidian¹s dark gouge and split with a tearing vibration along the path I made. I continued to drag the little plow of obsidian, creating an inch-long furrow in my arm, opening my flesh to a fruitful juice. I pulled my hand away and peered into my arm. The blood I released made a crooked river through the forest of my hair, and my wound smiled at me with a shimmering rouge. I wiped the blood away and dabbed a Q-tip in the ink. I wiped the blood away again and quickly soaked my smiling arm with the black liquid. The little grin now bled a black lightning bolt down my arm and I continued to soak it up. I looked at their wounds, and back at mine. And I realized I had made my cut much deeper than they had made theirs. it was as if being seen, as if from the other side. but not only seen, but also heard. it was unlike any sound i have ever heard. it came from underneath my brain, and then out through the top of my head, my "HAYED" that is. oh i wish i could be a big fat dog, i would sleep all day and eat like a HOG! it's raining it's pouring the old man is snoring, he jumped out of bed and bumped his head, and didn't wake up 'til morning. It is strange how one does feel after his manhood has been taken from himself. She didn't mean to hurt him, but she did. His heart was essentially ripped to shreds right before his own eyes, and still she didn't care. Now, she only feels bad for herself and dwell on what other people might think. She never once stopped to ask her lover how he felt about it all. He was the most hurt. HE was the who shame fell upon. YET HE HAD TO BE THE STRONG ONE!! bliss/the vagabond. fire with details of new territory. son. father. all in a row no.the guns fire blood purple daffodils skip along the garden path and then erupt under the fury of men. a child finds an old yo yo buried in the garden. and 2morrow is just another after war syndrome. The circumference of Lisa is directly proportional to the amount of twinkies purchased at Convenient stores in the tri-state area. Incidentally, the number of fruit flies and other strange insects appear to increase as well. SUDDENLY! A root shot upwards from the earth..up! my bum and out me feckin' mouth rrrrrrippping out my heart and soul till 4 o'clock in the

I locked myself out of my apartment

But then, holy vomit, I cannot describe what happened next, my will is not strong enough, I must faint... and the is the way the way that it can be may never the lap of fury placebo placeboplaceboplaceboplaceboplacebo placebo nothing was left but my heart...it was still bumping..and someone came along and saw it..then suddenly I fell asleep.."zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzoooooooooooop!" nothing was left but my heart...it was still bumping..and someone came along and saw it..then suddenly I fell asleep.."zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzoooooooooooop!" WWWWWWWWWaaaaWWWWWWaaaaWWWWWaaaaaWWWWWWaaaaaaWWWWWWaaaaahaa-a-ha She went on like a blind bat in a neon microwave cave with the sound careening of the horrible crags of the buildings of the towering city in a glass cage of a shrill scream. Hence the pinapples grew and multiplied over the land. My God, I miss her. Slowly, I can feel her turning from me. Soon, she will not even reckognize me. This wasn't at all what I originally had in mind for us, but I suppose that it must be for a good reason. WHO AM I TO QUESTION THAT WHICH I DO NOT UNDERSTAND? The Worm had grown to be much larger now, and it could hardly fit in someone's pocket without being noticed. When the worm was first discovered, shock was naturally the intial reaction. But after a short time, the worm had become part of the family. THIS WASN'T AS SHOCKING AS YOU MIGHT THINK CONSIDERING THAT HIS HEART HAD BEEN BROKEN AND THE WOLVES ATE FROM THE SORE AND BRUISED REMAINS. A housemaid dangled a split infinitive between her hairy lips and sputtered. The soup was running cold and grey into the Cashmere Kitchen were kitty and jelly were fondling tea-leaves with their mind. A noggin bolted the twins in half and fourteen of the liberation fish came speeding into the room the the socialist dinner theatre (survival branch). honey honey honey tummy honey honey honey . How many new advances were plagueing and raging on the spinal frontier? hello, kitty? Softly ran the dumpling (TM) into the night without a fork in the world. Like the singer, he is unloved. But their worlds will never collide due to the subatomic applebees between them. honey honey honey tummy honey honey honey . A housemaid dangled a split infinitive between her hairy lips and sputtered. The soup was running cold and grey into the Cashmere Kitchen were kitty and jelly were fondling tea-leaves with their mind. A noggin bolted the twins in half and fourteen of the liberation fish came speeding into the room the the socialist dinner theatre (survival branch). honey honey honey tummy honey honey honey . How many new advances were plagueing and raging on the spinal frontier? hello, kitty? Softly ran the dumpling (TM) into the night without a fork in the world. Like the singer, he is unloved. But their worlds will never collide due to the subatomic applebees between them. honey honey honey tummy honey honey honey . and tore up aluminum foil into crimped-up mirror shards honey tore up aluminum foil into crimped-up mirror shards. "I look like tiny bits of alcoholic beans," said the Queen Bee.... Blow ye all the mouse drippings like a pollock-in-progress. I need mustard. want het verhaal blijkt zinnens waar te zijn. Het metacorps ook. THE REVEREND DAVID BREMER THE RESCUE MISSION DJÄKNEGATAN 17 S-722 15 VÄSTERÅS SWEDEN ... Dear Brother, Perhaps you have heard of me and my nationwide campaign in the cause of temperance. Each year for the past fourteen I have made a tour of Europe and have delivered a series on the lectures on the evils on drinking. On this tour I have been accompanied by my young friend and assistant, Clyde Lindstrom. Clyde, a young man of good family and background, is a pathetic example of life ruined by excessive indulgence in whiskey and gluttony. Clyde would appear with me at lectures and sit on the platform, wheezing and staring at the audience through bleary, bloodshot eyes, sweating profusely, picking his nose, passing gas and making obscene gestures while I would point him out as an example of what overindulgence can do to a person. Last fall, unfortunately, Clyde died. A mutual friend has given me your name and I wonder if you would be available to take Clyde's place on my tour next season. Yours in faith, David Bremer Rescue Mission is it a prioriety that i become sucked into this charade, it must be a mistake, it's a lamp, it's a limp, it's a lump. Lamp Limp Lump. Fraley Deas was missing for several years. found hat full of ducted float child uopon and if into point to point plus dear near sad filth are is we questioned kin beside with bated breath far fret damn it hot link jarm everywhere do not fear of that little bid jackson thre tossed seven rolled up for a new pair of shoes Oh, the damned fool is at it again! Won't someone please help him? HOW IS IT THAT SUCH FOOLS ARE ALLOWED TO ROAM SO FREELY AMONGST THE SAVAGE WOLVES? DON'T THEY REALIZE THAT THEY WILL SURELY BE DEVOURED? *^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*" THIS IS SUCH A HORRIBLE FEELING," HE CRIED. Leather! LEather! Leather! We all scream as it suddenly occured to all of us, for no good reason, to muss our hair and fling ourselves off the precipice of the bldg. So no one cares. Even the friends who looked on from below, laughing, could see not for their own misery. Blood and Raphael! Fuck Raphael! Fuck Herman! We shall fly, be remembered, and be celebrated by those who follow. I certainly did not occur to us that it all could get much worse. never amore a piranha, says i Wondering about shoe sizes i sped rapidly to the city where there was simply no more fruit baskets. a trout in my herring! oh i cried i cried i cried, but i found only solitaire players mimicking many young ducks unsullied by sucklings. Oh, what was a sturgeon to do? a skill has gone out of the business! This pain is not really your own. It was really nothing more than a mail-in offer from that stupid gum that everyone seems to chew these days. What happened to the days when people would devour their neighbors to pass the time? Oh, how the poor bastards do turn into blatant sobbing fools each time they chew that gum. What can you expect from a gum that is made from the reproductive glands of a worm? Why even last night i found my old dominatrix chewing the damned gum in an alleyway behind the Severed Head Bar. It's so addicting; a young woman that I once had carnal relations with sold her lovely, soft tongue just for two packs of gum. After the loss of her tongue, we stayed together for a while ( she couldn't yell at me anymore) but it was so boring strapping her upside down and whipping her naked body. each night. After all, I was a man with needs and I wanted to be bitten AND licked from time to time. Is that so wrong? At any rate, that is a diferent story entirely. The issue at hand is the mercy that our entire race has fallen to over this damned gum. It's almost as bad as the Taco rampage of the 40's that the government is still trying to cover up. why can't i get it? i have looked at this for hours on end over a period of years, and it still don't make sense to me. Sometimes i feel like it is hopless to continue with this, and then i will catch a hint of something and that will renew my interest, but it is all in vain,,,,...... and oh god, the pain won't stop. it hurts.

Chapter 2