My sister - a poem

I couldn't find a bucket so as a substituted I used a bag of grasshoppers.   

My salamander was pissed off because they were her dinner.

Which was a nice distraction from my sister who was pissed off and wanted to know why I was washing her car with bugs. 

Just then a giant robot fountain came and bit my sisters head off and swallowed it in three mere chews.

This shocked me. 

Because this was a fountain shaped like a huge bowl.

And bowls don't have mouths.

And fountains normally only consume water.

And my sister mostly drank juice and coffee. 

And why build a robot fountain, surely the water will fuck up the robotics?

And how did I know it was 'giant'?

Fountains come in all sorts of sizes, this could have just been life sized.

And where was this fountain when I was looking for a bucket?

That could have been very useful.

And I wonder which was invented first, buckets or fountains? 

And I bet it was buckets, but I wish it was fountains, cause I'd love to see the first guy slap his forehead when he realized that there could easily be a more useful and easy to create receptacle for water. 

And when guys slap their girlfriends in the forehead with their dicks are they trying to manufacture an 'ah hah' moment?

And why did I just think of that, there was no need to add a hypothetical dick reference to a true story about my sister.

And why do people pose hypotheticals? 

Why not just create detailed and controlled scientific studies and get accurate results? 

Just then I realized why the giant robot fountain wasn't responding to these questions and statements.

Because I was only thinking them, not saying them.

And it didn't have ears.

And it was too busy eating the rest of my sister. 

Just then a giant robot bath plug appeared. 

'You've just met your match!' It cried. 

'Wait I can do better' it added. 

'Um, put down that partial human, or I'll plug you up! You know, like "fuck you up" but replacing "fuck" with "plug" cause that's what I am! No? Doesn't work? Okay, um' it added.

'Things are about to get a "hole" lot harder for you! You know, cause holes are what I block!' It added.

'I know, wait, I'm about to block you up, you bully! No fuck, that's terrible, I can do this I promise. I really should think of these before I leave the house, it's hard in the moment you know?' It added.

'Can I substituted "luck" for "plug", as in "you're shit out of plug"? No, cause I am a plug, that's stupid' it added. 

'You're about to have the plug ripped out from under you! You know like "rug"? Shit' it added. 

'Freeze, put down the girl or I'll plug you!' It added.

'Everytime a door closes a plug opens!' It added.

'I don't know, fuck. Look, put down the girl or I'll plug you! Yeah that's fine. I'll stick with that. So yeah!' It added.

'Sorry to tell you buddy, but I'm not a sink or a bath, I don't have a traditional drain, mine runs the length of the lip of my bowl' chimed in the giant robot fountain. 

'Then why did you let me go on trying to think of a good, badass, pun based catch cry ?' Screamed the giant robot plug. 

'I don't know I wasn't really paying attention, I'm eating dinner' the giant robot fountain replied. 

And the plug was suddenly picked up by a giant robot toddler and hidden from its parents meaning it's giant robot mother didn't get her bath that night, leaving her irritable and cranky. 

Something only exasperated when the toddlers giant robot father slapped her in the forehead later that night with its giant robot dick. 

As I listened to them quarrel that evening - sample 'what the fuck man, are you trying to manufacture an "ah huh" moment? Cause that shit don't work on me' - something just didn't feel right.

The whole day had felt a little weird for some reason. 

But then it hit me! 

I sat bolt upright in my bed.

Slapped myself in the forehead. 

And exclaimed 'I know why this is weird... I don't have a sister!'

Then I flushed my whining salamander down the toilet and went to sleep. 

We've got Zippers Zippers Zippers

Hello, and welcome to Dave's big store of awesome things, but mostly zippers, sandwiches and monkeys, and we're out of stock of sandwiches and monkeys. 

To be honest the monkeys ate the sandwiches and then had allergic reactions to them and died. 

Now that I think about it they may have done us a favor. It turns out making sandwiches from things you find in the creek behind the pharmaceutical company is bad idea. But we didn't know? We figured anything dangerous and deadly would be in the pharmaceuticals themselves. 

You live and learn.

Or die and get the authorities sniffing around your former owners, in the case of the monkeys. 

Although the monkeys may actually done us a favor. It turns out that selling monkeys is illegal. We found that out when the authorities came

around and said 'do monkeys live in these monkey cages?' And we answered honestly 'no they don't' and the authorities answered 'good, cause selling monkeys is illegal'. 

The point is we've got zippers. 

We've got zippers, zippers, zippers. 

We've got zip zip zipity zippers. 

We've got zippers for day time! We've got zippers for night time! We've got zippers for earth dwellers. We've got zippers for mole people and tree folk! We've got zippers for EVERY occasion! 

Got a big anniversary coming up? Sure you do, you're not a lonely loser? Well get him or her a zipper! A zipper let's your lover subtly know that you want to get to know him or her on the inside, which you probably should have done by now, but better late than never. 'What's this?' They'll ask. And you'll be able to say 'that's a zipper!' And they'll be able to say 'oooh la la, want to open me up?' Which is only slightly weird. That's an anniversary win! 

Got a foe? Of course you do, you're not some loser adored by all. Next time you see them just whip the motherfucker with a zipper, they'll go 'what did you just hit me with?' and you'll be able to go 'a zipper!' And they'll say 'knock it off, that's dangerous' and you'll be able to say 'yet allowed on planes!' Boom, that's a foe DOMINATION!

But there are even more uses. 

Lost in the desert with no food? Just eat a zipper! 

Given birth in the back of a taxi? Just wrap the baby in a zipper!

Can't decide what to wear on that big job interview? Just wear a zipper! 

Committed a murder? Just put the murder weapon in bag with a zipper and get a bit of fabric caught in it, the cops will NEVER spend the amount of time required to get that thing open, that can sometimes take up to two minutes! And now you're off Scott free! 

Been murdered? Haunt your killer by following him around anytime he's carrying a full backpack and open zippers behind him, he'll keep thinking his stuff is falling out and sometimes think he may have lost something, that can be annoying, and occasionally even frustrating! 

Is there nothing zippers can't help?  

Dating an elephant? Get it a hoodie with a zipper and your elephant can tuck that trunk away and people will just think your dating a four footed overweight person! 

Ever find you penis or (because we're not sexist and only thinking about the men) possibly even flappy vagina parts stumbling out of your pants at the worst possible time? Get a zipper to close up your pants! 

Got a dog that keeps eating your wallet? Install a zipper on his belly and a second one on his stomach and that wallet will be yours again in minutes! 

Yep there is literally no circumstance a zipper can't aid. Can't find your keys? Pick your lock with a zipper! Got no friends? Zipper to the rescue! Need more money? Open a zipper, sandwich and monkey store! 

Going to come on down to Dave's big store of awesome things? Of course you are, you're not some zipperless loser. Well just for you, here's a limited time offer, buy sixteen zippers and mention this ad, and we'll throw in a seventeenth zipper free! 

(Please note: offer not available to people who want to complain to us about our record with monkey keeping-aliveability - in fact keep up those complaints and you might find yourself whipped - with a ZIPPER!) 

Atypical Positivity

It was just a regular Tuesday when the incident happened. 

I'd freshened the fresh flowers in my home morgue to cover up the stench of Mr Gentry, who's family bizarrely haven't been to pick him up yet, despite the fact I sent out my top messenger pigeon, Señor Bell Tower, to notify them over three weeks ago.

I put out, Señor Bell Tower's favorite dinner, mixed bread crumbs, mashed worm and for some reason chipped condor beak, for him on the roof in desperate hope that he'd finally come home, after he'd strangely failed to return after some mission I sent him on three weeks ago. 

I screamed at the the kid who sits in front of my stoop shooting old ladies with his sling-shot to 'pick on something his own size' only to get the reply 'oh I do' before he started munching on a chicken drumstick, at least I thought it was chicken, but it did seem a tad small. 

I went to my 'Putting 2 and 2 together' tutoring, where I finally ascended to putting 2 and 1 together, with promise that if I mastered it swiftly I may finally progress to putting the ultimate goal of 2 and 2 together before the next change of season.

And then I returned home. 

As I said it was a typical Tuesday. I was feeling jovial at my speedy advancement with tutoring, and was all set to take my typical Tuesday afternoon bath in otter milk, when it happened!!!

On my way to the bathroom, hauling a massive drum of fresh, unpasteurized otter milk, I encountered a bee, Cameron the bee, who bizarrely was attempting to get into my home morgue. And an argument broke out.

'Come on man, let me in' Cameron said. 

'No, my morgue is for amateur embalming, scientific study into armpit hair rigor-mortus, time elapse video of shocked faces of window washers, and a way for me to deal with the fact my pet box-jellyfish that lives in the doorbell keeps killing food delivery persons for some reason, it's NOT for bees!' I replied. 

'Just let me fly around in there for a couple of minutes, please?' Pleaded Cameron.

'I said NO, plus aeronautic experts claim YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN BE PHYSICALLY ABLE TO FLY!' I screamed.

'YEAH WELL I'M FLYING! I'M FLYING MOTHERFUCKER! What you got to say about that?' It challenged.

'I'll tell you what, you're officially ON MY LIST!' I threatened. Although it was not just a threat it was a promise.

Unfortunately the only list I had going at the time was - Alternative job options for shadows that wish to retire from their sparring with boxers career - A list which now reads:

- Scaring children.

- Providing hiding places for licorice. 

- Cameron the bee. And...

- Assisting ghosts who want to experience at least one aspect of having a body again.

And obviously that list is now more perfect even I had ever imagined, something I didn't imagine I'd achieve until noon Wednesday at best. 

Yep it was a typical Tuesday, until Cameron the bee entered my life, and from there it was nothing but atypical, at least in the 'arguments with bees' department, and with it I learned a valuable lesson - arguments CAN lead to positive results. 

And you know what, I'm going to remember that next time I talk to my otter milk guy, and I'm going to get right in his face and yell 'I don't care if it's "really hard to get" I want to up my order to two giant drums a week, I'm ready to up my bath game motherfucker, and if you don't like it I'm going to sick my bee on you!' 

GIANT!

If giant living thimbles that fly and shoot eye boogers arn't real then what's that the hell IS THAT UP

THERE! = a good way to get someone to say 'I'm not falling for that' and/or get them mowed down with giant living flying thimble eye booger! 

Please note 1 - This plan works best in association with some form of pointing. 

Please note 2 - It can be frantic pointing or casual pointing. 

Please note 3 - That really depends on your friends and how they typically react to various methods of pointing you have employed in the past and/or existence of said flying eye booger shooting giant thimbles. 

Please note 4 - Yes it is rude to point, so? What you want to commit a professional, well executed practical joke while simultaneously being polite? Ha ha. You are so naive, that's cute. Next you'll be saying that you don't believe that giant bodily fluid (solid?) shooting sewing aids with various methods of getting around aren't even real? Ha ha. Fools. 

Please note 5 - Oh, 'what the hell IS THAT?' You say.

Please note 6 - I'm not falling for that. 

Please note 7 - Ewwwwww gross, I've been eye booger'd. 

Please note 8 - Alright, alright, you got me. Well played. 

Please note 9 - Wait a minute, this eye booger I'm bathed in feels weird.

Please note 10 - What is this?

Please note 11 - OH HOLY HELL!!!

Please note 12 - This isn't eye booger, this is NOSE booger!!!!!

Please note 13 - You motherfucker. 

Please note 14 - That's rude! You dicks.

Please note 15 - Warn a guy if a giant living thimble is about to shoot nose boogers.

Please note 16 - Ah man, anyone got a tissue? 

Please note 17 - Everyone stop pointing at me, and laughing. You're supposed to be my friends, you should know what type of pointing you can employ without making me sad, and this ISN'T IT! 

Please note 18 - today's message brought to you by 'Sewing - fun AND dangerous, ESPECIALLY if you protect your finger from pricking, but also sew mostly in nuclear waste*'

Please note 19 - *trademark slogan.

Please note 20 - No number 20, we're wrapping up now.

Please note 21 - Yaaaaayyy, these notes can now drink in America, let's hit VEGAS! 

He wasn't sure why - A Poem

Kyle asked how much it cost for a small chocolate milk.

He wasn't sure why he asked. 

He didn't like chocolate. 

It was too sweet.

He didn't like milk.

It was too cow uddery.

He didn't like chocolatized milk. 

It was too much like a combination of the previous two things.

He didn't like small sized things.

If something is desirable why not get a large version of it? 

He didn't like paying for stuff.

It cost money.

He didn't like the word 'cost'. 

It sometimes sounded like 'caused' to him.

He didn't like causing things.

Because then he'd have to take responsibility.

He didn't like taking responsibility for things, because he thought taking things was tantamount to stealing. 

He didn't like questioning people.

Because that would require requesting an answer.

He didn't like requesting answers because that was tantamount to intrusion.

He didn't like intrusion.

Because it reminded him of things that are uddery.

No he wasn't sure at ALL why he asked how much it cost for a small chocolate milk.

But the young cute redhead waitress with the adorable smile, sweet generous eyes, and amply visible bosom answered anyway. 

She really is good at her job.

I can see why we hired her. 

The Water Bottle - A poem

The water bottle came alive.

It wasn't happy.

It had no eyes.

Or limbs.

Or brain.

And people kept drinking it's insides.

Pretty shit for it to come alive. 

Really cruel God.

Hope you're proud of yourself. 

Yummy Sandwiches

Jenny was relieved that her doormat had been stolen.

It had been given to her by a recent ex.

An ex who made sandwiches for a living.

Really, really, freakishly good sandwiches.

The type of sandwiches that made people suspicious.

'I can get all these ingredients, but I can't make them as awesome as this, there must be something else in these sandwiches that you're not telling us about these sandwiches' they'd think.

While stuffing their faces with sandwiches. 

'Is your boyfriend going to be there?' Friends would ask when Jenny invited them over for sandwiches.

She knew they didn't want to come unless the answer was yes, because they wanted HIS sandwiches. 

Sometimes she'd go to visit him at work and her friends would be there eating sandwiches. 

Sometimes her friends would plan picnics and invite her hoping for him to come and bring sandwiches.

Sometimes she'd enter the room and her friends would suddenly go 'Shhhh, shhhhh' and she knew they'd been talking about his sandwiches. 

And by 'sandwiches' she of course 'epic erections'. 

She just couldn't bare to say it out loud any more. 

So yes Jenny was relieved that her doormat had been stolen. 

She was less happy that her TV was missing, a bag of flour was congealing in her fish tank and that the last page of all her books had been removed. 

But that's what you get when you convince your gigalo boyfriend to fire his pimp and go solo. 

Also siphilis. 

The Hawk and Condor Arm of Operations

Here at Fleeting Forever we have many areas of operations and sections of expertise, obviously our entertainment production, poetry, essays and general blogging departments are world famous and brilliantly flawless, but we also have the less well known Giant Kite Division, our Assistant To Office Assistant's In Charge Of Training Assistants For Assistant Assistants Department, our New Types Of Pants Development Wing, the Is That Really Your Ear, What Happened To It? Sector, the Things We Wish Could Exist If Not For Fucking Science Branch, and much, much more.

Well our founder, CEO and captor, David Tieck, has asked some of us to come on here and introduce ourselves and let you all know a bit more about the wonderful operation we have here.

So here goes, my name is Carmichael Sand, and I am the head of our Hawk And Condor Arm Of Operations. I have been in my present role for three years now, ever since the previous head, John Damper, came to work one day wearing a handcrafted mouse imitating shirt sleeve his kid had made from him, which was obviously quickly popped off by LambTail, our alpha Hawk, leading to John being shifted to the I Have One Arm, And That’s Okay Division, which thankfully also led to my promotion. It was a fun day, I even didn't mind when LambTail puked a finger on me.

I also spend one day a week helping out in the Buildings I Wish They'd Built Instead Of That Monstrosity Over There Segment, which is nice, because a diverse work life is a fun work life.

In my spare time I'm a homiletic type of guy.

And this is a statement I am willing to stand behind, proudly. And when you're standing behind a statement itself, that takes guts, because it's merely an idea, or sentiment, rather than a physical organism, so if you're not wearing any pants, as I like to be in statement declaring mode, people will see your bits, which I'm less into, a conundrum that has kept me many a time from strong and impassioned statement making.

I'm sure many of you will have read in the news about the day I boldly declared 'I wish to be pelted with pears' only to suddenly hear a mob of green grocers screaming 'aim for his dick!' Ironically that was the day my 'pair' became a giant single swelled bruised and throbbing monolith, which ironically made pant wearing impossible for six weeks, leading to one of the great statement declaration marathons seen since the ancient Babylonians discovered statement making.

Example of a classic Babylonian statement:

'We don't care how we're remembered, how many know what we were called, or represented, or what we invented physically or ideologically, just please remember where we are located, it's very important to us'.

Yes declarations can be powerful, that one in particular is carved into the wall above reception in Fleeting Forever's Where The Fuck Was Ancient Babylon, How Is This Not Well Known? And How Is It Not A Tourist Mecca Like Mecca? Branch, which itself is a subdivision of the Aztecs, They Sound Cool, What Else Is Cool Like That? Department.

Which all goes to make that above statement, about being homiletic, even bolder. For I have stepped back behind the invisible podium, testicles swinging free, green grocers as far as the eye can see, and I am risking it all and making a declaration once again, all this despite not knowing what the word 'homiletic' even means.

Sure I could look it up. But that's not my style! I'm a risk taker, I'm a wild man, I'm a swooner and a ragamuffin, plus having just broken that very sentiment I have discovered that one definition of 'homiletic' is the delivery of sermons, something I would NEVER do!

So I want to thank David Tieck for this opportunity to talk to you all, and tell you about me, and it was nice to meet you all. As for me right now, I'm racing around to the Buildings I Wish They'd Built Instead Of That Monstrosity Over There Segment, it's not my scheduled day there, but I just looked out the window and saw a square building, and I really want the officially submit 'I wish they'd built a round one'.

Wire Face - A Poem

Her belly was full and sore and misshapen. 

Her throat was bleeding. 

Her teeth were chipped and broken. 

Piano wire stuck out from all corners of her face. 

She had really really really misunderstood what the legendary keys man had meant when he said 'if you want to be a great piano player you have to have piano inside of you'

I mean what a moron.

Who eats a piano? 

It's just dumb.

Clearly he meant figuratively. 

This chick was dumber than buying a dog in hope to use it as a housecleaner. 

Her plan was as foolish as saving up trillions of dollars to buy the Great Wall of china to try and stop Shelly in accounting from using your teacup. 

She was stupider than covering your testicles in honey next to a fire ant nest hoping that your screams in pain will attract a crowd that you can now sell encyclopedias to. 

She was more idiotic than covering your front lawn in green plastic army men with the intent of their heroics inspiring you to finally tell your boss that you think we're all made of fairy dust memories and that therefore you should be able to howl at clients if you desire.

She was as doltish as your average chalk eating, glass monkey sculpting, tennis lawyer

, who thinks waxing stations would make good money laundering traps for warmongering toy yacht enthusiasts.

Ok that one's actually genius.

But SHE was just imbecilic.

Although she does now make a killing on the competitive eating circuit. 

I guess the lesson is raw talent matters. 

Tough Times - A Poem

Madeline Richter had a problem.

Her newly invented laser device, the Funger, was so powerful and useful (it could erase memories, it could erase buildings, it could erase governments, it could erase cellulite and it could even erase blame!) that it seemed like she pretty much had to take over the world now. 

Because otherwise her invention wouldn't live up to its potential.

'Ah man, I'll have to pick a second in charge' she thought 'Stephie's my bestie, but Karen is far better at paperwork, typing and unyielding ruthlessness, how do I pick?' She thought.

'If I pick one, the other will get pissed off, and I'll already have the 4.3 billon people who will survive the "great erasing" super angry with me' She thought.

Being a leader sure is hard. 

Plus she wasn't happy with the name she'd given her invention.

Funger? What the hell is that? 

So she had two problems really.

Oh also her friend Tracey had borrowed her Game of Thrones season 2 DVD and neglected to return it within the agreed upon time frame, and she was now going to have to make an awkward phone call.

So three problems. 

Oh, and she was getting her period.

Four problems. 

Although she took offense to a man writing that. 

It's not up to him to declare whether or not her period should be considered a problem.

Sure it's not pleasant, but it's a natural part of her body.

Then again so is snot, that doesn't mean having a lot of it is not a problem. 

Oh so now he's implying there's a LOT of her period?

I know he's not literally saying that.

But implication can be powerful. 

So that's now five problems.

Plus she was having trouble keeping count of all her problems.

So that's eight problems all up. 

She really was having a tough day.

But it wasn't all bad.

Her annoying ex, Greg, had mysteriously disappeared. 

So that's good. 

'And tomorrow it'll be a similar tale for every building north of Arizona' she thought.  

Fly, FLY!

I had an interesting chat today with my good friend Reven, the Bear Headed Raven. 

Well 'chat' is too kind a word, it was really a debate, and by debate I mean vicious argument that had us both bleeding from the ears, and mind you, that's not an entirely awful thing, I wasn't sure if Reven had ears or not. I mean he physically has ears, bear ears, but frankly I'm never sure which parts of him are crow, which parts are bear and which parts are just for show. But that's just part of the parcel in befriending one of these modern hybrid animals. Some mystery, some intrigue, some 'what the hell is THAT oozing from THAT thing'. 

Its fun, it keeps things fresh, but you really hope and try to keep those unique elements to the physical, physiological and phycopathic levels, you don't weird shit oozing from their weird orifices, and other bizarre hybrid animal activity.

Well, you all know how it goes, I don't need to explain it, your bunny faced Salamander drowns, and suddenly you were supposed to 'know' it couldn't breathe in full cafe sized tub of Nutella with no holes poked in the lid? I'm not a scientist friend. Well I am, but I mostly focus on the social sciences, like sociology of personality judging, chemistry between chemicals dueling over a girl, the physics of hat hair, biology and the mathematics that defined the Beat Generation, so I can't be expected to also understand biology! 

Anyway, Reven and I were watching an action movie, where the hero was using action to defeat the bad guys.

Sample dialogue: 

Bad guy - 'You won't stop me!' 

Hero - 'Yeah I will!' 

Bad guy - 'Oh yeah, how?'

Hero - 'Talking!' 

Bad guy - 'That doesn't work on me, look try it'

Hero - 'Ok, um, give yourself in and you'll get a slightly smaller sentence!' 

Bad guy - 'No'

Hero - 'Ah shit, that was my big move' 

Bad guy - 'I know, that's always the big move, that's why I said you won't catch me!' 

Hero - 'Ah yeah? Well, I'm going to dig deep within, and even though I'm normally just a file clerk, it will turn out that I can run fast without instantly snapping my hamstring, and if I can do that, I can take you down with ACTION!' 

Bad guy - 'Not action?' 

Hero - 'Yep.... Action!!!'

Bad guy - 'I can't handle action, I give  myself in!!!'

It was a kick ass movie. Until the debate began. 

Me - 'You know what'?

Reven - 'What?'

Me - 'If that guy hadn't given himself in, and had instead of gone out on a ledge to get away, but then discovered that the ledge didn't go all around, it would have been kick ass if the hero then yelled "your shit out of ledge", right?'

Reven - 'Um, NOT right, why would that kick ass?'

Me - 'Cause it's like a pun on "shit out of luck"'

Reven - 'But he wasn't even in a building'?

Me - 'Yeah, but if he had have been'

Reven - 'But he wasn't!'

Me - 'THAT's NOT THE POINT, I'm saying IF he was you dick!' 

Reven - 'Well if he was, then he he could just fly off the ledge'

Me - 'Yeah, right. Cause flights a thing that exists in the world'

Reven - 'I can fly!' 

Me - 'No way'.

Reven - 'Of course I can, I'm raven bodied, you don't know me at all!!!'

Me - 'Ok, well what's THAT oozing out of THAT!' 

Reven 'It's goful wax oozing out of my glendlehyde'.

And that's when I shoved him in he Nutella jar. Yep, friendship sure is hard. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, who wants chocolate pancakes, I have secret ingredient! Zing.

Monster Castle - A Poem

Wally was starting to feel foolish.

For sixth months now he'd been living in The Gothic House, or 'Monster Caslte' as it was known to locals. 

This was the dog-house sized medieval castle within Tovella Fountains.

Located in Killkenny Park, in Danga Danga, New South Wales Australia.

It was known as 'Monster Castle' not because of the gargoyles that anointed it, but for the fact teenagers used to trick younger kids into climbing inside to 'see a monster' only to often find themselves walking in on a 'circle jerk' session by the local football team. 

All in all the town were largely happy with how they'd spent their entire millienum arts budget.

Tourists did flock by to see it in numbers occasionally reaching double figures a year.

And after the bank of port-a-loos were installed adjacent to it, it now was only urinated in a dozen or so times a day. 

Wally cared not for any of that though.

The football players had stopped coming by to watch each other jerk off after he had discovered the funnel-web spiders nest and trained the babies to be his penis charging army.

And the teenagers had stopped tricking younger kids to go in there after Wally had built a shield made from the peeling testicle skin of dying football players.

And so now all that he needed was for 'Heltro - The Magic Wizard Warlock' to show up.

He'd been promised by his uncle Johnson that if he moved into the castle Heltro would show.

No time frame was given at the time, but Wally had begun to have doubts after four months.

And now six months in those doubts had evaporated and formed into a cloud, that now rained a feeling of foolishness on him.

Wally no longer believed that Heltro would show. 

But leaving without seeing him was a failure he couldn't face quite yet.

How would he explain what he'd been doing all this time with no end result to point towards? 

His attempts to think of a saving face solution were also a failure.

He was instead becoming bitter.

At the town.

At the fountain.

At Heltro.

But mostly at his uncle Johnson who had made this promise.

Wally knew he should never have trusted him.

He didn't have an uncle Johnson for starters.

Plus uncle Johnson was a sheep, and as far as he knew he didn't have sheep in his family tree.

Although his Nanna Gretna had looked a little Marinoesq in her last few years.

He carried around a handkerchief knitted from her chin hairs to remember her. 

Now that he thought about it the first time he'd seen uncle Johnson was when he had that flu, and was pumping himself full of meds and blowing his nose like crazy into Nanna Gretna's handkerchief. 

Maybe this was all Nanna Gretna's fault? 

'Oh screw this' he thought.

'I only wanted Heltro to show so I could ask him to send a message to Nanna Gretna'

'But THIS is how she repays me?'

Right then and there Wally threw his handkerchief out the window, where it flew like a Frisbee, and then lodged itself in a tree like a ninja star. 

A bird came and perched on it.

Then immediately puked.

And Wally finally left 'Monster Castle' cursing under his breath 'fuck you Nanna, you sweet old cunt'.

On his way out he tripped on his twelve inch toenails.

And suffocated in a massive puddle of years old football player splooge.

Knowing things is good

'Alloying of the human torso had become rife. I mean not as bad as the pearling of the human foot, or the humaning of the average monkeys pearl collection, but still significant enough to be mentioned in magizines. Sure they were niche magazines, with tiny readerships, and sure in those ariticles the alloying was treated with disdain 'sure it looks cool, for an hour, and then you realize you're too heavy to ever stand up again, unless you've really been doing your leg exercises, and let's face it, most people attracted to the alloying lifestyle have not' would scream the headlines. Single handily making the alloyers seem dumb, while also making the editors in charge of the magazine's headlines seem unwilling to cut down to managable, and intelligent sizes, while also reinventing the term 'single handedly' to mean multiple handed things, but only if you interpret them strangely' I said to my boss. 

Seconds later my 'personal day' request was honored! It was totally worth the six months research into weird sub-cultures and niche magazine history too. Cause guess what I did with that day off? Yep. I TOTALLY tried on pants. Didn't buy any, cause they looked dumb, but how'd I have known otherwise?