Saturday, May 31, 2008


Why? Why does gas have to be so high? Oh, why do I have to be that
guy? Why do things always seem to rhyme? Why don't I have better eyes?

Stargate S..X.(83)

when I was in college, i thought it would be cool to get Valentines for a certain girl.
I bought a box of Stargate cards, the oldschool kind you'd get 9or not) in school? And signed each one with a different message and droped them off.
of course this didn't go over well.
somewhere outhere, i swear, there has to be a girl that will appreciate this effort.


I had a bunk bed for more than 10 years of my life.  And I was an only child.  What kind of monster makes their child sleep on the bottom bunk of a bunk bed when there’s no chance of anyone else sleeping on the top bunk?  No siblings, no friends.  Nobody.  Years and years of staring up at the springs and random boards holding the bottom side of the top bunk together.  I can count on one hand the number of friends who actually slept over.  The last one being Ron Doogan, who actually fell off of the top bunk in his sleep.  Word got around the school and from then on, there were no takers. 

“The Best of Ray Stevens” would play on my ladybug-shaped record player on certain nights as I stared up at the springs, shift my eyes over to the sad NFL curtains my mother had picked out, who desperately hoped I wouldn’t wind up a fag because of my lack of a father figure, and wonder what it was like to have a brother.


Friday, May 30, 2008


I wish I could go to ninja school. I would learn to jump, flip and chop!

My food!


i can hear the sounds of Harry Potter's score outside. there is a concert in the park- a very gay concert.
it doesn't work the way it's spposed to. i'll never overhear the score to Housekeeping or andything by Kamen or Brion.
free music sucks balls.


His blood sugar was low.  He could feel the cold sweat bubbling under his character’s hat as the spotlight glazed his face.


The character of “The Lieutenant” was supposed to be a bit of a nut, so the switching of an occasional line here and there or a random stutter wasn’t completely out of place or out of character.  But the monologue – his very first appearance in the play – was when it all went wrong.  Balloons never went up this far.


Other actors on stage stood stunned, their minds jumping ahead, trying to flip the pages of scripts in their memories to salvage the first act.  Never happened.


It was a wholly different animal now that “The Lieutenant,” the only character to drive the show, had gone up.  It was like an experiment, some theatre of the absurd.  An actor on acid trying to plug along even though his words were coming out slow and seemingly in another language.


And the audience never even noticed.


Thursday, May 29, 2008

b lood?

"… and the blood of the wicked shall flow through the streets! Their
… Oh hi children I did not see you come in."

"I was just telling the good people on the other end of the TV that
they are loved. They are loved, and the wicked will be punished."

A small boy in front waves his hands and asks, "What if you have only
been a little bad?"

"Your blood will flow, next?"

I got my ticket!~(85)

"how is this going to work?", he asked and stepped towards the front of the group.
"well, we'll take volunteers and those brave men will go"
it seems stupid to me" another voice chimes from the group.
"there is no reason we can't just find fredom right here!"
"we can just do with what we have for now" another voice said
"There is no freedom here!" I said, and looked around the crowd.
"how many of you are prepared to continue to work for nothing? work yoou fingers to the bone and watch your fellow man and your children die inthose fields?"
"There is only one anser. and you know what it is!"
I turned towards my wife and our baby and walked towards the ship.
"I'm fixin' to go to mars! Any of you niggas with me?"

J'mel davidson presents Denzel Washington in "Black Mission to Mars"


                White gates.  From the vantage point of the Explorer on the East Bank, it was obvious that the place was decked out, $10 million on the low end.  Basketball court, pool, servant’s quarters fashioned out of the stables.  “Lush” wouldn’t even come close to describe the place.

            Explorer headlights blinked twice.  Blanco and Umbra were over the gates so fast in the warm night, it was like it never even happened.  Perimeter lights clicked on, shining a stinging glare onto the gazebo.  The sprinkler system started up.

            Bellropes and Hula hit the main power line and that’s when it got scary.  The whole place immediately lit up like the 4th of July with ultralight.  Power course from the outside had trumped us.

            Explorer headlights blinked twice again.  A pack of dogs screamed at the guys in the perimeter, who froze once the ultralight hit them.  Blanco and Bellropes never made it out of there.  God only knowns what happened.  Haven’t heard from them since.

            Hula got ripped up something awful from the dogs and Umbra took one for the team when several thugs came along and beat him down with retractable clubs.

            All we wanted was our ball back.


Wednesday, May 28, 2008


I need a new dryer. My sister gave it to me, and I believe that my
older sister gave it to her before that. It has a pretty severe case
of lent trap goblins. You know those little bastards that steal your
socks? Yep, the very same. Most driers have them, but they house small
single LTGs. I guess since this is an older dryer the LTGs had time to
get real comfortable, have some kids and decide to move up to larger
articles of clothing. Amberly says she has some shirts missing. I
called Orkin and they just laughed.

Help! If anybody knows how to get rid of these pests send me an email. Please!

Strpkes (86)

i jkeeps happening.there is no real answer why
people thinktey have answers and offer thgem.
they are all wrog.
at the end of the day, iu just want my rifht yand back.
i just want my right ha nd hback...


The kids of the F+ Crew hung out and smoked near the Jack Horner Subs drive-thru.  They each held a Jack Horner cup, which they dumped liberal amounts of Nighthawk whiskey into.  This was as much of a tribute as they could muster. 

Cheri blew smoke from her mouth between sips.  The silver smoke sifted back into her tight poodle perm.  Of the whole Crew, she was hit the hardest. 

A news copter fluttered overhead and Rim Dawg make it his business to flip them off as a Cadet cigarette dangled from his lip.  He shoved his pants down lower as he passed the Cadet over to Darbs.

Darbs had all the charm of a snakepit and the element of a fallen leader hadn’t helped any.  She loathed Rim Dawg, but took the cigarette anyway.  Darbs ignored the chpper overhead and cut in front of an oncoming car to slip over to the drive-thru window.  She pulled a spray paint can from the pocket of her Bye-Bye Bunny hoodie.  Cheri and Rim Dawg seemed unphased as Darbs tagged “F+” on the window.  She dropped the can into a Jack Horner dumpster on the way back to meet up with the other F+’s.  She’d been seen doing it, but she didn’t care.

Their leader was in a hospital somewhere and jail couldn’t be nearly as bad as not being able to go see T-Roy.



Kid Adventures

"Pit, throw me the amulet!" Angela yelled across the chasm.
"No! I can make the jump!" Pit yelled back. He took two steps
backward and shot forward. Just as his foot left the ledge, the
snipers opened fire again. One of the shots caught him in the
shoulder, and it spun him around.
Angela screeched, and reached for her kid brother. She always thought
of him as her kid brother even though she was only ten minutes older.
"I got you," she called out. She pulled him up and started patting his
jacket where she saw him take the bullet asking, "How bad is it?
"Not bad at all," he said as he slid the amulet out of his jacket
pocket that had a slug attached to its side. "Let's go save Granpa!"

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

the unanswerable question (87)

I bought a Kangol. it doesn't look as cool as i remembered.
my radio is so big, and covere with lights.
i have everything i could ever want on cassette tape.
my adidas are the whitest in the hood.
so why, why i ask, is this war in iraq not over?


What’s this button do?

Red Razor’s personal signal beacon.  Don’t ever press that.

Why not?

‘Cause he’s a stone, cold prick, that’s why not.

What if we need him?

We don’t ever really need him.  He’s part of the old guard of the Freedom Committee.  He just shows up when he wants.

Then why is this button here then?

Why are Cheezits better than Cheese Nips?  Don’t ask why!  Just because.

I just don’t get why you’d have a button . . .

Look, rookie, you’re on monitor duty because you don’t know high-ditty shit about crimefighting yet, okay?  And being as such, there’s a few things you’ll learn along the way.  Don’t ever ask Silver Rocket about Silver Maiden.  Don’t even think about teaming up with the Lemming when you’re up against the Army of Evil.  And don’t, under any circumstances, press that Goddamned button, you understand?

Yeah.  Okay.

Great.  Any other questions?

Um . . . what does this other button do?

You know what, don’t press that one either.

Why not?

Oh, God, I need a scotch.  You want anything?

A scotch?  It’s not even noon.

Great.  You get a Tab then.


Monday, May 26, 2008

is Bananas!

I taught my monkey to fetch me bananas once. Problem was he hated
using a debit card and insisted on using cash only.

I tell you he was crazy.

versuchen und Ziel für die Meisen (88)

okay, walk over and sit on the couch.
don't look at the camera!
alright, help him with his pants, honey.
that's good.
now, while she's doing that, rub her tits.
right, now help her with her glasses and girdle.
don't be so stiff! you're supposed to like-
don't look at the camera!
okay, you can get hard now. whenever you're ready.
alright, honey, don't just lay there. show some enthusiasm!
no, don't take off you gym socks. that's sexy. okay, now smack her ass.
alright, freeze for a photograph.
don't look at the camera!
ja. das is gut.
das is gut.


That little boy in that jutted spread of naked trees is up to something.  He keeps pulling that hood over his face and opening up his coat to make himself look bigger.  Those gestures he’s making with his arms are strange.  Like some kind of ritual, slow motion and slightly choreographed.  He speaks to someone that isn’t there rather convincingly, even waiting for the absent friend to respond to his questioning.  It’s as if that little boy is the only person that exists in the universe.  I stare so long and so intently, I’m convinced that if he turns and notices me, that would be it.  Nothing would exist.  His concentration broken.  We all happen to be in the order we’re in – separate lives, ballgames, cell phones, late-night news, beaded curtains – thanks to the power of his imagination.  Everything here was put here by him.  In exactly the right spot and order.  One look away could destroy trillions of lifetimes.  Everything he’s created.


Well, I can’t take it.  I’m going to yell at him.


Sunday, May 25, 2008

The Love Bug

I saw Herbie broken down on the side of the interstate today. He had
his hood up and a guy was attempting to jump him off. I kept thinking
that it was like hooking a body up to a defibrillator. He was shocked
once as I sped by. I don't know if they got him to work or not.


I'm the new action figure that yo daddy didn't get you.
I stole your bike, so i'm the reason that he hit you.
i'm the reason your girl didn't scream the first time,
you thought you were the first to get in that behind.
i'm the lucky number ticket Fred sold to Lamont
I'm the other brother Daryl from that inn in vermont
i'm the one that suggested the random drug srceening
and i'm the one tht called the cops when i heard your wife screamin'
cause you lost you job, cause you couldn't compete
cause your rhymes are so weak and you got no beat
i'm mister whitendale tearing up your lease
i'm the little old lady asking where's the beef
i'm that fucka in the alley that you never see coming,
taking care of orphaned niggas like my name was mister Drummond


Rain’s coming, they say.  I don’t believe it.  None of us do.  The Admiral gave up hope long ago.  He’s on suicide watch.  Claims a ghost keeps appearing to him on the bow of the ship.  Keeps saying it’s the Captain who leapt from the starboard side hundreds of miles back. 

The crew looks to me for advice.  “What more can we do,” I ask them.  “We keep sailing.”  I don’t know what else to say. 

Mutiny’s not far off.  I can taste it in the prevailing winds.  It’s coming, along with the rain and the ghosts.


Saturday, May 24, 2008

Danger Squad

It was a game we use to play as kids. Danger Squad! We would make
bows and arrows out of sticks and twine. Hunting in the woods for bad
guys was a good way to pass the time when you are eight. It was all
fun and games until Timmy unearthed Wolfman Jack and The Mummy, I
think his real name was Tut or something along those lines.
We had vanquished both of them individually, but together we felt
they were unstoppable. Unstoppable until Timmy's cross dressing
cousin came out to play. He told us we could call him Paula and he had
Nair and a hairspray can blowtorch we could use.
After the battle, Paula fixed everybody's hair and made cookies for
everybody. It was the best Danger Squad adventure all summer!

Universe Altering Event (90)

Star power.
that's what they called it. he was able to walk into any room and dazzle the lot in minutes. he was effortless. he was just a guy with a really great personality and a gun.

she had it. all the boys loved her. how could they resist? all her friends were gay, but not in an over effeminate way.

that's how he made you feel. it didn't matter how bad you thought you Day was,after he engaged you and old you the news, you had a great life forever and ever.

they were all reliant. they never let anyone down. that's why i hated them.

this was how it all ended. this was how it all ended. this was how it all ended...


What’re you watchin’?

Playboy Channel.

Why are you watchin’ that shit, that softcore crap?  When you’ve got all that porn I gave you.  All those 8-hour, all-sex, full-penetration DVDs I threw your way!  And all you wanna’ do is watch this fluff?  The Playboy Channel?

I’m scaling back.

Son, you’re adopted.


Friday, May 23, 2008

Pretty Pretty Princess Poolside Tea Party!

Jessica just loved the Pretty Pretty Princess Poolside Tea Party play
set her mom got her. It was the best. It had everything from the TV
show! There was a tiara, a portable pool, a dress, and of course the
Magical Tea Set!
The Magical Tea Set was most important piece. Once she placed her
tiara on her head and wore her Pretty Pretty Princess dress, she could
fill the pool up with water. Once the pool was full, a small dose of
red food coloring will do in place of blood. Blood is so hard to come
by when you are eight. She settled down poolside with her Magical Tea
Set, and called forth to the dark beings that live beyond the black
corners of space. Their chariots of bone, blood, and fire tore across
the sky spewing ash, soot, and broken dreams into the children below.

Jessica laughed with glee. The Unpronounceable stepped down from his
smoldering chariot, knelt on one knee, and asked her bidding with a
guttural growl more felt than heard. Soot was getting caught in her
hair, but paid it no mind. She had seen Pretty Pretty Princess
Poolside Tea Party enough she knew what to do next. Dipping her cup
into the dark red water of the pool, she offered it to The
Unpronounceable. As the interdimensional being finished his blood tea,
she told what she needed him to accomplish. It never said a word, just
one nod of acceptance. It climbed aboard its chariot of doom leaving
only scorched earth behind.

Jessica laughed again knowing that Susan would never wear the same
thing she had worn again. She quickly looked at her watch, and
realizing that Pretty Pretty Princess Poolside Tea Party was about to
come on TV, she ran quickly inside to make sure she never missed a


the devil beat his wife today.
3o minutes.
i stared and watched as people ran.
it didn't cool off the way i thought that it would,
and there is no way they're going to fix my A.C.
over the long weekend.


She’s thinner than I remember.  Jesus, talk about the last person I expected to see at this neighborhood garage sale.  And seeing her in that state.  God, she looks good.  Better than she ever looked with me/  And she’s with that ultra-hipster guy.  Is that one of those ethnic-looking wads from the “band” she keeps texting me about?  Like we’re still dating or even friends anymore.  Hate to be the dick, sweetheart, but you dumped me.  Stop texting me and inviting me to parties.  Jesus, I hope she doesn’t see me.  Ah, good.  Keep walking your unhealthy, skinny ass up the sidewalk.  What is that guy anyway?  Is he black or Somali?  Indian?  Shit, I can’t peg him.  Well, the one thing I don’t want is to be introduced to a guy who’s outwardly cooler than me.  Here I am wearing almost the exact same shit I wore when she kicked me out and he’s all black jeans, badass jacket.  I can hear the conversation they have after we meet. 

“You went out with that guy?” he’d say.
“Yeah, that’s him,” she’d reply.
“Fuck, you were slumming, baby.  Let’s go back to my place for a marathon sex session so I can wash him out of your mind.”

They probably screw constantly.  And that's why she's with him and not with me.  Thank God. 


Thursday, May 22, 2008

Anybody down for ribs?

The butcher smiled slightly as he reached for his cleaver. It was
beautiful. The blade and handle were balanced perfectly, and with a
weight just over five pounds it had just the perfect heft to it. He
had sharpened it maybe five minutes ago, and the edge sparkled. The
side of ribs on the counter called to the cleaver. They wanted, no
needed to be one with each other, he told himself. A slight grin crept
onto his face as he said, "Nice to meat you!" He laughed. He laughed
so much he wet himself. Several minutes passed before he could regain
control of his body. Once he did he brought the cleaver up, giggled
slightly, and the cleaver came down with a solid thwack!

I hate sex and the city #1 (92)

you want to see the sex and the city movie?

i'd rather see Louie anderson blow little richard.

well I... Hell, so would i!

to the holodeck!


Waves and waves of our best men, gone.
Into the bloody breech. 
We trained them for months, armed them to the teeth. 
Every sick, sick mode of killing at their disposal.

We never counted on the enemy using such a large hammer.


Wednesday, May 21, 2008

who is hungry?

"What about the price of meat?"

"It is going through the roof."

"What does that mean for me? I couldn't give two cares if the price of
meat goes up."

"You'll care when they come for you in your sleep. Human meat is
cheaper than cow meat now."


there is a wastepaper basket and a trash can. please do not put any trash in the wastepaper basket. you may put waste paper in the trash can, though. as, all waste paper is trash it stands that not all trash is not waste paper. as a matter of fact, id just prefer that you kept them separate so as not to confuse yourself in the future. if you were to make a mistake and put trash in the waste paper basket, it would leak because the waste paper basket is only designed to handle waste paper, not liquids of perishables, or other common forms of trash. this is why there is a trash can. it has a lid and a trash liner- in case of trash water. no one wants to step into trash water.


¼ teaspoon of Vodka

½ cup of Moon dust

¾ lbs. ground chuck

A dash of peppermint Schnapps

Five camel hairs

40 oz. of sunbeams

The crushed remains of 2 laserdisc players

14 tablespoons of absinthe

Shavings of the Animotion cassette single “Obsession”

A cube of manna

A pinch of sea salt

Liberal amounts of moxie

One 10,000 year old egg


Serve cold in 2 ft. tall glasses.
Serves seven.
Dispose of bodies carefully due to toxic content.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008


"What do you mean the price of stamps went up again? I have so many
twenty-six cent stamps left over. What should I do with them?"

"Look, I can put them on a box!"


stop crying.
i killed you because i love you.
i killed you because i couldn't solve your mothers murder,
and eveeryone knows that ghosts have special crime sloving skills.
so please, stop crying and rattling your chains...


I wish being a detective in Steelville was half as interesting as what they print in the comic books or the shows on TV.  I don’t wear a long-black trenchcoat, I don’t smoke, I don’t have a cool haircut or some special gadgets. 

All I do is track these faggots down when one of them fucks up.  And when you’re dealing with superheroes, that’s more often than you’d think. 

Case in point.  We found Silver Maiden hung from a noose yesterday.  Last weekend, three of the Liberteens were the main suspects in an arson case.  Weekend before that, one of King Midas’ solid gold .45s was found at the scene of the murder of a retired villain who used to go by the handle Cloudmaster. 

Goddammit, I wish all the good guys would just stay that way.


Monday, May 19, 2008

I loved that game.

Ever thought about Mega Man? What makes him so Mega anyways?

He looks like a little kid to me.

I am just saying.

No moral (95)

they wanted an answer for all of the death, but they weren't getting it
they were confused and isolated, and it turned to fear.
that fear quickly turned to rage.
they blamed the man in the long rubber gloves and the lab coat. the one that looked like the sort of guy that would create a monster.
if anyone had done this, it was him.

but you see, he was only wearing a costume.
he was supposed to go to a parrty that evening.

but the crowd didn't care. they needed a sacrifice.
they tossed him to the thing.

the thing gave him powers, and he killed everyone in the mob.


Take a man’s possessions.  Box them up.  Pack the delicate thoughts in newspaper so they don’t break.  Hang all of his daily costumes on wire hangers.  Pay the movers to take away his weaknesses, but give them wrong address to his new place. 

Leave the place as you found it.  Clean it thoroughly.  Put on a new coat of paint.  Air it out. 

Try and leave one tiny part of him in the place.  Something of his that won’t be missed, that he can hide for the next person to find.  

Don’t ever go back.


Sunday, May 18, 2008

Another one?

Hey, I heard they were making a few Fast and Furious movie.

What do you think they will call it?

Vin Diesel needs a new paycheck?


Forever, Hitler* (96)

His mother named him Hitler to show that even people with unfortunate names can be good people.
he was a bit slow, slightly retarded, but he made up for it with his natural curiosity and thirst for knowledge.
he managed to stumble through many of histories great moments, but not really in a good way...
uh um...challenger explosion.
and he could never manage to convince his true love, Amy, to trully be his.
but at the end of his long journey, Hitler Jones was happy with his life. happy with the friends he'd made, happy with the things he'd seen, and happy that a slightly retarded boy named Hitler from rural Alabama was able to claimso many girls anal virginity.

*i do not apologize for this story...


"Sir, we are getting over run!"

"Jackson, shut up and buckle down we can make it."

"But sir, they are everywhere. Aren't you scared?"

He looks around at the chaos, and says, "Yes, I am, but they can smell fear."

"Sir, I don't want to baby sit ever again."


1]  Always wear black (or some color very close to black).

2]  Never wear black without the “blue” (Selsun Blue).

3]  Boots are preferred (either cowboy or combat).

4]  Never run ANYWHERE.  And calculate every step of your walk.

5]  Grow a mustache.

6]  Never smile unless it only masks something sick as shit.  If it percolates into laughter, overdo it.

7]  Smoke always (and find a cool way to flick the butt when done).

8]  When you stare, don’t open your eyes too wide (like you’re almost squinting in order to see something far away).

9]  Never raise your voice.

10]  Stab anyone who makes fun of you as you integrate 1-9.


Saturday, May 17, 2008

the weight (97)

having a woman yell "fuck me' at you in the heat of passion is not nearly as sexy or hot as you want to think it will be.
chances are, you probably weren't even prepared to fuck. you probably just wanted to bring her off with your mouth, and call it a night. you prabably had to get up early. but now? what are you suppoded to do? NOT fuck her? now you have to. you have to or you'll never hear the end of the passive aggressive silence of her never mrntioning it.
not you have to put it down like Peter North.
tonight, you need formula X-9...


Mayor Ken Koogler spent most of his term wearing a Mexican wrestler mask.  He called it a tribute to the Latino community of the town.  Most of the people didn’t buy.  Especially the Latinos.  After he was ousted, videotapes were carefully analyzed.  It was discovered that most press conferences were actually attended by his younger brother, Skip, wearing the mask.  Unbelievable that no one noticed before. 

Construction on the domed stadium, the racetrack and the mega-casino/waterpark had already started by the time he’d been run out of town.  All the nutball ideas that somehow got passed through after he’d disappeared got traced back to decisions that Skip had actually made.  Which begged the question, “Would the building of the world’s largest mini-golf course continue even though it was approved by a government official that was never elected?” 

The answer to that question is as sad as you think it would be.


Friday, May 16, 2008

Tinkerbell the Pimp

Tinkerbell wasn't really Peter Pan's fairy dust companion. She was his pimp.

Tin roof...(98)

So, which one is it?
does love rule, or should fools stay away?
You know what? forget it!
Fuck you, and your "love" shack


I can’t believe they abandoned the church.  I’d hear their choir rehearsals every day, blaring, keeping me up.
So many people stuffed into that place.  It was almost obscene, in a religious way.
Now it’s been gutted.
The sprawling church bus’s wheels are all flat and it’s been tagged so many times.  The only thing visible is the cross on the front.
Before they left, their last gesture was to ram the weather-worn wood trailer into the fence, sending it sideways. 
I guess that’s how the taggers got in.


Thursday, May 15, 2008

The Man

So team, I brought you all here today to experience the joy that is
working for "The Man".

The Man has a bad rap. People say he keeps them down. I say, they
keep themselves down. The Man is here to help. The Man keeps you on
the right track. The Man keeps you from doing something stupid you
WILL regret in the morning.

You say The Man mucks up everything. I say, he is doing his best to
make it right. The Man fights for the little guy. The Man extends a
hand of friendship to those in need. The Man kisses babies. The Man
helps little old ladies across the street. The Man helps you build
your pinewood derby car. The Man talks to the cute girl in math class
for you. The Man makes the ladies feel alright.

I love The Man, and he loves me.


Werre entering double digits.

what does that mean, exactly?
well, it coud be spectacular or it could spell doom for all of us.

well, don't you think you should figure out which is which?

all i know is that soon all of this will be over. soon, no one will remember any of the great things we've done here. we won't make any history books- it's all just been an excercise in-

-not futility.

not quite.

but, we'll remember, right?

sure kid. we'll remember.

than i'm okay. let's get some sleep.



Large, oversized button
computer on the wall. 

This is
the future. 

No more shrink-
ing of technology.  Everything


Wednesday, May 14, 2008

How to teach a child to sleuth.

Step 1: Get those kids in the middle of mysteries.

There aren't any mysteries on the Internet. Get them out of the house.

Step 2: Encourage creative thought.

Give them a rubrics cube, teach them chess, have them learn the dewy
decibel system, knot tying, Morse code, and juggling.

Step 3: Weapons training.

Nun chucks, pocketknives, pistols, and paint cans can all be used as weapons.

Step 4: Stop crime!


i told ther that we should have dinner out tonight. it was a surprise to her. she asked where we were going, and i told her to choose because i knew that she wouldn't. this allowed me to take her to our favorite Thai spot.
i order a bottle of wine- the same wine we'd shared when we first met.
we bot shared an order of wasabi shumai, and i had the tofu steak. she had the pad thai.
when it was all over, we shared a serving of red bean ice cream.
as we drove home, i pulled past the house we'd decided would one day be ours. we sat there for almost an hour...


He hated breaking it off with her.  He’d never been the dumper.  The dumpee, sure, but never the dumper. 

It was raining that day.  And they were in his car.  No escape, even in the driver’s seat.  He hadn’t really planned it out either.  It wasn’t like there was any process behind it, but in retrospect he could’ve at least thought ahead.  Maybe it would’ve been easier at a bus stop or some busy street that he could run away from her on.  And the circumstance of not only breaking up with her, but also trying to get her out of the car and into the downpour just made him feel like more of a prick.

He was a prick.

Now when it rains on an afternoon and he spies a curly-headed brunette, he tries to imagine the various scenarios that would’ve made it easier. 



Mr. Fat Money Stacks sat in his vault counting pennies. He counted
pennies because it took longer, and the pennies made his money stacks
one hundred times larger.

He was a dick, too. He always picked up a homeless veteran on the way
home to make them watch him count his money. He is a big dick.

Tuesday, May 13, 2008


I have written about heroes and villains and aliens and robots.
Zombies and moonsters and ghosts.
I've told small tales about good women, bad women, honorable men, and bastards.
Porn and food and life and death and all in between.
Strange places that don't exist, and old places that only exist in my memory.
i've talked about lots of things, but i have never talked about [DELETED]


This mask is sprayed on.  A polykevlar mist that comes in a can.  Manufactured by the Vires Corporation.  You’ll notice that it’s ultra-thin.  It breathes.  Doesn’t clog the pores.  Pretty revolutionary.  Couldn’t save him from that fall though.  Rip the mask off or keep it on.  Doesn’t matter.  I’m betting the farm on the fact that it’s Vires under there.  As if Vires and Obscurion being the same person was that big of a surprise.  Made a mint on this stupid mask spray.  Why would you want to play crimefighter if you were that rich?  Fucking idiot.




Monday, May 12, 2008

ummm yeah.

Hey I love your idea! Let me steal it, and make it crappier!




she gave away my greenday Dookie shirt, and she gave away my Butthole Surfer shirt. i think that she was worried that it was less about buttholes that surfed and more about people surfing buttholes.
anyway, i loved that shirt. i had a cowgirl riding a motor.
i miss that shirt.


She’s a plump girl.

Turkeys are plump, Dutchy boy.  She is fat.

Aw, that’s not nice.

But is it true?  That’s the thing.  Is it true?

Yeah, I guess.  I just wish you weren’t so cold all the time.

I’m cold because you can’t be.  You need me.

I don’t need you.

Oh, you need me.  You’re not aware of how much you need me, but it’ll be clear as a bell soon enough.

Look, don’t talk to me right now, alright?  I’m trying to concentrate.

Yeah.  You’re going to concentrate your way into another fat girl you’ll regret talking to.

Just shut up.  Please.

Whatever you say, my friend.

Alright.  I’m going over there.

Why are you still talking to me?  Do it or don’t do it.  Don’t expect me to encourage this.

Shut up.

Okay, okay.  But I might not be here the next time.





Sunday, May 11, 2008

Mother/ Daughter Time

Sarah turned to her mother and asked, "Mom, where do babies come from?"

Her mother, a little thrown off by the question, shifts her weight on
the end of the bed, and replies, "A special place."

"I know you told me that before, but I want to know about this special place."

Her mother strokes a long talon across her daughter's head and says,
"Well, usually when we find a lost human we take him down to the egg
chamber. Then some magic happens. I will fill you in on those details
when you are older, but anyway seventy two hours later out you popped
from his chest!"

"Eww gross!"

"I know dear. It doesn't sound like much, but it is a magical time.
Now it is time for you to go to bed."


i did everything i could to save your mother, but they were too-

did you try to fight them and rescue her?

-no. If i had, we'd both be dead.

then, you didn't do everything.

well, i did as much as i could do without being bitten by a rage infected limey! now, go to sleep and shut up! In that order!


                     The kumodu will be pulled taut from the base of the girl’s spine.  It should pull out a full 14 inches before it begins to speak.  It might say a few garbled sounds while you’re tugging at its umbilical, but ignore these noises.  What it says fully retracted will be the most important thing.  If it says something about your future, write it down on rice paper, memorize it and bury it beneath Tiger House.  If it speaks of the past, you must kill the girl.

            Kumodu does not lie.  But the past is not to be heeded.  If it speaks of past things and you do not kill her, a thousand doves will choke the river and dishonor will plague Tiger House for a hundred years.

            Kumodu has eyes beyond our world.




Saturday, May 10, 2008


Motherfucker? I've never understood that. Why would anyone ever want to do that to a mother? Mother's are nice...

Uh- I think the point is... nevermind.


Squarejaw, purpleheadcase.  Vaseline
Band up river.

Fire escapes the fire escape.  Petrol bomb

Bag of crisps hit pavement.  Ticket to
the abattoir.

Jury-rigged, clapping mob.  Click track
for the funeral.

Naked noose, flowergun.

Nature makes us fools.

Baldy Frenchy, poodin’ pop.

Beaver shot next autumn.

Cruel duchess, hard revine.

We all up the ante.She dolled up in panties.

Lee called up the pantry.Bee walked up the hangtree.





Friday, May 9, 2008



"Yes sir?"

"What am I doing wrong?"

"Nothing sir."

"Oh, Ok never mind, oh yeah, I do have a question."

"What is it sir?"

"Does this rifle make my but look fat?"


For your birthday, I’m jumping out of a giant cake wearing that outfit you always like to see me in:  nothing.  Butt-naked, junk hanging out and swinging in the cakey breeze.  And I’ll sing a special birthday song just for you.  Something by Duran Duran, but with lyrics specially tailored to celebrate your birthday.  I’m thinking the chorus to “Hungry Like the Wolf” reworked as something like, “(Aren’t you) Glad I’m not gay / What more can I say? / It’s your 35th birth-DAAAAAAY!”  Okay, I’m still working on that, but me jumping out of that cake, naked?  That’s a sure thing.  And I’ll serve everybody cake while I’m standing in it.  It’ll be spectacular.  Oh, but then I’d have to have a place to shower off.  And I don’t think they have showers at the race track.  Oh, we’re having your birthday at the track.  Did I mention that part?  So, maybe the naked cake thing wouldn’t work. 

I don’t know.  I might just get you a card.




Thursday, May 8, 2008

Firecracker of Love

I remember it so fondly, men riding dinosaurs. It was beautiful. That
is until I learned about firecrackers.


Jimmy Snapps, Jr. was the only darkie in the Sin Embargo.


Mister Zevin, can we stay away from racial slurs, please?


Do you want me to tell it like it was or sugar-coat it for kids?  Are you writing a children’s book on these guys?  Or is this for adults?  Because there’s a lot of this shit that’s not going to wash.  I can tell you that right now!


I’m sorry, Mister Zevin.  Please go on.


You asked me about Snapps.




And I’ll tell you.  Back in the heyday, Snapps didn’t give a flying fuck about being called “darkie.” We got him into the white clubs, the white bathrooms, the white everything.  He was treated as an equal because he was in our eyes, regardless of what the fuck you called him.


Yes, I see.  Please continue.


Out of the whole pack of guys we swung with, Jimmy was the most real.  He has a lot of humility on him, being the only darkie and all.  And when he sang, it was like the whole world stopped turning.  You ever heard of that chink joint in Hoboken?  Bon Quo’s?


Um, yes.  I think I know the place.


Well, we took Jimmy there one night for his birthday.  He didn’t know what we were going to do.  We dress up like a bunch of Chinese laundrymen and serve him whatever he wanted all night.  Then we had to split because we had a shindig at the Cloud Palace.  But, I tell you, Bon Quo’s was the show that night.


Can you tell me a little about your relationship with the rest of the guys in Sin Embargo?


Naw.  They’re all dead to me.  All of them but Snapps.





The interview

"I can do it," He replied with complete confidence.

"How about with the flowers in a," She started.

He interrupted with, "Lady, I can do anything. All you gotta do is
tell me what you want, and I make it happen."

"Wow!" She sat back all blown away. During the whole interview
process no one had possessed that level of confidence in their work.

"Well, do I get the job?" he asked with a smirk on his face.

"Yes, yes you do. The mop is down the hall, and the toilet brushes
are always kept on the right side of toilet."

"My right or the toilet's?"


Wednesday, May 7, 2008

You don' t tell ME how to haiku! (106)

beat an elf to death
Awesome analingus
Hell is line dancing


           Slick has every intention of keeping the village quiet.  The duct tape should fit snugly on every mouth.  Even the babies of the village will be accounted for.  A more pressing problem will be how he intends to keep the tape on for the remainder of the villagers’ lives.

     Slick never truly thought any plan out this far.  And it shows.




Jonas, a timid little man, walked up to the empty help desk. "Great,"
he said, "Just like my life. No one is here to help when I need it."

Tuesday, May 6, 2008


Hollywood, 1940

Too many Frankensteins to count. that's the only way i can describe the thrilling climax at the observatory. more Frankensteins than have ever been in one picture, and they are all trying to kill this one guy!

are Any of them from the future?

nope. all the Frankensteins are from the present.



i don't know. it just seems a bit-


I just don't know if audiences are ready for multiple Frankensteins.

are you shitting me? are you now made of shit? Audiences would sell their souls to see a screen full o' Frankensteins! Bob, this has never been done before, not in the history of motion pictures, but we can do it! Universal studios can do it! Now, what do you say?

hmmm. i say get a shovel! We got Frankensteins to build!


EPILOGUE: They went to jail.


Ladder up. 

We stormed the Cinnamon Forest with every bit of firepower we had.  Our platoon had been whittled down while we tried to take Candy Cane Bridge.  Jurgenson drowned in the Molasses River, dragged down by his own gear and the only radio we had.  We lost Scanlon and Dumas somewhere in the Lollipop Fields. Battered and sugar-frosted, we headed into the place that scared us the most.  Cinnamon Forest was so unbelievably dark in the thick of it.  Couldn’t see a foot in front of use without infra-red.  The trees constantly shed a thick haze of powder, and the air was deliciously sweet.  It clogged the lungs of Cagley, our point man, who was so addicted to the taste that he was still licking the air as he suffocated.  We bundled up as Kindall took point. 

There were monsters in that Cinnamon Forest.  None that would be describable by me or Orenstein or Thaxter or any of the other guys who made it out.  Just monsters is all.  The cutest, most horrifyingly, sticky sweet this world could possibly dream up.  All smiles and puffy fur and claws. 

We took down as many as we could before setting charges at the base of Gumdrop Hill.  We lost a lot of good men at that hill.  Simonds, the rookie.  Captain Gardner.  Ooley, the loose cannon.  All gone, and for what?  One miserable piece of candy-coated real estate.

War is Hell.  Chewy, chocolaty Hell. 


Monday, May 5, 2008


Time for a little behind the scenes. I get asked, "Pete where do you
get your wacky story ideas?"

At this point, I usually laugh and slap my knee. Sometimes I place a
comforting hand on their shoulder and say, "None of your business."
There are usually stares and occasionally a nervous glance around the
room, at which point I would laugh and say, "Oh, you know Pete can't
keep his secrets to himself."

I would then gather them around, and tell them all my wondrous
stories of magic elves and unicorns visiting me. They bring me story
nuggets that I keep in my coat pocket until they are ready to hatch.
Story nuggets one day grow up to be real stories.

The kids ooh and ahh. I get a kick out of it and everybody is happy.
That is until they realize I had an associate of mine steal their

Terminatory (108)

the house was surrounded by assassins from the future, all come to kill him. they weren't all the from the same place, and they weren't all there for the same reasons. but one of them had to succeed- only it had to be the right one, or all would be lost.
so, what do you think?

well, it could be cool.

it sounds a bit terminatory though, huh?

well, what doesn't? you ever see Atonement? Terminatory.


Sorry, fellas.  I just don’t hear a single on this record.  Now, I know this is your sophomore effort and all, but the first album had two, maybe three to choose from at least.  This one, though.  Don’t get me wrong.  It’s a great album.  And it’s not my job to infringe on your whatever.  Your creativity.  It’s my job to get a single outta’ you guys.  But I just don’t hear one.  Sorry.  And I know what you’re gonna’ say, trust me.  The best bands in the world have come in and out of this label.  I mean, The Tchotchkes for instance.  All they had was singles.  They put out singles without trying.  And the one time I came in and told ‘em I didn’t hear a single, they fucking freaked.  “We built this label,” they said.  “If there ain’t a single, there ain’t a single!  We don’t need singles anymore!”  Well, you know where The Tchotchkes are now?  Nowhere.  They’re history.  Ancient history.  But I don’t wanna’ have that happen to you guys.  So, please.  For me and for the label.  Hell, for yourselves.  Go back in there and record a single.


Sunday, May 4, 2008

Do you have this is a 14?

"Excuse me sir, but do you have any paternity clothes in stock?" a man
in tight fitting clothes asked the rather stuffy looking store clerk.

"There is no such thing."

"Well, my wife is pregnant and she gets to enjoy maternity clothes. I
started putting on a few pounds, and figured I should get some
paternity clothes."

"I hate to be rude, but that's not from being pregnant. You're just fat."




zero (109)

I won't describe the wound, because you don't want to know. hell, just thinking about it is making me sick. i won't tell you about it at all, so don't ask. it's not really important to the story other than the fact that you know that there was a wound. an in depth discuassion of it won't be necessary.
so, here's how he got it- hye was standing there waiting and minding his own business, and the next thing you know he was wallowing on the ground, clutching his stomach in pain.
it seems that he had some sort of virus. they were never sure how he got it, but they locked him up to study him and to stop the spread- just in case.
they said that they'd never seen anything like it before. on the third day, the wound began to-
you know what?


     Having sex with that cat was exactly what Jake thought it would be like.  Like an out-of-body experience and incredibly ungratifying.  He wasn’t invited to the party, but he wasn’t exactly uninvited either.  This was how he had to spend his time.

     Jake would never look at that cat the same way again.  The filthy, little whore.  


Saturday, May 3, 2008


One of the most misguided Marvel Comic Characters is Jell-oMan. He
was originally meant to be a villain for Ironman. He was also to be a
tie-in for promotional purposes with the Jello-o Corporation.

He did not last long as the comic reading public saw him as a little soft.

Legend (110)

towards the end of the street, near the rundown house, there was a path. it lead deep into the woods. everyone knew about the path, yet no one used it. there were the random occasions due to high school bets where someone would attempt to walk that dark, narrow way into the woods, but fear will always get the best of them.
the legend is that before the house burned, there was a family that lived there. people have taken to calling them the House family. there was a mommy and a daddy and a little girl.
apparently, the little girl didn't come out right.
she was deformed and a bit sick in the head. the Houses had attempted to let her become a part of regular school, but the girl was too disruptive to the class. students always stared at her and were always distracted by her loud breathing.
they made fun of her constantly and forced her to play alone at recess.
this is when Mrs. house swore that her girl would never leave the house again.
so, as things things often go, it became customary to go up to the house to try and sneak a peak at the deformed girl. so many people made their way to do this that it wore a path in the woods near the house.
they say that a couple kids went down that path one day and sat in the woods behind the house waiting ans watching for their chance to see the girl- but she appeared behind them and chopped them up with an ax. this is when the family quickly moved under cover of night.
even today, there are still people that say they remember the girl when she came to school that one week 20 years ago.
the truth is, there was a girl but she wasn't deformed. in fat, she was pretty average. and boys would walk into the woods behind her house and wait for her to undress in her window.
one day, her dad caught a couple of the Home schooled kids having a circle jerk in the woods, and he packed up his family and left.
so, that's what happened.

FILM 101

Scowl at the crew, but be nice to the talent.  Crew you can get more of.  If you piss off the talent, chances are you’ve already burned film with their likenesses on it, so, short of using body doubles or footage that should be on the cutting room floor, make sure you keep them happy.  Good craft services go a long way. 

Shoot fast.  You have to bring a film in on time and on budget.  The 46th day of a 45 day shoot is unacceptable.  Even if you’re not happy with the dailies, you’ll be happier if the studio isn’t breathing down your neck.  Also, shooting fast requires less haircuts for talent.

Leave the audience wanting more.  Pose questions, but never answer them all.

Don’t shoot in snow.  Unless you’re shooting in some place like Alaska or Minnesota, where it’s prevalent and, more importantly, the audience’s perceptions of that place equals snow.

Kill your baby.  No matter how important a shot is, it can be sacrificed.  No one will know but you.

And lastly, don’t be an asshole.  Hollywood embraces assholes, but only the ‘known’ assholes.

“What Do You Want, A Sandwich?” is the film that needs, NAY, must be made.  It’s the 21st century’s answer to “The Big Chill.”  Anybody who tells you that this film’s unimportant is your enemy.

Don’t let the pricks get you down.


Friday, May 2, 2008

Wasting time

His brother was killed. He wanted revenge. He trained for years. He
devoted his entire life to revenge, and once everything was all said
and done, he was lost. He had no purpose.

That is until he got a job at Taco Bell. Now, he makes burritos and nachos.


Then nice man asked if i was ready to rock.
i guess i wasn't listening.
the rocking started, and i was caught off-guard.
all is lost.


So, what do you got for me?

Let’s see.  Ummm . . “No fuss, no muss?”

“Muss?”  What the fuck is “muss?”

It’s like “no problem.”

So, essentially it means “no fuss.”


So, you’re proposing the tagline, “No fuss, no fuss.”

Alright, so I didn’t really think that one through.  I’ve got a better one.

You’d better.  Hit me.

“We’ll sue the pants off of you.  And then you’ll have to go around with no pants.”

That’s the one that’s better than “No fuss, no fuss.”  C’mon!  What else you got?

Uh . . . “spluh-goo-goo?”


“Spluh-goo . . . . goo?”

What are you saying?

I don’t know!  I was nervous.  That just came out.

Well, it’s genius!  Say it again!  This time with feeling!


Yes.  YES!  See, that’s the kind of tagline this agency needs!  It’s fresh, it’s new, it’s  memorable!  Clem, I’m giving you a promotion!  Senior Writer!


Alright, you got the promotion.  Settle down.