Pedophilia prompts penile pyrotechnics.

Probiotic Ro Ro Robotiotic Rubber Belly Insomniatic

Cherry Black Reads Her Hearth's Memoir: Fireside Chats with My Pal Pippi Cornpoppins

Pippi Cornpoppins roasted up nicely having sat for too long.

Chestnuts Broasting in a Pressure Cooker, Jack Frost Nibbling at Your Ears

THE NIBBLE: After receiving my own extravaganza, I decided that it was best to allow my contacts to conduct surveillance in regard to Sculpt. Here's what: according to my source, this guy likes Shemp as the best Stooge, and enjoys a good cup of coffee, as long as it isn't instant coffee. I was thinking that he was clean until the coffee thing. Everybody likes instant. Now, I dunno about this guy.

To know Sculpt is to love him. I find him amusing, unevolved, a bit paranoid and friendly to a fault. I too will never know the joy of having a coffee with him as I only drink tea.

LIES! I've never even been to the Internet!
I've switched to tea. But no instant!

Peanut Butter Plays a Solid Tune, Carver Wendel Homeless Blues.

Joan "Giblets" Tantoon attempted to become a member of the Qweef Club. The weekly meetings there conflicted with her Tuesday Evening Civil Club schedule. Joan had to choose. I liked to think that she could see her future. Then.

I am the last living Civil War veteran

The Future waits at No One's door, but opens up to those who listen with panting ears.

After being tried and convicted for making the worst coffee in town, Midge imagined a different fate. She considered an outcome in which she stood at the alter and married Hal from across the street. Everyone from Lynnwood to Fairhope would attend, and her canker wouldn't ooze. She gave these things some thought while she Q-tipped her ears.

The wood chuck would not chew wood by the cusp of Budd's chewy forest without filling the pit with amalgam.

Pindo Alvarez went through the sixth grade with me. He was the type of person who couldn’t be bothered. His Poppy was so affluent that when the Mummenschan arrived riding bareback on the Liebensteiner ponies, he was nonplussed. I thought I saw God just hearin’ about it. We were poor. We never saw ponies before. Pindo was a prick bastard. And then some.

Judith sashayed forward into another meaningless day. She tugged primly at her white gloves, stood for a minute and turned right. Judith had loftier expectations than what turning left could have offered. Today she was seeing her dentist, Budd.

When I had the fortune to be in in Judith's company, she allowed me to become privy to some minor details pertaining to her everyday existence. I came to understand that her tea cups were green and her ass was made of lemons. You could hear her all night when she spoke of food recipes and cement having been poured just down the street.

I had such a cute turn of words for this and i forgot it. #oldpeopleproblems

I went to excess with libations. I lost my way. Judith let me lay my head on her lap while I sobered-up. She pulled hard on her bourbon, and then whisper-talked so softly to me and said, "The umbilical, the parent, and the prom. The slice of the portion you had was blood-red in the urine from the brown in the flask. The angel comes with breast, breath, and that dream at last." Sometimes, angels come down.

Little droplets of bourbon-laced spit sporadically found their way upon his face...his eyes closed til quite unexpectly, out popped her freshly minted filling. Budd's handiwork landed where the eye meets the bridge of the nose and nestled there. Quite pretty really.

I couldn't lift my head. As she used vintage curse-words to refer to Budd in a fashion that stunned me in regard to her creative use of the art of vulgarity, she told me about the time she resigned her commission on the submarine. She went on to provide me with details of her stint as a librarian. It seems that she fell hard for the janitor there.

Vivian was a librarian consciously. But subconsciously she was fathoms below the surface, cruising moxie knots. Sometimes, when I would look over my deluxe Dewy Decimal card, to gaze at Vivian, I could see her eyes piercing through her mind-feel periscope.

The same window. The same seat at the kitchen table. The same coffee cup emptied of endless cups of coffee. I knew that if I waited long enough, it would have to come out of the cornfield.

Coffee became extinct after the last Peruvian ice shave last week. All coffee slurps are now made of maze, straight from the Iowan cornfields. Just add spoon.

Budd stopped by the corner diner to purchase his first coffee of the day. Budd had corncob teeth and whenever he smiled his creepy smile, Cora wanted to wretch. "For fuck's sake Budd, a toothbrush wouldnt go unloved."

We weren't going to extend all that... they got theirs, and we pay taxes, and they should have known better, they didn't get to be 600lbs by accidentally sipping someone else's cup at the party, you know what I mean? But if they can lose 25lbs is 30 days, then we can sacrifice some time and dough to show some love and save the life of a family member.

And then there was the time when everyone on Speer St. had ice cream cones which they held upside down and yelled into them. I hid then, too. I like to blame it on Budd.

If you were an icecream cone, first I would tell your parents. Then I would put you in the freezer, to keep you from... to keep you from... from melting. But being to the freezer wouldn't keep you from being eaten. But that might be the least of your problems. You'd be in the most horrible state of isolation. No lights, no one to talk to... you can't even move. I think you might want to try... melting. It's another state. Don't be afraid. Forty thousand cones and cups every day. More cowbell.

The shoes that my soul is wearing are being held on by duct tape. My middle parts all feel like they are sinking inside. I found a phone booth with coins on the floor in the urine. This is my best night. Her number is part of my brainstem. If the deities are with me, she'll answer the phone.

Her kitchen and the Pyrex collection. The harvest wheat and the green. The short sun coughs behind the grey. The Pyrex again, and there's one making thick coffee on the counter-top. This has the same odor as a tape recorder and god's bicycle horn. I've applied a little bauxite behind the ears. There is a smell of aluminum while a man with a speech impediment is putting siding on the house. I'll hide again.

Borax bleach kills mice and chickletts dead. Don't ape, pipe or cash with Coronet paper plate users. Orville, the name you trust. It's the land before time forgot.

The depths of the earth broke open, releasing the waters of the deep, sweeping a wall of ocean across the electricity machine of humankind. It steamed, it seeped, it spewed radiation into the air, glucked grainey globs on the farms, stained the houses and saturated the suchi. But man discovered the egg, his neighbors and the flame of the candle.

After pushing B14 ,Stortch Pandoon kicked the juker in 'Jack's by the Tracks Lounge' in West Newton, Pa. on Cristmas Eve 1961. "Good-bye My Fancy", by Stinch and the Stained came up. Stortch asked Pat to turn up the volume, a request with which she had come to harbor disdain. "My tits for someone to not ask me for something.", she would often say. B14. I guess we shouldn't push that button.

Enter the 'Who Qweefed on the Holiday?' contest below. Winners will be announced at a later date.

I think it was the christmas tree.

The loam was sinuous with blood stains. So I went in there and sinned. Like everyone else, I had heard of the legend of Sasha Bobby and his Swiss Army Enema Bag with its listed 57 uses ."Both professional and amateur usage." is allegedly written in the accompanying brochure. Sasha Bobby..., he had an enema bag. Who knew?

Stoon Palipz took a hard pull on his Scotch and water. He was trying to find some comfort from the bottle and forget about that Christmas night in 1989. The snow was doing the big flake thing then, all dancing around the street lights like small ships in a storm out at sea. He stared into the morass of imitators of stars against the street lights. Stoon waxed all philosophical as 'Whore Masters in Space' starring John Agar was screened on WIIC. "I can still remember that night in Venice when I held Topo Gigio for ransom.", he said to his fifth wife Gladys. "My dreams need me more than I need my dreams.", she responded. " Now go to sleep."

Twinbags Colombo courted the elegant Jackie Molasses in hopes of sailing the ocean blue on the Pinto Marie to find the rumored homeland of the Spicey People.

What the Lino Says Back to Me at 3:00 AM

Overheard at Shemmie’s aka (There's Something in Your Bluebird)

Spee Ungle swore to me that he overheard elements of a conversation that would titillate and amuse. I was annoyed by the globs of sweat on his forehead as he informed, “I slept like a dog last night.”

He hoisted his pilsner to his lips as I provided a rejoinder. “You’re saying that you were sleeping all lonesome and afraid with a relentless hard-on. Cryssakes, Spee. I can remember when your words could still talk, and now you’ve come to this. It’s' log', not 'dog', you fuck. By the way, some passersby were heard saying things about you and the corsair.”

Spee pulled up some spine and opined with his breath and his lips and his pieces-of-corn teeth. All too close and rubbing up against he said,

“The corsair and the whispering mad-house effect, and then they tell ya that ya gotta go. She never thought. She never remembered my time in the whispering place. For the love of all that is holy, my mind allots too much time to itself. No thinking is better. Heart is better. Life will always chase itself like the puppy and her tail.”

I pulled hard into my toasted cheese on wheat and considered casket linings for the rich