A message from Thomas

A message from Thomas. 

With all this talk of pets in the news this week, and it has been delightful, I

think we all particularly enjoyed the story of the man who owned a dog, it was quite special, but I've personally been a little nostalgic, a little sad, and a little bit very much upset.

You see, I used to have a pet. And it was the most marvelous and splendid time of my life. 

This was many years ago, I was a naive little child, practically a baby still, no older than fifteen or sixteen years old. Still wet behind the ears, for I didn't yet own a towel, I was still patchy skinned, for I didn't know yet that you were not supposed to wash your face with methylated spirits, and I was still pig nosed, for I didn't know yet that standing with your nose pressed against the wall pointing upwards for six to ten hours a day was possibly only the fifth or sixth most fun thing to do in a windowless, furnitureless, light free room. 

I'd been begging my parents for a pet to love for years, and they'd always say the same thing 'we don't love you, so what makes you think pet would?' They were sweet being honest with me. Some parents lie to their kids, not mine. 'But ME, I can still love it!' I'd plead, 'it wouldn't want your love' they'd reply. They sure were swell. 

Although it turned out all this generous honesty was just a ruse, for one day, out of the blue, they brought me home my very own pet to love. 

Sure it was full of soup cans when I first saw it, but I knew that the soup wasn't the real thing they'd brought home for me, because they'd never fed me before, instead making sure 'I learned to forage for mould, moss and silverfish'. Which is how I'd become so self reliant.

So I knew, the real gift was the box, a pet cardboard box just for me. I could see its little cardboard ears flapping the second it came home, and I raced to it and gave it the biggest hug I'd ever given anything. Of course at that time I thought a 'hug' was when someone slapped you in the head with their most ringed up hand. But I wasn't wearing any rings, as I wasn't at that time allowed possessions, so I tried something else, where I put my arms around it. It felt a bit faggy at the time, but at the time 'faggy' was what my parents called me when I asked what I'd be when I grew up, and so I knew it was something that meant 'strong'.

In fact my hug was so faggy that all the soup fell out. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise, for one of the soup cans got a tiny dent in it, and as a reward for being so faggy, my parents locked me in the small closet under the stairs for six months, a perfect amount of time to get to know my new pet box better, for of course they were sweet enough to let him stay in there with me. 

I named him 'Roger' and we had the best most ace time ever. We did everything together. Pooping and peeing our pants. Eating an old pair of skis. Drinking Windex. Wondering if our legs were supposed to be developing gaping wounds big enough to fit a fist into. Hide and seek. Although I always let Roger win at hide and seek. And if I'm honest Roger always let me win at the pooping, ski eating, Windex drinking and gangrenous legs games, that's the kind of buddies we were.

One day I blacked out from hunger, disease and from vomiting blue plastic and when I woke up Roger was ON MY HEAD! He was so silly.

Of course after six short months, my parents let us out, and greeted me with a big faggy hug. It was swell. My lip began bleeding and everything! 

That was the day Roger and I first went out to play together. Play being what I called it when my parents let me clean their toilet with a toothbrush and then after use it to brush teeth. Roger was so helpful, he sat and watched the whole time, which was way more help that my parents who spent that time flicking lit matches at me. My parents were the best people in the world, and here was Roger being even less skin burning than them! 

I knew for sure we'd be best buddies for ever. 

But sometimes forever doesn't even last forever. 

Six weeks later my parents let me have my first bath ever! I'd been a good boy and let them use me as a tennis ball for a few hours, and they were so nice and let me next play a game called 'holding Thomas's head under water till his frantic fighting for air dulls down to a deep black out, only to rewaken him by pissing in his face'. It was a swell game. 

I begged them to let Roger play too, and so they threw him in the bath with me. He looked so peaceful floating in that misty cloud of water, rancid beef juice, my blood and three of my teeth, which had fallen out 'finally my third set of teeth were ready to come in!' I was so happy.

But then, when I stood up from the bath, and lifted Roger with me, HIS ASS SPLIT IN TWO AND HUNG DOWN BELOW HIM!!!

I screamed 'he's dead, he's dead, he's dead, he's dead, my best friend is dead!' And my parents laughed and laughed. I guess it was kind of funny. THEY were my best friends after all. Roger was merely the first thing that had ever loved me.

To reward me for my sense of humor my parents then soaked Roger in lighter fluid in front of me, then lit him on fire and right as he was fully ablaze, chucked him in my face. Then they gave me faggy hugs till blood poured down my face and I passed out.

I woke up back in my favorite little closet, but it wasn't the same without Roger. So the day that the hole in my leg went all the way through and my foot fell off, I snuck out and put it in my parents soup. 

Soon they were taken to somewhere called the 'hospital' and when their stomachs we're pumped and my foot parts came out they were taken somewhere called the 'big house' which sounds like a swell place, I hope they're happy. And now I live home alone. 

It's not all sad for me though, because I always get to think about Roger, it's hard not to, seeing as half of him ended up melting into my face. And because of that, in a little way, Roger and I really WILL be together forever! 

I sure do love happy endings, I hope you do too. 

The End 

Silver lights

I think if I've learned anything from movies, and I haven't - movies are for entertainment, not learning, if you've been learning stuff then you've been doing it wrong my friends, unless of course you've been watching educational movies, in which case I take back everything I've said so far, except the word 'think' cause that's a real word, and I don't take back things that are real. Like if you gave someone a tree, you can't take that back, but if you gave someone sass you can take it back from this way till Sunday sister cause sass ain't no real thing, unless you name like a smoldering bag and shoe something your 'sass' look, but then why would you have ever given that to someone? It was smoldering, that means it's recently been on fire, and you shouldn't give people stuff that still in a rehabilitation stage, that's just making them do the work that you refuse to do. 

The lessons are clear: 

- Give someone a tree for a present. Sure it mocks them for their inability  to afford the land to plant it in, but it also offers them a commitment that will potentially last centuries after their death, almost forcing them to enter purgatory post death, and saving them from the need to choose and properly worship a god here on earth. 

- Don't light your shoes and bag on fire, I get that you want them to match, but if those are your main criteria why not just cover them with matching paper mâché, or bleed all over both, or just burn your own hair off so no one will notice them. 

- Movies are ace, they teach us so much. 

- You can't 'think' something that you didn't first already think about at another time, unless you're currently thinking about it now for the first time, and let's face it if it's worth thinking about now you'll probably find yourself thinking about it again some time in the future.  

Today's blog was brought to you by - Confusing and Contradictory - your one stop shop for everything easy to understand and obvious.

Wait shouldn't it be everything confusing contradictory? 

But that's the easy to understand and obvious description. 

Oh fuck, it must be so hard I work there. 

 

No it's not.

....

...

Unbridled Enthusiasm

'Stace, you're acting mopey' I said to my friend Stace, having finally put a pin in what I thought her emotional state was. 

It had been a long ride, I'd guessed wrong a hundred times already, but it turned out the journey wasn't over yet, she didn't respond, or even nod, it seemed I was still going to have to find some guesses up my sleeve. 

'No? Or maybe you're just sad and stubborn, is that it'? I continued.

'I'm...' She tried to interject.

'No no no you're feeling forlorn?'

'I'm just...'

'SHUT UP, I'll get it, just give me a few more guesses, sorrowful?'

'Pleas...'

'Perturbed, it's got to be perturbed?'

'Seriou...'

'I said fucking be quiet, I'm trying to guess here. Um fretfully agitated? No irksome and irritated?'

'David...'

'Exacerbated with extreme umbrage and emotionally pre-occupied with the plague of bothersomeness?'

'I just...'

'Maladjusted? Scorned? Despondent? Bleak? Some other words impressively sourced without use of a thesaurus? Log cabin fevered? Critically blue with comfortlessness? Frustrated and drearisomely gloomy? Bogged down in sullen wintry unhappiness?'

'No, I'm..'

'Shut up damn it, I'm trying to fucking guess here!'

'Morosely maladjusted with much milieu?'

'I...'

'Stomach acid tinged, sandalwood blasted levels of Mongolian inspired melancholy?'

'Y...'

'Harebrained, marrow sucked, juxtaposed, loon faced, disconcerted dismay?'

'P...'

'Oh please, please stop interrupting me, I'm trying to guess your God damn emotional state for fucks sake!' I yelled. 

'...'

'Unhooked, heal-poked, garbage juiced, dwindling customer serviced, crime created, rainwater flushed, chandelier falling, development proposed, ill-disciplined induced, ice-sculptured, donkey breathed, dread-locked, moments of miserableness, peppered with gargantuan glass thrown, fully harnessed, judgmentally thirst quenching, crest crawling, arm severing, scandalous and scrumptious scorn, with hieroglyphical levels of hysteria hyphenated with hyperventilating unharnessed heroic humidity escalating hypersensitive, histrionic......' This last guess was to continue for several more hours. 

 

Anyway, Stace was in some sort of bad mood, 

I never did figure out why. 

Old as dust - poem

The oldest man in the world suddenly jolted upright in bed. 

'Oh fuck' he thought 'since I was born literally every other human on earth that was alive is now dead'.

'There have been a lot of unsolved murders in that time, I'm probably a prime suspect!' 

'Where are your alibis sir?' They'll ask.

'All dead' 

'Oh fuck'. 

'There's only one thing I can do - kill everyone'

And so begun one of the biggest slaughters in the history of the world. 

By which I mean he climbed out of bed, put on his slippers, took a weak shit and ate a bowl of soup. 

He was a hundred and thirty two! What did you think he was going to do? 

By Hand - A Poem

Richard Hoaks refused to wear any clothes that were not hand knitted.

Hand knitted pants.

Hand knitted shoes.

Hand knitted underpants. 

This caused his mother no end of stress in acquiring enough yarn. 

Eventually she started to make her own from shaving possums, raccoons and skunks.

It turned out Richard was only the second biggest psycho in the household. 

Or so he thought. 

As he scratched his inexplicably itchy scrotum.

It was a nice reprieve from focusing on the bloody stumps that were his feet after the end of soccer season.   

Lettuce Learn

We've all been there before, you've just made a very special trip to the supermarket to buy a head of lettuce, and you get home and discover ...(Dum dum dum)... The fridge was already full! 

Suddenly all sorts of thoughts race through your mind like a car race full of cars racing other cars that look like they're the same type of car but end up being vastly different types of cars, at least based on how fast they can race, thoughts like:

- Ah man

- seriously?

- Crap 

And sometimes even...

- Ah crap, seriously? 

But I'm here to tell you, it's not the end of the world, no no no, it's not, it just FEELS that way. And feelings are often valid, so even though right now I am about to suggest your feelings in this scenario are not valid, I don't want you to stop having feelings all together, and just to make sure of it, here are three things that should make you have feelings:

1. Floods, like really bad ones.

2. The price of potato chips made from organically sourced potatoes. 

3. A tiny little kitten or puppy, depends on your personal preferences, or even a baby bunny, turtle or pigmy giraffe, sitting in your lap, and it can speak English, and it now says 'I'm the one who stole your campervan'.

Alright, you should all be feeling feelings now. If you ARE currently feeling feelings then feel free to forage ahead in this blog. If not please seek help. And then once you get one of those fancy feeling facilitating injections they sell down the ally behind the liquor store you may return and then read ahead. 

Let's take a quick pause and wait for the people in scenario two...

...

...

Alright we're back. Doesn't that feel great to feel stuff? Good for you. Ok, NOW STOP FEELING LIKE IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD THAT YOUR HEAD OF LETTUCE WONT FIT IN THE FRIDGE! 

Look, I get it. You saw on TV, a healthspert, saying 'eat more salad or you may not live beyond a hundred' and you've thought 'but what about my dreams of banging Dakota Fanning's grandkids'! We've all been there. So you race, RACE, to the supermarket, just like the cars we mentioned earlier, and you've bought yourself a beautiful, bulbous, big, juicy, throbbing head of iceberg lettuce, and you've promised yourself to eat at least the outside three layers, and now disaster has struck. But you DO have options, and here they are:

- Sometimes people dump refrigerators on the side of the road, and occasionally these refrigerators have doors, no blood from murder victims in the crevices, and even motors. Simply haul one back to your house and stick your lettuce head in there.

- In certain areas beyond the Arctic-circle, on top of the Himalayas, and inside lawyers hearts (zing) the temperature never gets above freezing, just stick your lettuce head in one of those spots. 

- Experts say that if you've gone more than six months without regularly eating salad and then eat a whole head of lettuce you're an idiot, and will probable get diarrhea, wouldn't it feel nice to prove an expert right for a change? YOU get to be right in your job occasionally you selfish dicks, experts NEVER get to experience this. 

- Grab ten bottles of beer, your lettuce and a hallway and you've got bowling! Wow your lettuce us getting you active, that's a health win! (Rules:  every bottle you get down your opponent chugs. Every bottle you miss you chug, Boom).

- Remember if you pass on banging Dakota Fanning's kids you can chuck the lettuce out, grab a slab of bacon and focus on her kids. Or even her. She's only like nineteen herself you animals. Eat your bacon and have a nice long think about yourself. 

- You can easily pull your lettuce apart layer by layer and cover your passed out roommate in them for a fun practical joke. Remember if your really want the joke to sing you'll need to staple in each leaf in place.

- Or just take up illegal street car racing, by the end of the week you, and three innocent school kids walking home from killing it in their science exams will be dead, and you don't need lettuce in hell! Actually it's probably nothing But salads in hell, why did you ever want to eat it here too? 

So there you go, your disaster has been mitigated. Well I'm off, I hear Mike down the ally behind the liquor store has a new injection that can make you feel sound! I'm sure I'll see you all down there. 

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.