Turtles in orbit
They take me for a fool
Well now the shoe is on the other foot
And you can't laugh when the warmth of the sun
Is a mere reflection off the moon
Juxtapose a memory
And steel yourself against
Turtles in orbit
Before their voyage ends too soon
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Oatmeal Armageddon
As the heavy metallic foot slowly lowered upon him, Bagby the gerbil winked at me.
Sgt. McHoggins lost all of his men trying to ford a river of lava. McHoggins himself managed to escape with only minor injuries due to the fact that he could sprout enormous wings from his buttocks.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Televisions that Explode on Impact
This story brought to you by: ERK FLOP INDUSTRIALS ©
It was a cold, dry, moist morning in December. Morton couldn't hear anything but his own pounding heart and the distant chirp of a Cardinal not molesting children somewhere far off in the long stretch of wood behind him. Chubby Morton looked around, eyeing the trees with suspicion. Everything had a grey haze about it, common for a morning like this one. The bespectacled porky pig of a man sniffed the air, detecting a sweet but familiar aroma that surrounded and embraced his corpulent figure. He had always enjoyed the smell of his own flatulence, but much to his dismay nobody else shared this sentiment. Morton was in the wooded area of his backyard, searching for the special laughing turtles with painted shells that he had read about in the Korean newspaper from September of 1941. He was still puzzling over how he was able to read the Korean print, but using his obese brain to its fullest potential, Morton had come to the conclusion that it was really just English written in Korean.
Pudgy, portly Morton continued the stealthy trek farther into the reaches of his backyard, making sure to only step on moss or stones, so that he would not make too much noise and scare the turtles away. Then he saw it--a flash of light, as if the pale sunlight had been reflected off the skin of a person of no color.
Morton the fat person's story ends here. He was never heard from again--the only traces of his existence left behind in this world were three shoes and a pair of pants that undoubtedly belonged to someone who was of immeasurably immense waisteture. The blubbery, podgy, rotund, fat fat fat, freakishly overweight jiggly-cheeked man named Morton Finkle had become the moon. This was an origin story for the moon.
Thanks for listening to yourself read this to you in your head.
It was a cold, dry, moist morning in December. Morton couldn't hear anything but his own pounding heart and the distant chirp of a Cardinal not molesting children somewhere far off in the long stretch of wood behind him. Chubby Morton looked around, eyeing the trees with suspicion. Everything had a grey haze about it, common for a morning like this one. The bespectacled porky pig of a man sniffed the air, detecting a sweet but familiar aroma that surrounded and embraced his corpulent figure. He had always enjoyed the smell of his own flatulence, but much to his dismay nobody else shared this sentiment. Morton was in the wooded area of his backyard, searching for the special laughing turtles with painted shells that he had read about in the Korean newspaper from September of 1941. He was still puzzling over how he was able to read the Korean print, but using his obese brain to its fullest potential, Morton had come to the conclusion that it was really just English written in Korean.
Pudgy, portly Morton continued the stealthy trek farther into the reaches of his backyard, making sure to only step on moss or stones, so that he would not make too much noise and scare the turtles away. Then he saw it--a flash of light, as if the pale sunlight had been reflected off the skin of a person of no color.
Morton the fat person's story ends here. He was never heard from again--the only traces of his existence left behind in this world were three shoes and a pair of pants that undoubtedly belonged to someone who was of immeasurably immense waisteture. The blubbery, podgy, rotund, fat fat fat, freakishly overweight jiggly-cheeked man named Morton Finkle had become the moon. This was an origin story for the moon.
Thanks for listening to yourself read this to you in your head.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
What's it like...
in tortoise hell?
You lose your shell
You lose your shell in tortoise hell
What's it like
in Batman hell?
There's no eyeliner
and you're poor
You lose your shell
You lose your shell in tortoise hell
What's it like
in Batman hell?
There's no eyeliner
and you're poor
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Rainbow of Ecstasy
Let's all hop on the 40 mph snail and ride into the sunshine!
"Snails" is actually spelled backwards.
Tempuralitas
Doko esta la biblioteka?
Tempuralitas wo comemasho! Nomimono ga dai me gusta!
~=OÑARA=~ ( ^ o^)b
Tempuralitas wo comemasho! Nomimono ga dai me gusta!
~=OÑARA=~ ( ^ o^)b
Curtis
Curtis isn't an orange or a giraffe.
He is a balloon that had great misfortune bestowed upon him.
A million tears were cried.
He is a balloon that had great misfortune bestowed upon him.
A million tears were cried.
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