The Hilarious Thread...

[marshmallow_man]

Ok. Scenario. I am at work taking care of my friend, and was about to write a BS paper about Alzheimer's (not that the disease is BS, just the task of researching it) when I realized my time would be better spent on the following:

You may have found yourself thinking up funny titles to books? Since few, if any, of us will have a chance to be famous writers (Harnk excepted) we should go ahead and share our gold with each other in order to make a boring day 1% more fun!

"By We, I Mean You." new insight into couple therapy.

"Invitation to a Bedwetting." innovations in child psychology.

"Men Should be From Venus 'cause it Rhymes With Penis." a collection of musings from famous bachelors.

[Harnk]

Disco Yahtzee Paralysis, Built Brown For Bob- A Regional Ala Carte Disaster Menu

We Fought For Lewis- A Thesis On The Demise of Lunch and the Unjustified Presence of Brunch

The Neckplant Manifest- Seasonal Tales of Haunted Lawns and Nutrition

[Edited on 3-9-2006 by Harnk]

[Harnk]

“cantankery!�

“I beg your pardon�

“You beg for what?�

“Sorry?�

“Philip�

“Not even close�

“Is ‘cantankery’ even a word?�

“Sit on my pants and hold your toes�

“I will not�

“This is an outrage!�

“I don’t see how�

“Well that does not surprise me. You’ve got a pigeon on your neck�

“You need help�

“Touch me you cocksucker!�

“I think you need to relax�

“Don’t get fresh with you dastardly whipple�

“Sir, I am leaving�

“Can I have a hug ?�

“certainly not�

“Ok. I’ll see you tonight Dad�

“Goodbye Son�

“Bye Dad�

[Harnk]

Guacomole displacement due to coding errors, and that you should return unused portions to china for a fully reversed refund, thus relentless library meal-carts and handsome carpets build barnacle pollution therapy for salad reclassification and rectal lester squats touting sensitive beef appraisals limiting dutch bubble practices, albeit apish. I'll never understand why it is called 'racist'. Does that not imply that you like races?I love a good running race, she said. Ensconced in prosciutto and wearing a necktie that screamed 'Oi Vey', Sol Goldman smacked his wife in the face and asked her for his lunch. She handed him a backpack filled with plums and rice and then kicked him in the family jewels. They kissed and went separate ways as Sol made his way towards the courthouse were he worked as a scratch pad tablet. He stood next to the public payphone leaning over so that anyone in need of a piece of paper could jot down information on his back. His wife cried each night and beggd Sol to get a job that involved getting payed, but Sol would always reply that "people gotta do what people gotta do, and I'm certain that God would not want to see me doing anything else but this". As Jean, he was free to squeeze the soldiers as the wisked by in their olive drab potato suits, only his fear of skin did not lend well to his one love, skin squeezing. He thought about getting new hobby, but he always became distracted by the idea of wrapping his legs around a nude moose, which explained his poverty, as continous trips to the States, where moose roam freely in the Northern regions, was leaving him pennyless and hungry. One could become increasingly frustrated in trying to analyse the behavior of Biggie, or rather Jean, as he would always approach the moose with great joy and a firm erection, but just as he would reach out to squeeze the moose he would begin to quiver and relent. To stand at opposition to one's only joy, being the one, is quite the quandry, and otherwise self destructive. Biggie is now a resident of the flunder Creek Home For The Mentally Challenged and will only answer to the name Jean. Switch and bait was the name of his game, as Biggie began selling French Poodles on Potters Creek Lane. Just as his customers were free to leave with their new dog, Biggie would quickly switch the poodle with a cucumber and turn his head and whistle. This went on for weeks until Gary Pickles reported a cucumber shortage in Hull. This immediately drew attention to Biggie's Poodle Shop, as Hullards marched south to Birmingham where they met resistance from the Biggie Cornchop Thunderjuice Descrepancy Alliance. A clash turned to joy, as the opposing forces called for a lunch break where cucumber sandwiches were being served on Talooka bread, only the joke was on them as the cucumbers were in fact poodles. Biggie turned his neck when he saw a tall man laughing gregariously at him, and much to his surprise it was Spastic Colon, the fat boy who gave him the idea of selling cucumbers as poodles. The two shared a pint and Spastic told Biggie about his lifelong struggle of cucumber and poodle envy. Spastic Colon coiled his slender penis into G-Cleff note as be prepared his Scunguili Opera in reverse to check for any leaky faucets that could otherwise hinder his performance, ultimately leaving him angered in tears over the 'drip drip' noise that reminded him of his 7th birthday party when Auntie Lajoyna pulled out his penis in front of all of his friends and began to fellate him to sounds of Earth Wind and Fire, only done by a tribute band who chose to sing the songs in Japanese sign language, which ruined the party and essentially his life. Kloh Arouster once dove into a pool of mule rice with an enormous erection, only the erection was made of rabbit smiles sheethed in minced clam manuevers I'm aware of the distance. I'm aware of many things. For instance, right now I know you're fingering your sour little wedger with those carrot fingers of yours...thinking about my balls, and how they would feel knocking on your backdoor Frogs bounce and eels curl
Though each one remains close to God
Bulls pray, while gators sleep
Tough each one loves the sun
Hamburgers relent, yet hotdogs surprise
Yet both remain indiferrent to French products
Elephants smile, yet Walter wimpers
Meanwhile the onions are lonely for company
Plums dismiss, and a phetus screams hello
Both know the meaning of a tight budget
Eskimoes tottle, while umbrellas sulk
Heaven knows we are trying to unite
Penguins prance and hunters dance
Can we please remain seated
Cadillac virtues and Home Hop lunch
Both equally rotten and flawed
God is here, and God is now
God is your penis, God is a cow
predictability is consistency wrapped in an insult.
Let us browse in fuel, or worse a mule, who finds it hard to stand tall when Small Paul has been floating prickly pears in his direction without lending his David pants for good lending practices that prevent soft friends from obligations that often end in tears, or worse fears, that come in full battalion gear draped furiously over pigs and cooked pigs, which is ham, if you care, but good God I love hair

[Harnk]

For the moment lets pretend that love is what we eat and that hate is what we fondle, and with that lets also try and pretend that grocery stores are portals to deliver Winston Lunch Specials, only Winston certificates can only be distributed to those who wear their pants over the face and their shoes all over the place, but never on the feet, or worse, filled with beets."
perception is spaghetti when you chicken looks like confetti. When I shit I like to sceream Hey hey hey It's Fat Albert.I get erections at restaurants. Pinching Roberts for the sake of hungry Datsuns and viscious fences?? I don’t think so Jeffry. My guess is that Catalog Mike eventually collected too many catalogs and that he drove himself right out of his house. Now he’s dancing with Paul down by the freeway, calling out for donuts to help ease the walrus that curled West for Swimsuit Saturdays down in Jersey City. Small Davids appeared from each side of the bar holding Metamucil jars filled with travel-size toiletries and pencil shavings. Wednesdays were indeed odd in Gary's head.Every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Plant will never know what hit him when he realizes that I do not follow Murphy's Law,and that my revenge will make him plead mercy like a chicken farm chicken being called in for weighing.Said man shot two bent eels and later decided that eels were better alive so he arched his neck and layed out a generous portion of diarreah across the picnic blanket. We he finished his chore he spoke of the eels with great admiration, curiously, however, leaving out the details of the murder. Oprel Dushcneger failed to approach the sex with practicality, with leg over thigh he scampered across the floor chirping at the frightened lady who sat legs open and bible in hand. Dogs left. Evidently you have mistaken me for a telephone. Please remove your pants and slide over this Chevy Chevette. We are going to see how pretty you are, or if you've ever felt bologna at all. Please allow six weeks for delivery if you are Jewish and one year if you are muslim. All contracts are brown. See store manager for further details pertaining to small dolphin investments. Hunger is not the answer. Feel free to help yourslef to Tuesday while we test Monday for nutrition levels.

[Harnk]

Dr. Gumbo illustrates his theory by using his own personal experience as the "Model For Unfound Goodness and Subsequent Sadness". As a young man Dr. Gumbo had lost his dog while walking him just before midnight. Through exstensive research and scrutinization over the sequence of events he has discovered that his dog had in fact gone to the Bank that evening to take out his life savings and catch a train to Detroit, where he later became a Crash Test Conductor for General Motors. At this time Dr. Gumbo was operating under the notion that the day was 24 hours, as told by society and his Timex watch. Dogs, as you may already know, do not follow, or even understand the logic of time, which is evident in their desire to eat at all hours of the day. It seems there may be a kink or two in the Dr's theory, though I remain hopeful.

While I was immediately sold on Dr Gumbo's theory (kinks aside), I was not convinced that his theory had become widely accepted, as he had been telling me these past days. I never really understood how it was that he considerd himself a Philanthropist, as further investigation revealed he hadn't left his house between the ages of 7 and 68. I felt it was in my best interest to hold off on my plans to investigate the disappearing salami and provolone sandwich that went missing while I was sleeping on the night of February 7th 2003

Two weeks later I received a phonecall from FBI field agent Kenny Elopofinulee, asking me if I knew the whereabouts of Dr.Gumbo,and if he mentioned any plans to go to London. I told him that "No, I don't even know if Dr. Gumbo has had his lunch yet, it's rather early". Agent Elopofinulee asked me if I had been using any illegal narcotics "No, and I'm not even sure if I'm ready to answer any more questions until I speak to my gardener", at which point he hung of the phone. I placed the phone down on the receiver and turned on the television to document channel 4's news coverage, something I had been doing since I came down with Tuberculosis yesterday. Anchorman Todd Blouter interrupted the commercial break with Urgent News Flash that Big Ben, the very large clock in England, had gone missing sometime after midnight, and that police had very little go on. I noted the report in my jornal then poured myself a glass of Penicillin.

The doorbell rang and I opened the door and saw four very small mules waiting impatiently, as if the ten seconds it took me to get to the door was something of a inconvienence. I asked the tallest of the very small mules if he was looking for someone, or perhap if he has got the wrong address, as I haven't ordered any small mules since I came down with Pneumonia last Wednesday. The mule asked me if he could come in. I told him that would be fine, and asked if the other mules intended to come in too. He nodded and then climbed over my shoe and headed directly towards my bedroom. The other mules waited by the fireplace quietly, as I followed the tallest mule into my bedroom where I found him disconnecting my alarm clock with a puny butcher knife. I thought it would best to let him finish, as I know how testy these small mules can get when you distract them from what they are doing (something I learned last Wednesday during my bout of pneumonia). when the mule was through with disconnecting my clock I asked him why he was doing this. The elder mule nodded and headed for the kitchen where he finished my cup of penicillin before walking out the front door with his fellow mules following in single file. I took a nap next to the refridgerator.

Later that evening I got another call from Agent Elopofinulee, asking me if it would be okay if he checked my cupboards for any small mules. I was hesitant to say yes, but since the mules had been gone for 4 hours now, I told him it would be okay. Two hours later Agent Elopofinulee knocked on my door. I was quite surprised to see that he was an octopus. I thought this was unusual, as the last FBI agent that visited me during my Mononucleosis bout was a lobster. I felt I was in no position to question his credentials, so I invited him in. When I closed the door I turned around and Agent Elopofinulee was nowhere to be seen. I called out to him "Agent Elopofinulee, oh Agent Elopofinulee, where are you ?". He did not respond, so I called my Uncle Harnk to ask what he would do in a situation like this. Uncle Harnk told me to put all of my clocks in the oven and to open all of the windows in the house until he called back with more information. I hung up the phone and noticed that my bedroom wall was covered from floor to ceiling with a variety of clocks. I thought to myself that there was no way I was going to fit all of these clocks in my oven. I quickly ran to the phone to call my Uncle again. When Uncle Harnk answered the phone he said "Welcome to McDonalds, may I have your pants please". I took off my pants and soon realized that Uncle Harnk would have to come over and collect them from me. Knowing that his condition prevented him from driving, and that 6 miles was a long walk when you have a nephew with ears, I decided that it would be best if I burried the phone below the oak tree, so that my Uncle would not feel rejected. I thought about Burt Reynolds for a few moments then went to sleep in the sink.

Agent Elopofinulee tapped on my nose with his tentacle, standing above me in the sink with his gun aimed directly at my face. I knew something was wrong because his shirt buttons were lopsided, the top button clung to the second button hole. I asked him if we would like some waffles. He responded with a swift smack across my chin. I cried for a few minutes then proceeded to make the waffles. As I reached for the maple syrup he lashed at me again, this time using all eight tentacles, which sent me flying through the window and straight into my neighbor Sally Pugg's bedroom. Oddly enough Dr. Gumbo was there in her bedroom making a wonderful wool lasagna. They asked me to join them, to which I obliged. Dr. Gumbo assured me that things were going to make a turn for the good. He asked me to follow him into the cellar, so I did. Much to my dismay, and confusion, the basement staircase lead us to London. I knew this could not be possible, simply because London was 5 hours ahead of us and it was clearly morning time. Dr. Brown told me that his "Model For Unfound Goodness and Subsequent Sadness" theory had a few kinks, and that Big Ben was it fact responsible for his missing dog. I told him that this was absurd, that Big Ben was nothing more than an unusually large clock, and there was no way that he was going to get another lunch out of me (Dr Brown required a free lunch each visit, for his troubles). Dr. Brown looked at me with great disapointment then faced their staircase and called out to Sally "Sally dear, give me a holler when the lasagna is ready would'ja love". It was at this point that I realized that Dr. Brown was a fraud, and I a fool. I left the Sally's in a hurry and rushed inside my house. Agent Elopofinulee was still there, and still very much an octopus. He told me that he would not be returning, and that while I was still in grave danger, that he felt I was strong enough to get through it. He left a few hours later, and it was at this point that I began feeling the early stage symptoms of Spinal Meningitis. I crawled back up in the sink and took a long nap.

I awoke to the sound of my mother calling me "Reggie...Reggie...where the hell are ya kid. Mr Belevedo called. He said you skipped school again today". "I'm up here ma. I don't feel good". You better pray to God that you're sick. If I find out that you've gone and done one of your crazy episodes again I think I'll kick you in the pants so hard that you'll cry in Japanese". I walked over to my mother and told her that "I washed my wide legs in German potions of inconsequential spider lethargy", which doesn't really make sense unless you're perched upon a hot salad machine, you see. Mom had a great way of showing love, even when she was mad. We turned on the TV and ate jelly covered frogs and talked about all the wonderful illnesses that have plagued us this year. My mother was my best friend.

"Ma"
"yes Reggie"
"Can you tell me a funny story before we go to bed"
"Sure sweety. Let me go get my canoe. I'll be right back. Get under the covers"
Mom returned with her canoe and placed it next to my bed. I told Mom that I loved her. She smiled and began her story.

One man's lunch is another man's disaster, which only makes sense when you consider how lonely we become when lobsters stop swimming and start playing the violin as though Burt Reynolds was there, in his underwear curling eskimoes between his toes, never once losing the connection between hot virus and Curly Lester.
I took out my canoe from the shed, layed down inside and drifted out into the canal. The swell of the water put me fast asleep as I dreamt of fruity rivers of lactate depositories filled with charming soft balerinas bouncing on tangerine marshes. Silver wet flies buzzing through the meadows filling the air with sounds of cheer, as Lucy and I held hands, skipping through the grass with laughter, vowing to our vision, curiously testing the limits of our lunacy. A smart horse galloped passed us in the fields of wheat, giving us the nod of arrival

[Harnk]

Turkeys were meant to fly, only I told them not to

[Harnk]

"Stand back Hellroy !!! I'm gonna crush that mule if he takes one more step towards my lunch !"

"But Dad, that's not a mule. That's Mom"

[Harnk]

Nylon gorillas harbor your soul to keep your God at bay, it seems. Don't hold me in your cup, Moonkiss, you are not the keeper. You are the World. I'm gentle in this charade of harlots and bulls. Apparitions drop in clouds of dust, only to reassemble when you have gone. My only wish is too shave the spiders before your return, as a sign of my deepest love. If October leaves me without you, in you, I will breathe spirals of wine, teaming through your eyes, reminding you in ways too soft to recall, blank in your mind, your tears will drop pieces of what I never gave you. Your fading thoughts of me soak into the soil, sprouting weeds to be pulled on a Saturday chore. When you remember, years on, you will see me in the grass, patterns of blades blowing in curls, lifting the scent of Spring over your cup of tea. I'm not dead. I'm only waiting. I'm not blind, only sleeping. I'm still be here, raking the leaves in your garden, turning the soil of our haunted lawn

[opopopo]

Ah, that was refreshing.

[call me hi]

Originally posted by Harnk
"Stand back Hellroy !!! I'm gonna crush that mule if he takes one more step towards my lunch !"

"But Dad, that's not a mule. That's Mom"

that's one of the funniest things i've read in a while.

[Harnk]

She struggled to find her eyes, caught up in a storm of walking dyslexia, eggs in the sink and ham in the closet. It wasn't so much unordinary, but rather simple, and that it wasn't Wednesday only made it Monday, she thought, standing on her palms inside her sock cabinet, tied to an argyle moment, alone. All of this was beautiful and sad, boxed up in carboard hearts ready for shipment, minus God and postage stamps, undone for Momma, blinded brown for the last time, it wasn't to be. She untied her limbs and pushed open the cabinet door with her pinky, stepped out and made herself a tiny lunch. I stood behind the curtains, astonished by her independence and wide-lined corduroys, which sent me into a hysterical rage on Godzilla envy. Her name was Opopopo, and she was a Queen.

[Harnk]

I say "linguini primavera" really fast whenever I have an orgasm. My barber gets annoyed when I do this

[Harnk]

Denver has the best napkins. You'll see.

[Harnk]

Well, to be honest, I had something very specific in mind. If you're not into curry and motor oil then I'm afraid you won't be of much use to me. See, I'm lactating in the most innapproriate of places, thus making me partial to kielbasa, Tom Waits and premium deli meat advertisements.

[Harnk]

"No worries. Allow me to fart directly into your nose and then we'll call it even"

[Harnk]

Milky tears glazed his nose like a warm crueller, which prompted Felix to nibble upon his nostrils. In reverse all seems kind, but let's rewind and roll it forward to reveal the real reverse which tilts otherwise into blue skies that roll over plumes of clouds, and crowds below roar, as a lion passes, then passes a sandwich to the boy who crossed his glasses to fix his eyes that rolled side to side like a boxer weaving, and a baby is teething, for a crueller, not glazed, and that much is saved, for Felix, the man who ate the nose of Winston, the boy, who's eyes dripped of joy, and milk, like silk on a thigh, and fancy, you fall asleep, and pray.

[Harnk]

I caught my father pinching sauerkraut behind the Old Windmill just before dawn. I was taking a morning stroll with my girlfriend Notchese, who for all good intentions lacked a nose, which is why she was dating a Polish windmill enthusiast like myself. Father was much like me, in that he opted for interests that often were not shared by any, as a way of keeping his thoughts pure. December nearly killed father, as ever. Each year he would hold Glory behind a windwill with superficial dissertations on Earth's treasures. Suspicion brought the police to our door that evening when Old Lady Carol reported a German smell that was keeping her from enjoying Wednesday. When the police questioned father's motive and the subsequent actions of his unnatural behavior, father broke out in chorus as he often did when his private life was being interragated " Oh it's it's such a perfect day, I'm glad I spent it it with you. Such a perfect day, and you keep me hanging on". Father did not care for music per se, but that particular Lou Reed song resonated deeply within his soul. To hear that song 6-7 times a day would not be unordinary. The police gave father a citation and gave him a stern warning about pinching saurkraut behind the mill. Old Ladt Carol knew how to shit on a Wednesday like nobody else. I asked Notchese to leave and to go find a nose just before father and I retreated to yard to count the blades of grass in hopes of reducing public sin.

[Harnk]

I rubbed my cock all over the begonias. Spring Fever? I think so.

[Harnk]

Climbing The Ladder of Marshmallow America- How do you measure success when kicking spiders in your wet suit ?

[Harnk]

Pure olives ignite my brow, and to the contrary, I adore Burt Reynolds, albeit from a distance, even though my wife has fallen for his beautiful mustache.

[Harnk]

My twenties were prickly and unsettling. I mean what's so gentle about a hammers and rice, and why are we serving sandwiches on soft bread again? Can someone please remove their pants before I get viscious…I mean c'mon man. I'm Joan Jett. Well, actually I'm not, but you can see what I'm getting at, with the wonderful shampoo. I hope for every pregnant mind sipping on a tomato, there is an a lonely boy clinging to his computer, wearing cologne. Let us break mustard until we split our parents into camera piles, was his thought, only more fragmented and less logical.

[Christophe dininski]

It took me a month before i was abled to look inward enough to consider the perks of being anarmchair sales chief, without any thought for justice, only feathers of digruntled fish who have left the air for a future of giadia and crypto-speridium.
Anvils weigh down the legs and tails of humanoid space coats. " Alive! Alive!" It was no use the rubber had been stretched beyond the land of beyond. My furtherest mind projections only resolve with instant garb.

Oh the ham rots when the road closes to no body.

Sheet stains bought on by hideous termite noise. Massage my bruised spleen for without its red blood cell destroying nature in full swing, how is it possible? What? how dare you insult the dribble spewed forth from my over active palm tree, moping up after my self seems such an arduious chore.
I'm gonna watch the money go through the feet in the floor. I am up to the edge of the dancefloor. watching the flashing lights. It's Sunday but there are no thimbles thick enough.

[Harnk]

i like you

[Christophe dininski]

Have you ever gone to, a-zoo!!

[Harnk]

Pssh. A zoo. I AM THE ZOO

[blaise]

yr joan jett and a zoo?

[Christophe dininski]

Not a day goes past in a fertile mind that wanders, where a reel to reel tape canister isn't locked onto the appetite of a honey snack biscuits and f-f-fresh information on thorns. I asked my mum whether or not the masks she wore as a night owl produced as exhillarating effects in after glow as the king tide that was programmed for a month and a half before tommorrow.
She of course responded in a tub of salt, exalting that " reptiles eat their young if they are not protected by their governing wits." and " that the recent spat of pollution is not the fault of mass producing oven fried moss, but the aaaaaaaaaaa ke;p fla'illlop"
This shread of hope hung percarilously over the sandwhich filled with spanish onion, spanish sausage and a poor Latvian migrant named Olaf. He was made of pumis and had spent twelve years rubbing against all of the lost continents ice shelves, "To the inner west region just beyond Warhoupe".she cried a tissue was produced,
another dead tree,
another puss filled blister on the hand of capitalism,
another nail in the coffin for our friend the sun. " BUT HE HAS NO HANDS!!!"
" Aggghhh you're a garnet."

[Code_J]

it's true

[magneticrollerskater]

"Ten Stupid Things Men Do To Fix Their Lives" -Helpful and Sequential Steps of Pure Luck


"Hellraiser's Guide To A Better Life Style" -God's Turn To Deceive With His New Novel"


"I Will Kill You" -A New Guide in Dealing With Your Sexually Active Teenage Daughter


"Honey, I Bought The Kids" -How To Tell Him You Don't Want Have A Baby Because your Eco Friendly



I know these aren't marvelous titles...but rudely I think Harnk threw everything off track talking about guacamole and what not (don't get me wrong I love guacamole). I though I could get this running like it should have because this is afunny topic.

Kyle.

[Harnk]

CHINESE CUPCAKES

it was last september
on a cold day - yellow skies I remember
or the first day in october in 2006
or maybe it was 2007 i can't be sure
but it was the day I recall seeing her there
an ominous sky pervaded
she was under a central park picnic bench
eating chinese cupcakes.. one by one
she had a whole tray of em
like a flat wax box all flimsy
her hands picking thru crèmes and crumbs
her thumbs her frosted lips
her crazy mouth - tremoring shiny lips
and under that picnic bench she cried
she cried all day long… i watched her
i watched her from my car by the park entrance
behind a pair of broken windshield wipers
i heard her
she cried for the daughters of communist china
the sons of mothers who moon their neighbors
the awful state of this hectic america...
she cried for the balding bees
slouched in wisteria
the headlocked boy on a suburban lawn
gnawing at his finger bones - alone
she cried for her mother's sorrow
her sister's death
the careless deliberations of unpaid jurors
she cried for the alcoholic nose, all bulbous and crimson
the ridiculous notion of prison to reform
she cried for the executions…both man and crustacean
the lobster traps the bb gun kid
shooting holes thru squirrels on a saturday whim
as the rain danced across & around her table
she cried for the ants the gnats even bears!
hats lost in the closet of hand knitted wears
she cried for the knitters of those disused knits
she cried to the sky with her cupcake hands
she cried for ailing winds the troubled clouds
idle butterflies
the leaning trees hungry for a breeze
the man with so much hair and no breeze to walk it thru
she cried for the beaten
the oceans of fish waiting to be plucked
their silent screams
the pigeons the rain the waterlogged bread
ish kabibble's bowl cut head
she cried at the feet of joggers the strollers
the rollerblading twins
the sins of our glutton she cried for most
gargantuan meals
humongous trucks
the pork fried crimes of portly parents
the fountain of puke
the overdose kings and queens of youth
she cried all day long - eating chinese cupcakes
she was mostly nude
under that table nude with her cupcakes
she cried for the earth
but what drew me in - what kept me there in my car
all day long as she cried for peace -
i skipped work too
as she cried for all which unkind in this world
the disgraceful state of mankind
but what really drew me in were those chinese cupcakes
man, i never knew about chinese cupcakes
nobody ever offered me one single chinese cupcake
frankly, as far as i was concerned
the chinese cupcake was unborn - unrealized
all those years i had spent - all 34 of them
from birth to here - and not one single
chinese cupcake had I eaten or known of-
and so i saw here there the very next day and
soon enough it was clear that she was always there
and so finally I asked her - crouching by her bench
I said to her all eager and estatic
where is it that you get those wonderful chinese cupcakes?
she looked at me with displeasure
or perhaps it was indifference or dementia
i asked her again and she looked away...
so I pulled on her eyelids and implored her
where do you get those chinese fucking cupcakes then?!
she slapped back with fudgey fingers and dissent
they're just american cupcakes…from hector's bakery
now fuck off please i'm trying to cry"

[magneticrollerskater]

"Ten Stupid Things Men Do To Fix Their Lives" -Helpful and Sequential Steps of Pure Luck


"Hellraiser's Guide To A Better Life Style" -God's Turn To Deceive With His New Novel"


"I Will Kill You" -A New Guide in Dealing With Your Sexually Active Teenage Daughter


"Honey, I Bought The Kids" -How To Tell Him You Don't Want Have A Baby Because your Eco Friendly



I know these aren't marvelous titles...but rudely I think Harnk threw everything off track talking about guacamole and what not (don't get me wrong I love guacamole). I though I could get this running like it should have because this is afunny topic.

Kyle.




I also meant to add in...Andy I think when you and Kieth John stayed at my place you left a Yuengling Black & Tan full bottle in my room. Im not suer if it was a gift...but its here. Happy Trails.

Kyle

[Harnk]

I also meant to add in...Andy I think when you and Kieth John stayed at my place you left a Yuengling Black & Tan full bottle in my room. Im not suer if it was a gift...but its here. Happy Trails.

Kyle

i'm certain he's looking for that one bottle of yunegling...or was this your cute way of letting us know that andy gonzalez slept on your porch...

not exactly like Prince cleaning your cock.

[magneticrollerskater]

Yeah, he also sat next to me on a roller coaster, great ego booster ya know.