Mary Jane had an Evil Baby

There, in the night sky, was that a... but no, it can't be. Silence. A leaf rustles behind you, the wind blows wildly through the trees above. A scream, you turn, but it's too late... she's gone. You're alone now, the last of your party... you must find it before- before it finds you. It's cold, you breathe out the smoke from your cigarette. It's not too late. It's a baby for shit's sake. A baby that's just taken out half your team. It's not over yet, it's not over till you're gone. A twig snaps in the distance, you freeze. Where had the sound come from? In front of you, or behind? As you consider this, your nerves tense up. The hair stands up on your arms, and you start to sweat, forgetting that it's 30 below. "Run" is all your mind says, but you stop yourself. You've seen how fast the damn thing is. It practically flies. You stand very still hoping that it's motion sensing motor skills won't notice you. The cigarette flares in your mouth, you need to breathe slower. You're eyes are burning, and that damn baby isn't moving anymore. It's out there, watching you... waiting. You slide your knife out of its sheath, but it's too late. You look down and the baby's there, tearing into your calf. You kick it away, but it screams and pounces higher. It's clawing at your heart- too small to hit, you feel like giving up. It stops for a moment to look at you, blood dripping from its chin. You recognize your wife's eyes, your father's nose, and the ears of your grandmother. You're son is killing you. The knife falls to your side. You think back to that crazy night in college... you shouldn't have gotten so drunk and smoked that marijuana. It messed with your seed. Now your evil baby is dining on your flesh. It wasnt' worth it. It couldn't have been worth it. Not to die, not like this.... sigh.

Let's go down to the Convention Center... Together

Hiyah! is your greeting,
The sweat on your brow,
You've battled into me before
I didn't have my shield up, but now
I'm leatherbound, Baby,
Leather- Bound for love
Studs on my belt loops,
And no blanks in my gun
I see those biker shorts, Babe,
They're tightening my brain
I've got a scar on my face
You've got me in pain.
Look at my fluffy jacket rim, Child,
It's fluffy and new
I left my Blaster at home
But I've got some Mega for you.
I've got my Phasers all set
Set on stunning for you
That blue shirt cape is too much
I'm about to explode.
I'll wear a necklace, I've battled enough
To prove I'm a man, I can handle this stuff.
Do you see this pillar behind me
I could melt it to shreds
Just like all of my enemies
Now they're all deads.
It's good you brought your shield
You'll need it with me,
The oracle saw it
We're meant to be.

sigh, what's up now?

"Put your keys and contents in the bag" the officer said. I was like, "No friggin' way! Dammit, if this guy knew who I was!! Man, if this guy only knew where I came from." Then the man in blue said, "Sir, are you aware that you're talking out loud?" I didn't even respond. I just looked at the sucker, and unconsciously motioned for my wand. It still wasn't there. I must have lost it in the scuffle. "It's a good thing I'm not wearing my robes, these gosh darn Muggles would lock me up in one of their crazy bins." The officer was looking at me strangely. "You're doing it again, sir," he said, "Do you know why you're here? We found you with 38 grams of ecstacy in pill form. Ecstacy, street names Adam, Bean, E, M, Roll, X, XTC, a drug used illicityly as a stimulant and relaxer of inhibitions. Your pills were engraved with the signature HP from the popular childrens book Harry Potter, the world you seem now stuck in. My kids read those books, damn brats are obsessed." Why did Dumbledore leave me here? These damn Muggles! He's taking the medicine I mixed up in Potions class. I feel funny. I think some of the effects are wearing off. "I need my pills back. Give them to me or I'll hex you." I feel so funny. My head's rolling. What was he talking about... ecstacy? Damn you Dumbledore!

never meant to be...

Here are a few of my tips for the holidays... and life

1) Every time a baby cries, a fatman dies inside.

2) When you're down and out, don't lug out the vacum, kill Santa Claus.

3) If you smell like an ashtray, buy a Whopper... maybe two.

4) If your kid made one of those handprint turkeys with colorful construction paper, burn it. The flame should evaporate their tears.

5) Don't spend money on an expensive sportcoat and then whine when somebody tackles you in it.

6) Sometimes, when kids look at adults, they think of ponies. Aliens hate ponies. That's how we know kids aren't aliens... yet.

7) Every time a receipt is printed, a comic book character vomits.

8) Don't name your dog Jack... he'll hate halloween for the rest of his life (and they age 7x faster.

9) Don't ask a tire salesmen... anything.

10) Dyson thinks things should work properly... but what he doesn't tell you in his "cute" English accent is that he hasn't been into work since 1987. Think about it.

Lady-girl and the Gay Cowboy Alien

Damn horse went funny on me again. It was a long ride, m'horse, Lady-girl, was a bit bumpy this mornin'. She's always a bit of a rumpous-rouser when we're heading t' Jakes. It's like she's stuck between gears, trying to shift into third, but she can't. There I am, mid stride, and she just starts thumpin the ground, her rib cage jarring this way and that, until my boys below are two jolts away from seceding from the United Crotch of M'underpants. I swear, it was good t' get to Jakes. He's such a sweet bastard. You'd think by the way Lady-girl rode up to his ranch, that she represented th' entire community of Middle America. She just doesn't know him like I do. Jake wants to shoot her. He wants to do a lot of crazy things like that. I caught him outside with my wallet, he was eating all of my business cards. No salt. Simply stuffing them into his mouth greedily. He's only got three toes on his right foot. I saw him last night with his boots off (he never takes his damn boots off), I'm not even sure he had a left foot. When we're cuddled up together late in th' evenin' he sometimes dreams about the weirdest things. It's always outerspace this, and outerspace that. What ship docked in what port, in such and such galaxy. Jake's an alien. Yep, he told me that. I don't know how he made it up here from Mexico, but thank God he did. Hell, maybe it was Canadia, he never actually told me what border he hopped. Who am I kiddn', an ass like that.... he ain't from no canadia. I wish Lady-girl would warm up to him, though. Damn horse went funny.

John you sick S.O.B.

Down the hallway he sat. Hand on his face, leaning back in his chair, and writing precariously in his journal with his free hand, John died. I found him face down in the puddle of babble he had been doodling. Apparently he was in love. No matter. He's dead now, and the girl would never have known. Well, the girl would never have known had I not found him first. I'm not even sure I should call her a girl, from what I read in John's journal, she was a Show Girl... an ugly show girl. John loved the ugliness in life. He loved the thrill of appreciating the ridiculous. I saw him once kiss a pile of elephant dung at the circus. I loved John, but I'm afraid I was too pretty for him. He couldn't stand the sight of me. The only truly beneficial thing about our relationship (for him, that is) was the effect of my visage to his tummy. He would vomit almost immediately when I came around the corner. Oh, how John loved the sight and smell of his own vomit. I was his barf key, and he would seek me out when he needed a good upchuck. Perhaps the lovely "Chasity" of Deja Vu had become his new joy. I found a letter from John instructing me to visit his Show Girl, "Chasity". He knew I was the only one that would entertain his obsession with the obscene. Now, I grab my jacket, and I head for the Deja Vu. Here I come, Chasity, I'm bringing you John's body. That's what he wanted. You'll know what to do... you'll read what he wants... I hope you're hungry, you ugly thing. This is gross.

Cha Ching

There once was a man named Neil, and all he did was steal. I asked him once, by the side of the road, "Hey Neil, why steal? If its gold your after- just ask... if its diamonds, rolex, or rims, come to me- I'll supply all your whims!" Old Neil turned around, and said. "Yo, Homie now your dead" then we both laughed and gave a quick hug, and I filled up his coffee mug. No, not with giner ale, or milk from a pale, I put some St. Nick posion in- I'm talkin Egg Nog here, baby- that ain't no sin. What was a sin was this, as I turned round to piss, Ole Neil gave a glance, I don't think it was chance and he ran right home with my pants. So Neil's walkin now as we speak, with the pants he stole from my leak, and now I don't want them back, cause they've rubbed around on his sack, so if your readin take my advise, and infest all your clothing with lice, when drinking and smoking with Neil, watch your back while you pee- cause he'll steal.

uga uga

I got so lit last night. I'm tellin' ya, I was gone. I've never had so much to drink... I was dribblin' out juice from the sides of my mouth, and even my stem was wicked bent. I was smashed. Not literally... figuritively. Not like a "rat in a cage" more like in the way those damn teenagers do, y'know all over the sidewalk with a baseball bat. Smashed. I can't believe Randy took this photo. I was so pissed, but I guess I had it coming. It really sucks, though, I was about to pick this fine little honey up at the Watermelon patch. Oooooh, she was nice. Randy said she looked more like a raisin, but I'm telling you she was RIPE!!! Oh, I wish I hadn't blown seeds all over her shell. Damn, I was smashed.

that's right

I have no apologies, a-holes. I needed to fully prepare myself for last night. You know what I'm talking about... so, Chuck Norris is all over my telephone. He's all over my email, too. Here's an idea, give me some of your own original Chuck Norris anecdotes, and we'll call ourselves even. Deal? Here are a few unoriginal ones to get you started:

- Chuck Norris' tears cure cancer. Too bad he has never cried.

- Chuck Norris recently had the idea to sell his urine as a
canned beverage. We know this beverage as Red Bull.

- Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.

- Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order
are trademarked names for his left and right legs.

I'm sure there are thousands and thousands of these things, give me some of yours.

What's up y'all

I'm pretty sure this says it all. Unless you want a dirty Lymerick. All right.

There once was a boy from Portland
Who slept with a girl on the Beach-Sand
But the girl ran away
To a Convent to stay
So the boy needs a girl he can Port-in.

I wrote that myself, thank you very much.

You wouldn't believe this if I told you, but here goes...

Boy, it was one of those days today... you know what I'm talking about. My Mom was like, "I'm sorry buddy, I know how y' feel, y' got a monkey on your back, don't ya?" I couldn't believe she said that! I was like, "Maa-hum, try a freaking GORILLA! Jeez, this only reminds me that NO-body gets me!!" I mean, I needed some money to get some candy, and I wanted a lot of candy, so I yelled at my Dad, "Yo, give me twenty bucks!" and he said, "What do you need twenty bucks for?" and I said, "Why the hell do you need to know, just give me twenty bucks!!" so he came down the stairs, and pulled out his wallet and gave me a fifty, I looked at him, and was like, "I hope you're not expecting change" and he cocked this smirk and was like, "that's all right, son." Can you believe that shit! So I fired back at him, "You can't buy me, jerk." And then I walked away. Oh, and my Mom hid her Prescription Drugs. I had to look for like an hour before I found them. Man, my life sucks. Whatever. I just gotta hang in there.

Killin' Killin' Eatin' Sleepin' Killin' Killin' ROCKIN'!!!!

Hello, we're the doodes from HATED IDENTITY and we are here to tell you "Death Metal!!!! Yeah!" Man, what an AWESOME gig we had last night! There were girls all over the place! I was totally beatin' em' off with a stick. I am AWESOME!!! I mean, yeah, like Death Metal!!! We're Awesome. Even those smart kids love us. It's probably from the deep lyrics we yell:

I kilt your Dawg last night!
I got drunk- we got in a fight!!
It's okay- see through the fog!!!
We got love- don't need no dawg.!!!!

Anyway... come check us out, we're going on a tour soon. DEATH METAL!!!! I gotta go, Tombstone's on. KURT RUSSELL!!!! YEEEEEEAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!

Here we go road

So I've decided to become a truck driver. Starting next June... after I get my commercial licence, it'll be me and that open road. It'll be great. It'll be so great, cause I'll write poems about all the crazy characters I meet.


ME AND BUDDY

Buddy killed a hooker last night
It was hard to look at the sight
I ran away I was afraid
Buddy just wanted to get laid

I'm driving now, back on the road
Going to Georgia, drop off my load
I can't believe Buddy - doing that
I hate him, I hate him, he's fat

You meet some weird people out here
There's something in my belly... fear
I wish I could forget Buddy
Oh, but I can't... Buddy is me.

Oh, the zany, zany times. I'm going to be a great truck driver... you'll see. The best ever. Hooray for the Trucker Poet (wink).
-Sandra

I'm not two cigarette loyal

Smokers come in degrees of addiction. There are a lot of ways to figure out where you are on the list. Namely, how many cigarettes you smoke in a day. That's a big one. If you smoke a lot, you're a heavy smoker, if you only smoke a little- you're a light smoker. I'm not saying which is better (light smoker), but listen, there may be a way to tell how much longer you're going to be a smoker. Here's the test, when you're out on the porch... smoking it up with the fellas (or ladies- wink) and its a cool, crisp night, what do you do when the camel's legs are burned and gone away? You're buddy's going for another t'backy treat, you're just flipping your butt into the yard- what you decide to do here is pivitol. Everyone knows that if a friend isn't finished with their first cigarette when you're ready to go in, you wait... sit there, smile, and let him breathe. Be loyal. It's only polite, and that's across the board. Now, back to our situation. You're cold, you're finished with your cigarette, you're friends getting ready to start round two... do you wait it out? You're not "burning another one down" (Harper, pg. 4). If you go inside, if you decide you're not two-cigarette-loyal, odds are... phase smoker. If you wait it out, stickin' it with your buddy... smoker for life. Don't try and kid yourself, "But he's my BFF." Bullshit. Smoker for life.

A Dragon Poem

My Dragon
Hello Dragon
You are my friend
Because I have no friends in life
You will be my savior
You will destroy the fat people
That try to destroy me
Burn out their eyes, dragon
You can do it,
You have powers, insane
I drew you that way
Today
On my Paper during class
The teacher doesn't know
She doesn't know me
No one does
That's why I have you, Dragon
You are my friend
I'm going to draw a super cool sorceress next
She'll ride on your back
You won't hurt her
She's mine
Don't steal her, Dragon
Don't take her away
or eat her
She's just a prop to me
You'll always be my friend, Dragon
Don't be jealous
I love you, Dragon
I need her, though.
She'll mean that I'm normal
Because people will understand
They'll see her on my paper
They'll think I'm cool and normal
But you'll always be
My Dragon.

What are you thinking?

The lake was heavy today. I could feel the wake in the pit of my stomach as it smashed against the hull of my canoe. I had widdled the canoe earlier this year, and was thinking mildly of the Trobian Islanders of the West Indies. They knew what it meant to carve out a true gem from the carcass remains of a fallen stalk, chopped, murdered, disjointed by their own blistered hands. There was no hiding the distaste I had been carrying around with me since this morning. It was written on the wrinkles of my sea worn eyes. The faint scratching brought me back from my daydreaming. There were three kittens in the bag between my feet. I live in St. Elmo, of course there are going to be cats, and cats have kittens. Lots of them. There were loads this year, and these three had the misfortune of ending up on my watch. I had joined the CCSASECTOEIS (Concerned Citizens Seriously Against St. Elmo Cats Taking Over Everything In Sight) three years ago. It started as a way to make some friends, maybe find a connection to get in on some of the bigger cash deals running through St. Elmo, but I had no idea my life was going to change forever... I had no idea I would be here on the lake staring at a bag full of kittens. Jerry Fontaine asked me to take his watch late last fall. Jerry's always been a good friend to me, ever since I joined the CCSASECTOEIS, so naturally I accomodated him. Little did I know that would be the night I would meet her. Of all the porches in all the world, she crawled on to mine. Her name was Sally, she was big, blond, and beautiful. I'd never seen a cat so pregnant. She walked straight over to me, jumped in my lap, and fell asleep. I couldn't move. I was in love. I finally had the perfect pet. I had to keep the relationship quiet. Based on the rules of the CCSASECTOEIS, all pregnant cats are to be whacked over the head with the standard issued baseball bat, and brought in to be disected. The parts are then placed on spikes strategically placed around the neighborhood as a warning to the other cats thinking of losing their virginity. Sally was different, though. She was special. Sally had her kittens in my room, and I was surprised to find that I loved them just as much as I loved Sally. I turned in to a closet cat lover over the following weeks. I had four issues of CAT FANCY in my glove compartment, and a folded up poster of the kitten on the clothes line that hilariously says "Hang in There". I kept it in my back pocket at all times, stealing glances at it throughout the day- at least until I got home to Sally. But then one day, as I was rushing through the door... Sally was gone. She'd taken the kittens and vanished. She didn't even leave a pawprint. I was heartbroken. I couldn't eat, sleep, or go to work anymore. She never came home. I ended up dedicating my entire existence to the CCSASECTOEIS, and became the top executioner. Cats feared me, Old Ladies loathed me, but i was King... still, I was hurting inside. This morning it was dark. I heard pawprints on my porch, and reached out and grabbed these three little fur balls. I lifted them up quickly, threw them in to this bag, and was heading out for the lake when I suddenly had the urge to stop by Jerry's house. I thought he might like to join me. He wasn't home, but his door was open, and when I went inside I was horrified to see- sitting next to his couch- Sally, dead and stuffed. She was being used as an end table. Jerry had murdered her. I couldn't think I grabbed the bag and continued out for the lake. Killing cats was all I had known for the last year. It was all I had been doing, and now I find out that Sally didn't desert me, she was kidnapped and murdered... and stuffed. I didn't know what to do. I decided to reach for the bag, and open it up. Inside, peering up at me, were three of the cutest little things I had ever seen. They weren't kittens, though, they were little puppies. I laughed loudly, feeling much better. Things started looking up. I didn't have to kill anymore cats. I bent down and tied the little string closed, and dropped th dogs in the water. You see, I'm also on the Concerned Citizens Seriously Against St. Elmo Dogs Taking Over Everything In SIght. Have a good one, everybody. Spay and Neuter Your Animals!



(None of the above comments are meant to qualify as rules to follow... or, uh, yeah...)

Sleep well

This was my ninth grade science project. I flew down to Hawaii, found a house, and burned it down to the ground. It was glorious. Jay gave me the rest of his "pack" tonight at Amigos. There was only one cigarette left inside. I can hardly call that a pack. Let's go listen the Talking Heads, we'll go down to the beach, it's only five hours away. I'll make some popcorn, and we can suck Chocolate sauce from the trees- they have chocolate sauce trees there, at the beach. Nobody walks down there, they jog. That would be the one draw back because I haven't jogged since 1979. No secrets. Keep it up with the Fondu. There aren't St. Bernards in the Amazon. It's better that way. Remember when we were nine and a half? No, that's okay... we'll take out for Chinese. Funny dinner. Don't worry. Science project, burning down the house.

Luck be a Lady Tonight (wink)

I went out to the farm yesterday, and have been paying for it all day today. Horseback riding is one of those things that bites you in the ass later... but what a ride we had... yes, what a ride indeed. Lady (she's the bitch of the stable, but she's big, bold, and I love her) stepped on my foot twice. It's broken, but I'm not (wink). I meant that sexually. All that to say, one day with Lady was enough to separate my spinal column in three different places... let me let you in on a little secret, I was just about to type "reminds me of prom night". That's right, I was going to be that guy. Who am I kidding, I am that guy. I am such a loser. I don't understand Spanish, I can't walk a straight line, and 9 times out of 10 I would have sided with that other denist when it came to the Trident recommendation. You know, the one out of five denists that did not prefer the use of Trident over brushing. I mean, I completely understand - who's going to carry around a toothbrush for a relaxing meal at Denny's at 3 o'clock in the PM? Still, I can't shake the fact that chewing on a sugary piece of - let's face it- shitty tasting sugar cube isn't going to do jack crap for my teeth. I'm that guy. My back is killing me... fuckin' Lady.

Clip this!

"Man, Long John Silvers is cheap!" JonnyPantz said, perusing through his daily coupon clippings. He sat naked next to me in the lazyboy arm chair, save his pajama pants and t-shirt (and possibly boxer shorts? I dunno, the pj's were covering that area up). If there is one thing I can say about JonnyPantz, it's his love for coupon clipping. Annie has a similar love. She was voted Queen Bee of the Newspaper Clipping Society of Fourth Graders... mind you she was only in the first grade!!!! Trust me, this is only one of the reasons I knew of her greatness (I won't mention the countless thumb twirling competitions, her presidency of the Game Inventors of Chattanooga, or a certain high jump record). Anyway, between the two of these two close people in my life, I'm up to my armpit hairs in paper. With a clip clip here, a clip clip there, here a clip there a clip everywhere a clip clip

Old Man JonnyPantz

Just because ol' Mr. J Pantz can't take naps, he thinks that he can project his nambi pambi attitude on EVERYONE. By everyone, here, I mean me. "You're always asleep when I get home" he'll say, which really translates to, "I'm a damn ogre, and I didn't get to eat enough little kids at work today." Sometimes I lay in bed and I listen to Old Man JonnyPantz come home. I hear the metal clang of the door (slamming mind you) and the scruffy thuds of his loafers pounding against the carpet- step by step, until another slam! wooden this time, and I know he's in his room. He doesn't always go straight for his room, though. Sometimes he comes into my room, and watches me sleep. I know, trust me, I know. That's fine by me. At least then I know what he's doing. When he's in that dark room (dark because he never turns any lights on- he's kooky like that) I hear all sorts of weird noises... like he's building something in there. Yesterday I knocked to offer him some of the delicious pies I made, and I could hear him tearing at something... then the faint noise of a scream... a little goat scream. Today, before he got home from work, I went in to the lair. I tripped, of course, on the yards of wire he'd put in place to protect himself at night. What I saw in that room, what I witnessed in the back corner... well, I don't know... but I'm pretty sure I just shouldn't say anything. It's scary, though. It's scary. Anyhoo, I'm tired, I'm gonna go take a nap.

Not Awesome

I'll tell you what else is not awesome, being at the office and not knowing what the hell I'm doing: "not awesome". I'm supposed to be filing stuff, but Evan is in a "meeting" and can't tell me what to do next. I don't really think he knows what he's doing either. Jonnypantz readily admits he doesn't know what the hell he's doing. More people should be like JonnyPantz. Oh, PS. I'm going to be a Schmagnum Photographer. Don't believe me? Good. I'll show you. I'll show you all, hahahahaha. Oh, by the way: don't ever answer the question, "What's a Rim Job?" It never ends well. It never ends well. Oh,Oh,Oh,Oh, if you're looking to buy some overpriced flowers at Kathy's on Broad Street- they're closed now. So go somewhere else. Buyah!

That Electric Cowboy kind of Drunk

There I was, no I don't know how I got there, but I was there all the same. It was dark. Too dark to remember that I'd left the stove on. Too dark for me to see that maybe for once I wasn't alone in the world, and there might be a light at the end of the tunnel for me. Yeah, it was crazy, and yeah I was drunk from the six pack of O'Douls Andrew helped me slam before the sun went down, but I'll tell you this- I was there, I was really in there for a minute or two. The wind was cold, my fishnet stockings clung to my thighs like the filters of a thousand camels were sewn to my lips. I was naked from the chest up, a flowery looking fella had ripped my turtle neck in two places. Duble helped me loosen the strings to cut the neck loose. I've never been so lost. The only thing keeping me going was that I was going some place. A place better than the place that I'd come from. I didn't have a beard yet, and I was losing my hair earlier than expected, but it didn't matter: the place I was going didn't care about stuff like that. The place I was going laughed at things like when I was in first grade I cut that girls hair during craft time, or when I was 19 how I smothered that bum on a sidestreet in New York. It was all potatoes to them. After years of waiting, there I finally was. The Electric Cowboy. Expensive beer, a mechanical bull, and all the chubby waitresses in chaps I could feast my grubby little eyes on. We had a big time.

Ugh...

When am I going to quit smoking? I heard a rumor about this guy that said something about this other dude, but that wasn't totally true. I wish I could challenge the world's first taboo and try infant open heart surgery like Dr. Blalock did. I wouldn't make my assistant hide behind the ferns at the dinner of my honor. Dr. Blalock did that. What a jerk. If I'm not careful, I'll wind up on that operating table. The world doesn't know that I still have a baby heart. Now, if I had a mustache that would be one thing. If I had a mustache that would be just about everything. I'm not asking for a Sellek or an Elliott, but I need a friggin' bone here... I mean, what am I bringing to the table? I've got a Chester, a freakin' Chester the Molester. "Where'd you park the van?" is basically what the thin, weasley tuft screams underneath my nostrils. Anyway, I dunno. When am I going to quit smoking?