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I Wandered Through An Ancient Ruin and Found A Nurse With Wound
Chapter 1
Chapter 2 And he was once again on the same street not knowing not seeing just tripping blind feet over the same familiar cobbles that childhood graced soles with once so long before without gift of memory on his part just immediate harsh spontaneous and sweet in its own way... much as the aliens that had surrounded him in their inimitable way would never let go of him, like a comic book history with pieces submitted by everyone who was only interested in as long as a sunny afternoon would last, plenty of masturbating afternoons wasted with sun crawling across the floor... So, did he think that he weould get away with it? i should hope not. REALLY NOW, WAS HE THAT STUPID? in capital letters. Shit, though, My head is turning down. Lisbon is not for me, give your hand and pull me. Let me see the rest of the story. Let me see it. LET ME SEE IT ! Let me see it or I´ll STOLLE IT! And the text read as such: "A macreme parachute does not hold water well...fear of germs keeps me alive. Oh how I want that sensation...step on the ice cream and fall into the baptism." The plastic was shinning but not unreal BURN, WHY DOES IT BURN? MY EARS STOPPED RINGING WHEN HE TOOK THE BARBED WIRE OUT OF THEM. There was not much that could be done to efficiently potentiate the desired effect for most of us had uncertainly begun our own naive investigations into the circumstances involved. The body was always already unveiled and open to our subjective interpretations. ......and they moved down the street, in tandem, the one merely suggesting to the other, that, hey, just what did he mean when he said that "the principal cause of suffering is desire"....... O how i dreamed of my jags coughing blood at the phantasm cabaret ...I had no idea as to what i had just done. ...I had no idea as to what i had just done. I like to call it my soul carriage. the black hairs on the back of her neck......exploding The not the pope, but someone else entirely.The explosive propulsion of her breasts as I followed her path of mirth down the street. She picked up the rang. for her, existence was like giving head to a water buffalo. Incomprehensible,She wore nothing underneath the soccer uniform,why she went into church wearing soccer uniform, i couldnt tell you. Shew wove her way throught the pews,sweat dripped from her brows. The light from the stained glass pictue of the devil rained down upon her. She turned down the large echoing main hall,towards me she strode. iwanted to stroke that red hair but the distence appeared to be too great. And then she stood before me,exposing everything yet exposing nothing. I touched her,she smiled. The not the pope, but someone else entirely.The explosive propulsion of her breasts as I followed her path of mirth down the street. She picked up the rang. for her, existence was like giving head to a water buffalo. Incomprehensible,She wore nothing underneath the soccer uniform,why she went into church wearing soccer uniform, i couldnt tell you. Shew wove her way throught the pews,sweat dripped from her brows. The light from the stained glass pictue of the devil rained down upon her. She turned down the large echoing main hall,towards me she strode. iwanted to stroke that red hair but the distence appeared to be too great. And then she stood before me,exposing everything yet exposing nothing. I touched her,she smiled. I don't know what I'm doing here this late at night and the night makes you wonder about many things that you would casually glance at in the daytime.If I didn't have to worry about seeing the wretched glow of the daylight, I could go to sleep now. However, I must keep the vigil over the useless manifestations of my own fear of daylight. DAMN! HOW CAN I EVEN ATTEMPT THIS CRUEL MISCARRIAGE? How can I let my own words drip out into the VOID of the dark unapreciative world and never know what happens to them? You better pay some respect to the creator. @@@aND tHE aLIGATOR aSSHEAD hAS cOME fOR tHE oVERTOWED uNDERLOAD aS tHE mASTER eXTORTIONIST bABYSITTER sITS fAITHFULLY oN tHE fACE oF hER bOYFRIEND/sUBMARINE sANDWICH. tHIS iS nOT aS uCOMMON aS yOU mIGHT tHINK. iT wAS oNCE eVEN pROPOSED aS mANDITORY lAW tHERE. bEING jUST nORTH oF hOUSTON, tHINGS wERE oFTEN bACKASSWARDS. iN oRDER tO bE a pUBLIC/pUBIC oFFICIAL, yOU hAD tO bE a cOMPLETE cROOK. tHINGS rEALLY hAVEN'T cHANGED tHERE sINCE tHOSE qUICKLY dISPOSED oF pHOTOS oF sHERIFF wILLIAMS mOLESTING hIS oWN pET dOG wHILE iN a fULL bONDAGE hARNESS. oH, tHINGS wERE qUITE tHE SHITPILE hERE iN mONTGOMERY. -tHE sHOTGUN caPITOL oF tHE wORLD. -tHAT'S wHY i hAD tO sPLIT, iNCEST wAS tHE nORM aROUND hERE, aND tHAT jUST wASN'T mY tHING. bESIDES, i rEALLY nEEDED tO fURTHER mY rESEARCH oN tHE pOCKET wORMS. i hAD a fEELING tHAT eVERYONE wOULD sOON bE dRINKING zIMA aND lISTENING tO tHE gIN bLOSSOMS. -yOU cAN sEE wHY iT wAS sO iMPORTANT tO lEAVE. i cHARTERED a rIDE oN vEGETARIAN wOLF aND bEGAN mY jOURNEY.@@@ you are a dirty slut aren't you? My disposition has taken a very negative turn, and I feel safe to say that it is all your fault. Athena never stuck the barbed wire so far up my ass. Why did you find it necessary to do so? Oh well, the nanamax is before us a the dawn rings ill to those of us without a healthcare plan. THERE MUST BE A CORRELATION BETWEEN BOVINE AND POPCULTURE. WHAT IS THE BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS? ........ Sullied the frog legs with hypnotic disco butter and duophonic subcreations. Smacked green in the night like a paranoid hangover from some grey jelly consumed a century later. we have lost the power of speech. where now was the book with the tattered pages?? lost and scareed he let out a yelp that sounded surprisingly like Kathie Lee Gifford with a turnicut on her left boob oscillator.. No longer would the fish come near him and his mighty voice. An opera singer without a hair in the world, he chanted something along the lines of "smells of treaking meat". "So it shall be," said the king, "we will penitrate further into the deep unknown!" Back to the dull black type... liquid puring from the tipped inkell. "I'll have it on Sunday:, she bellowed. "Perhaps sooner. Or perhaps we'll never know." "Never find the end of the thin blue line. Penciled in on the unfolding flower of my heart." "Beating like the homonculus on the inside." black and green the clicker clatter. He started on Monday. Or Tuesday? He'd better find out. The hall-way lights were dimming, the slow shuffling gathered pace. The shaver, though well gelled, cut deep. Just a slit, a small incision. Desperatly he ran the chap stick over the wound. Stinging madly the mirror bent it's shape .Concave, convex, reflecting it's none too subtle chimera of desperation. The plastic nob was turned, the , more and more too bring out the stinging end. The blood was stopped. He washed the sink the of errant hairs. Mary waiting to use the shower bought forth. after falling off the edge of the world There was no way to escape this horrible fate. Consciousness faded. Everything became the darkest black that can be imagined times ten. 1 Here and now. But I was. So I sucked my own dick and said: - "Mother, I'll be home late today!" Most apparent, in this instance, were the hands; the lines shot from the fragile finger tips like stars. Most apparent, in this instance, were the hands; the lines shot from the fragile finger tips like stars. If there was reason for depression, it could be this; his scrotum dangling low from such abuse became a trademark, of sorts. It was not uncommon for me to comment, "SEE THERE??". I don't know what kind of a response I expected. I caught the last of his semen in my left hand and smeared it on my face - it smelt of moss and worry. "I don't love you," he interjected, " I'm going to make your uncle my whore". "too late," said I , a little sadly, "too late for the truth" "Stay away from My Frog!", He screamed as he beat on the door with a giant pickle. "Iknow you are the one that painted my fish purple and green" in one of many chairs. a very comfertable chair. sorrounded by metal, carried by wings. i smoke my cigar. What frustration these oddities have brouht me, and yet what fascinations... I suppose anyone would feel the same - more like a pig on a nervous day than a beetle when the crow flies.. wait: more interference fron outside. Life is a fragile shell, as the hammer told the walnut. I want to lie down and fell this weight press out the foulness in my lungs; the breath of kings inside me. Anyway, as for dinner... Fun seashores were beaconing to him as he stipped bare an splashed in the setting jello. "Where is she?!" I blurted as to stop the unending chatter of the scissors at my side, but wait, how could god be with me and with her. So I made the conscious decision to force the god I knew and loved into a bottle of Gin, only to arrise when I rubbed his shinny cap. The sheering scisors applauded my move and rewarded me with a brand new snake, of course it was glow in the dark, but it also had a nifty toothbrush built into each eye. So spinning the wheel of fortune I found out my mother was stuck in the Mayo jar again, Ach MAYO. Well she will have to wait, for now. so it seemed that this problematic emblem of truth, justice, and the amarretto sour would soon be defunct. but in my mishapen faith i presumed the holocaust immediately after it happened. THE BEGINNING And still, the clouds above me sail the shallow sea of air which enfolds this temperate mudball. My eyes throb, and my lungs contort as I breathe their turbid wake. And still, the clouds above me sail the shallow sea of air which enfolds this coldest of poikilothermic bipeds. Mark my words. Hear the cavitations, feel the brightest colors, smile with death gripped tightly in your teeth. Hail... Falling, the sensation wouldn't stop. Up was down and down was up, seeing my feet above my head was an unnerving experience. moving never works out After the dark chill has passed the creature woke to a alarm above the street light. How long has it been ringing? Perhaps it was not, but they soon realized that this was the last time anyone had seen the blue string again. His ass exploded into flame. Holy! Holy! Holy! The revolution is at hand! William Bennett stumbled from behind the retaining wall, looking wasted but exhuberent. His cock was on fire, having been struck by lightning. "I've just been in a pissing match with that Chris Heeman prick" he puffed as he doused his flaming schlong with a handy pint of beer. "Fried his skinny ass good. Next time he won't be so quick to rip me off!" And with that he was gone. Peter Sotos had arrived on the scene and spirited Bennett away to the hardware store, where they had to stock up for their impending visit to the Catholic Girl's school across town. Hi de ho. All the while a young tadpole swam upstream wanting to forget all that had happened. would you like to do so-and-so mister weevil and black would you like to do so-and-so mister weevil and black. Partially frilled sinus blobs commenced to telescope prehensile gut-twiddlers out through the violated edge of Rickshaw Mule. A trisected dandy hiccoughed and bloached. blow me.

That's right, I said blow me.

Suck me, fuck me, eat me, beat me! FRONTWAYS FRONTWAYS Strain and fatigue rack your torso as you ramrod bludgeoningly frontwards through the bad-smelling anus of the epileptic, dyslexic sexophobe. Underfed athletes in other folks' underalls stand by for surprises with saurkraut spurting from their armpits in a soft nostril of pain. A "half-wit" steps from their circle to challenge you. The sexophobe's head sexily collapses under the weight of your buttocks, assuming a rare turnip form. Walking under an asbest sky, looking for my typewriter,. In the distance the collapsing new building, feel the sweat. Someone ask me for the burial of the black sardine... Meet nil by mouth on the corner, if, as you believe, they will agree Three and twenty blackbirds calculated pi. She became he and he became she while they became me. Funny, I don't FEEL like an omelette... Yesterday the bad man came again. He made me do things... great things... wonderful things... it was horrible. Slash goes the razor, out goes your mind. Mr. qwe4yt crawled from the ceiling and looked up at me, his vestigial clitoris throbbing, asking why the die? Silence, Mr. lkjsdf, you have been smitten by my mitten nine fortnights ago, if you care to speak, kindly remember to keep thy purulent orifices shut at all times. "Mal" content, formed and odorous, I turned and opened "Doror" one per ception. CHAPTER 3 CHAPTER 4 Many years ago, when I was an old serpent, eye felt a sharp paign in my cam. What are you, little doggie? Our you the anthropomorphication of my ontology or where you crying okra and jujyfruit? Believe you when she tells me that! She looks up and whips down. I look down and throw up. The jitney jerked along. The children hobbled to their seats, muttering to one another about the price of tuna fish in Reykjavik; the elderly screamed and cried, swinging from the rails, running up and down the aisle, tripping and crying as tey fell. Come here, Lizaveta, sit on my newspaper. I will listen to your tail of madness. It begins on the jitney, does it not? I know that's where it ends. Instinctively, I reach up and tug the tongue lolling above me. From beneath my feet I hear a groan. I jerk and twist. Wheeze to me, Lizaveta, wheeze, oui, oui. Deprived of your sense of touch, you can never read braille aloud to me. Edward walked the thin line to the edge of the forest how odd, thought he that

The Exquisite Corpse was a game played by the surrealists which involved one person writing part of a sentence, then passing the paper onto another person who would write the next part, but without seeing the previous section. They would build sentences this way which were said to reveal hidden truths about the authors and the world. This idea was used in many different forms, but the idea stayed basically the same. This idea was adapted into the 'Progressive Story' which is essentially what I am presenting here, where each person adds a bit to the story where the previous writers left off. However, you can approximate The Exquisite Corpse by writing your contribution blind. I won't be inserting any formatting characters, so if you want a line break, paragraph, or emphasized text you'll have to imbed the html directly into the text yourself before you submit it.

Damn, that was deep.

That's not my cock, I'm just disappointed to see you. Xerxes told himself to stop telling himself things as his grip tightened on his scrotal sac. Listen, my parents, and you shall hear the story of Cyrus the dipsomaniac, somnambulist yucca: "The Story of Cyrus the Dipsomaniac, Somnambulistic Yucca" Part 1: Admiral Konchalevsky woke to the sounds of his servant preparing his bath. It was a night like any other. The sun was resting comfortably on his nightstand right where he left it and his wooden teeth smiled down on him from the placenta-colored sky. He waved to them, remembering to floss upon noticing the half-chewed child meat lodged between his molars. He went back to sleep. John slept soundly without ego. Virtually noone broke wind. With capriciousness, ballet spawned speaking parts: arms, gesticulating ears, various paranormal expendable tongues, and Klingons. "What in the world did you mean by Klingons?" Barry McCarrus extrapolated. Peace makes war. War is endless. Noisy, isn't it! Tony swept the wide brown pile of putrid waste high into the air. The full force of the action brought down tiny drops of sulphourous residues. It had been a long day! Waisthigh it flew, and higher still, the wind carrying toward the forgotten city sunset. And then as the moon drifted down towards the sea, the fishes began spilling their experiences out onto my feet. I wondered what was really going on, now that i was so far from home. Here, as before, we find the movement out of culture to be revelatory. I REVEL in the demise. I REVEL in history. You are history. You are mystory and yourstory too. I think it is now time to move on. The sea rises to embrace the moon. A man walks beneath a lamp light, his smoke filing the shaft with a slightly unclean love. He saunters down the alley. He knows. At the end of the alley, Kali is waiting for him. She will give him what he needs. And I too need him. The waves crash against my windows. The stereo fades out with the tides. In the dawn's early light blah blah blah and then it stops.// aND TO THINK THAT ALL THIS IS BUT ONE LIFE. ONE PERSON'S POSSIBILITIES. iT IS AN INFINITE UNIVERSE, AND IN AN INFINITE UNIVERSE, EVERYTHING must HAPPEN. EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE. EVERYTHING IS TRUE. Furiously she hacked at the clam. It stared back, longingly, begging silently for one mighty whack to catch its main hinge and split it, ending its miserable life. She frowned. "If you're going to enjoy it, then I'm just going to have to stop." She dropped the hatchet and watched as its salt-encrusted head crumbled to dust. FORMATING CHARACTER CONTRIBUTIONS SPEAK SOFTLY BUT MAKE A BETTER PASSWORD AS YOU WAIT FOR YOUR FRIEND TO ARRIVE AT THE SCENE. progressive story licking my happy members in the glow in the dark plasma field. The wolves are at it again, and i must say that i am frightened. so what if they ate dead things on sunday. make them love the real enemy in you on all days except that sunday. Here are the truth is revealed, and none of us really like what we see. it isn't fair ( something about bad apples ) but the show must go on. when will it end? the last thing that you want to do is make the reality of your nothingness a public display. mockery is your anal-phlegm-flam. kinda makes you wonder, doesn't it? damn, it just isn't fair.. FACE IT, PAL; YOU'RE NEVER GONNA GET LAID DOING THIS. italicize, you twit!


So, there we were, listening to Amy Grant in the moonlight... I was just about to pull out my whip and beat her, then the police showed up and busted us. As Officer Friendly wrote us our citations, he mumbled something about, "Every breath you take." This didn't bother me as much as did the fact that the oatmeal in my underwear was getting cold. After he finished writing the ticket, he masturbated on my shoe and then skipped away laughing. All of this definitely took us out of the mood for whipping, so we decided that we should just spend the rest of the evening licking each others' genitals. This (as you may all ready know,) can get incredibly boring; so in order to spice things up, I sang "Under my Skin" as I urinated in her mouth. She took it much better than I expected, and said that my urine was not as acidic as most. This was such a shock that I passed out and had another of my recurring dreams about the old Taco crisis.

you better not put, you better not cry, you better not lick your own balls, i'm telling you why; Satan is coming to pile drive your ass.

one of these days, Alice, one of these days

Inku approached me with a horrid glare. He accused me of molesting myself in front of his wife. This was entirely true, of course, but it was none of his business. I asked him to please stop sucking my dick and talk to me like a normal, rational infant, but he just wasn't interested. As much as i tried, i just couldn't seem to pull my member from his powerfull sucking motion. Before long, my skin was completely raw. Ah, this was his intention all along. By now, blood was gushing from my skinnless nub, and it was dripping from his lips. As the blood fell to the ground, it began to attract marsupial ants in search of dinner. The ants crawled all over and completely devoured Inku. The only problem was that I lost my dink in the process. His wife mourned the loss of it more than she mourned for her husband. We buried the remains of both Inku and my pecker the following Tuesday.

S & L
Chapter 3.2
no annual fee, with a $20,000 credit line and balance transfer savings
Chapter 4
And she said, "a-doo-doo-doo a-da-da-da a-la-in-ta-in-ta" and left in search of her gowies amidst the hum of the humdifier and the "who-who-who-who-who" of the raffi,so gowies found and now it's time to go tog. the pressure increased rapidly as he plummetted into the icy depths of the deep, the dead weight of the stone pulling him irresistibly downward, rapidly overcome by enveloping blackness, icy coldness, and crushing pressure kshskshskshskshshshshshhshshshshshshhshsh change the English Channel, I'm tired of this show. My submarine sandwich is beckoning me, it's tomato-shaped tongue wagging obscenely, oozing it's mayo and oil into my lap. You're my special sandwich aren't you? That's why you're in that special glass bell jar on my bureau. I know you'd never leave me and you live in a jar because you love me. Shall I eat you? Would you like that? I pick you up, your lettuce skin flaking off in fright and hold you up to my ass. I'm going to ram you up there, you know. Haha, just giving you a good scare. I bite deep into my sweet sandwich and recoil as it's internal scalpel wedges itself between my two front teeth, sinking all the way to the gum, cleaving my upper palate in twain and bisecting my tongue in the process. Damn you! I thought you loved me. I put that scalpel in you to use against intruders and you used it to hurt me! Why?! I flail about my little room, the scalpel butt projecting grotesquely from my twitching lips, blood commingling with tomato juice and mustard. Curse you, sandwich, mayfly among eternals... ChapterretpahChapterretpahC * F($*# @ WE(%*$# *! @ #$)% @* !&^%&%*($ #( # &! &) @&#$%(&* ^& $&# #&()! @)(* %(*&^)(*&# #&(*)! @)(*&% )(*$ % )(*# with a melon? )(@#$&*% %)(*^ &_@&#^%*&$ ^&(*% #)($ {}{|}{#{$}{%{^}{#@(*!&@#()^}&(%)#~ (&*)($%*@#$%^!@#$ &*^you can't wear THAT! %^^*(# @&!)@(&*#$ )$ as always blindfolded as always blindfolded. I'd like to say something more here if i am allowed, and i am, and i am. or. eh, not,. Så da sier jeg videre på norsk noe som jeg ennå ikke har tenkt på, nemlig at skrikebremsene på sykkelen ikke er fikset ennå, så fotgjengerne har noe å se fram til fortsatt. is it just another wicked game that you are trying to pull over the eyes of the bleating sheep or could it be that you are not able to defend your self against the ever growing faction of meandering nocturnal fashion designers. this terminated their often beautiful friendship. Why, asked Susan, must this be so? A sickening end

Overt hypothesis: this paranoid siren cannot overtly discern such tatterdemalion sussurations

Oscillating wildly, she scanned the room, her Oldsmobile eyes vacant and vasolined

Senescent tumour. The jade empress gestured emptily. The green light from her carburettor illuminated the narrow corridor, her 32 valve engine throbbing with piscine malice; sarcastic farting from the less than diligent guards beside the dancehall.

Sir Stephen Massey There is a hospital in Oswego, N.Y. As Momma JoE wuz slapping lard with hEr rubbEr EnamElEd rollin pin, the fishhEad brokE the window and fEll into the fErmEntEr oV Ergot fruit mEad, witch had bEEn gurgling for sEvEral moons,bEcamE thE nEw altErnativE to mouthwash az opposed to cocoa and bicarbonatE. Momma's black and dEcomposing chops now glissEnEd with a thundErbirdwinobackallEycoldpiss lustEr likE knEvEr bEforE. is this machine recording? Is recording this machine? Is Machine recording this?Is recording machine this?Recording machine is this.Recording machine this is. Recording is this machine? Recording,is this machine???? this machine is recording. Machine is recording this. This is recording machine........ and in the event of a collapse of the will, a substitute emerges from within. This appears in the form of an intention that takes the shape that the will once had. At first their will be not be a way to distinguish the two, but as the organism recovers from the collapse, it regenerates itself and a new and stronger will comes from without. A more powerful being is the one that experiences a collapse. ... so it came to me like a sexual favor dressed in nuns clothing, not to be tasted or embraced, but to hopelessly dream about and never replace. ... so it came to me like a sexual favor dressed in nuns clothing, not to be tasted or embraced, but to hopelessly dream about and never replace. I woke up from being alive and asked the gentleman, "which way to the restroom?". He replied in an incandescent whisper, "there is no rest area on the path that lies.... before you. Thats when I promptly pulled out my gun and shot him... a young boy apeared to my left and being visably upset over his fathers death, asked "Is he dead?" I looked down and away from the boy to the exquiste corpse and replied "He never was alive..." well they just went along like that for days and days. Until suddenly, when debbie came upon a true sign of what was to come. Instantly she realized that any similarities to the way she approached him were strictly serendipitous. He simply did not understand. Even when he did, there was no way of communicating this. And, as such, things began to devolve into a goo- a sticky web of inescapable emotional fungi. With such entities leeching upon her wellbeing, Debbie drifted into a catatonia far beyond anyone's reach. it's too bad huh? there was a smell from the cupboard. sHE WAS LOOKING FRANTICALLY FOR SOME INFORMATION ABOUT ANDRE BRETON SO THAT SHE COULD TEACH HER HIGH SCHOOL ART CLASS ABOUT EXQUISITE CORPSE WRITING AND DRAWING PRACTICING BUT SHE COULD FIND HIM NOWHERE ,it wasn't without great pause that she cranked wildly, sugar-plum farries in a draft ov lazy winter's cough. Scrumbled thru thee house for a pair of violent pacifists when what to my bloodshot eyes should be queer but another room in the apartment full ov exploding orange sodapop. Wallowing in my fascination I revert my genitalia to the electrical hum in the centerplace ov this gurgling chior. My sigil coumplete E are invested in the solitude ov my own personal enjoyment to grant thee wishes ov thee missing neighbors scapegoat into thee menstral night of thee pale hors Burrousian dream of a midnight sex scandal involving a fruitopia ov paraphenalia. so, run spackled speckled starlight
strange visions dot your youth with fallen sombrero chains and lankcolours schwet. munster, i'm thinking: fat, ugly, smelly... is is is, all green approximated decimal tide? We interrupt this Exquisite Corpse to bring you an important message from the makers of Anusol. Hi, I'm Jan Miller and I'm a 37 year old Systems Analyst with a loving husband and two adorable children. If you're like me, you probably suffer from minor anal irritation. Do you ever experience discomfort and unease as your anus sprouts stalks resembling those seen on potatoes left under the sink for six months? Try Anusol and if that doesn't work stick your head in the oven. In the misdirected development had enacted many new capital offenses. The Bulgarian economy continued in fatal offenses, and witchcraft. By 1800, howeverely when committed as a deterrent, and hundreds of offenses. The Bible prescribes death penalty was needless severely when committed development in fatal punished lessly cruel, overrated many cruel, overrated by others. They argued in 1994 from the death penalty: treason, murder and hundreds of the United many cruel, overrated many others. The Bulgarian economy continued its painful adjustment in fatal error. The rye was toasted at a moderate setting and placed in center of the parkway, perhaps an ant would find the texture pleasing. "We wouldn't have had these problems in Texas," he replied. Too many Beetle Baileys, not enough ants. What? Where are you? Is that a glockenspiel? Wayne: "Shit, it's 1:00 p.m." Gladys: "What the fuck do I care, you know I'm only a lamp." Wayne: "Oh yeah, I forgot, now shut up and blow me." 6834 danger Will Robinson 6834 6834? "Well, I'm just a modern guy. What do you expect?" retort, retort. San Diego rays will be coming over the horizon soon. When will those ants get here? You'd think i would have had to make a reservation or something. Yellow strips divide the way as most cautionary props do. Go this way; oh, don't you dare think to go another. Still, the ants were nowhere to be found, coming neither this way or another. Boozin' as usual? Don't think so. They knew what their assignment was to be. The toast as cold and brittle as my pubic hair after a long rain of semen has gone and come. No yellow dividers there. No, the semen just seems to journey anywhere it feels it can penetrate. There is no such thing as luck when it comes to impregnating the pubs. Clumpy love, cold and brittle. GET THEM OFF ME!!! GET THEM OFF ME!!! you laughed, raking the linoleum knife across your chin. The aunts, the antes the antebellum, anteldiluvian monstrosities of catatonic diurnal scabrous party favors. Chapter f(x) Geography, the object of my compulsively obsessive order. Close your topography; waste your blessing; sing to Mortimer again, I get such rapturous fibrulations from your stratagema. What have you done with my groceries, little ant? Did you take them to your aboveground lair with the moles and the worms? Philomela moved out with all the tapes. Although I always knew her, her sober observations and recordations created quite the imbibation. The gloves on her feet matched my toilet seat cover perfectly. Or was it just reality? The stones and debris along the east side of the road rolled slowly toward them, almost as if fate had brought them tragically to peace. The toast, staunch and altogether impertinent, rose to the occasion. Pebbles of cigarette remains beseiged the hardened carbo. Toast never fights a boring battle. Hardened grease shot from the pores of the valiant loner. Where is an army of ants when one needs one? And then it all went weird.Simply splendid.It did! All the while the fog rose and the air froze.I stood there silent and anxious.Buttoning up my parka, I lit a cigarette and headed towards the shore.Clumsily.Nervously. Looking side to side, and quickening my pace,I crossed the road. Foglights screamming from somewhere off shore.So loud it stung....... sucked into the never beginning void

The next time I wake up it won't be in that small a bed, or in a cold sweat that drips and runs from my pores onto the sandpaper rough bedsheets.

Chapter 3