Thursday, July 03, 2003
Bedtime Storee by BLENT
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No. 1: What is JUGGALO?
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What is JUGGALO? JUGGLE it?? can it see through the wall or does it see though?
why does JUGGALO see fit? or does his feet too big for his boots! HAH! Spit of the grave!
See out of window, but see out of the door? No eye is too big for it, JUGGALO? Here you r mate but dont keep!?!
It is time, GOOD NIGHT JUGGALO. Do not see head on your way. It is bumped and then pain.
GOOD NIGHT!
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No. 1: What is JUGGALO?
-------------------------------
What is JUGGALO? JUGGLE it?? can it see through the wall or does it see though?
why does JUGGALO see fit? or does his feet too big for his boots! HAH! Spit of the grave!
See out of window, but see out of the door? No eye is too big for it, JUGGALO? Here you r mate but dont keep!?!
It is time, GOOD NIGHT JUGGALO. Do not see head on your way. It is bumped and then pain.
GOOD NIGHT!
The Cauterized Wounds of Predictable Doom
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A thought had struck me previously as I lay on my bed, picking weevils out of biscuits which a "pink sailor" had flung over my threshold in fits of aquatic abandon. I could not suppress it not matter how much pressure I applied to my temples with spoons held between bottled fingerbones. It was only 5 farthings! The audacity of the salesman threatened to chase the last remaining vestige of my tightly-held and lavishly-appointed sanity into the theoretical "second" panel of popular 80's cartoon strip the Far Side. Even now I was feeling warmheaded. Removing a family of Italians from beneath the mattress may have helped; I later regretted scalping them and drying their skins, but it paid for bushels. I stood, whispering obscenities into the night. No reply. Then; a rap on the door, followed by free-associative poetry. Displeased and aroused, I threw a small coin through the mailbox with such force I flew backwards and broke a Siamese joint, as well as the dog. The door opened without incident. A man entered; "Mail for you, sir," he espoused with a tip 'o his hat, which caused the dog to break in two. I chose the head end. Rising to my feet (I was 1'3", after all) I held out my hand. He thrust the mail into it; a coin which had been lodged in his forehead flew loose, killing the head end. My last dog for two months! Infuriated, I pointed this out in the politest way I knew. Mistranslating my semaphore he fainted and died; causing hideous stench and Italian food. With the morning's pleasantries drawing to a close,
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A thought had struck me previously as I lay on my bed, picking weevils out of biscuits which a "pink sailor" had flung over my threshold in fits of aquatic abandon. I could not suppress it not matter how much pressure I applied to my temples with spoons held between bottled fingerbones. It was only 5 farthings! The audacity of the salesman threatened to chase the last remaining vestige of my tightly-held and lavishly-appointed sanity into the theoretical "second" panel of popular 80's cartoon strip the Far Side. Even now I was feeling warmheaded. Removing a family of Italians from beneath the mattress may have helped; I later regretted scalping them and drying their skins, but it paid for bushels. I stood, whispering obscenities into the night. No reply. Then; a rap on the door, followed by free-associative poetry. Displeased and aroused, I threw a small coin through the mailbox with such force I flew backwards and broke a Siamese joint, as well as the dog. The door opened without incident. A man entered; "Mail for you, sir," he espoused with a tip 'o his hat, which caused the dog to break in two. I chose the head end. Rising to my feet (I was 1'3", after all) I held out my hand. He thrust the mail into it; a coin which had been lodged in his forehead flew loose, killing the head end. My last dog for two months! Infuriated, I pointed this out in the politest way I knew. Mistranslating my semaphore he fainted and died; causing hideous stench and Italian food. With the morning's pleasantries drawing to a close,
