When seven is two too few - a poem

When seven is two too few - a poem 

Sometimes I think I could finally find fulfillment and contentment from life if I could just think of two more reasons to be thankful for cows.

This has been an example of a time when seven is two too few

The end. 

And now, as asked, nay DEMANDED, by all who read the above poem, here are seven reasons to be thankful for cows

1. Dairy products. Diary products are delicious and nutritious, and you can't enjoy a nice salad with bacon bits and goat cheese without first thanking the cow for his farm friends  the goats and the bacons.

2. Beef. You got beef with your neighbor? That's because he had the volume WAY to loud on this meat smoker.

3. Leather. Who amongst us doesn't occasionally put on a leather jumpsuit and drop a couple of squirrels down the neck hole for fun?

4. The colors black and white, first invented by the side of cows (At least this is what I've been arguing for years, fuck the current 'official' first. I'm adamant that the time a white horse fell down a well merely invented white and very, very, very blackish looking purple!) 

5. Buckets of cow piss. Buckets are great receptacles to get rid of your cow piss. 

6. Moo. An awesome word for bullies to cruelly taunt the overweight kids at school, ultimately leading them to murder those bullies, leaving us inbetweeners all the time in the world to yell 'koo-koo' at people who forgot to climb the local tall dude.

7. Lists. First invented to list reasons to be thankful for cows. 

Comeback attack

'You're possum brained' she said to me

'No I'm not' I replied, with a smile on my face due to the witty and accurate comeback I'd conjured. 

It hadn't been the first comeback I'd thought of 'if I'm so possum brained then how come I fell out the tree tonight and broke my arm?' Was my first instinct.

'And since when do possums eat six T-bone steaks, breaking the restaurant's record, then get the meat sweats and decide it's a good idea to climb a tree to try and puke on a statue of the guy who discovered the local ravine?' I knew I'd need to add. So I brushed it. Too wordy. And words are bite killers. I knew I needed bite in this comeback. Lots of bite.

'I'll fucking bite your face off' I next considered. I nearly said it too. But then it occurred to me, I bet possums bite people's faces off from time to time. Which would be badass 'how'd you lose your face?'

'Got bit off by a possum!'

'That's badass'

Would be how that went down. 

Yep definitely badass.

But then it occurred to me I was trying to make it seem like I wasn't possum brained, and a come back that did nothing but reflect possum brained activities would possibly undermine that.

'You suck' I considered briefly. But then I thought 'nah, save that one for later. Wait, maybe some time that she's drinking from a straw, hell yeah, that would kick major badassity AND hilarity'. So I saved it. You never know when you'll need a badass and hilarious line when someone you know is drinking from a straw. But you do know that it WILL happen one day. Planning is good sometimes. That's a lesson for all of you. Ever got lost chasing after your own shadow? Of course you have, we all have, that sucker is so damn hard to catch. But you wouldn't have if you'd 'planned' to go out at night during a citywide blackout on a very cloudy night that day instead. That's a tick for planning for damn sure.

'No I'm not' was my next thought. And I didn't even need to think about this one. Witty - tick. Biting - tick. Makes you think of possums biting off people's faces - no tick. 

It was a no brainer. And no brainers are my bread and what's it, that yellow stuff.

'Nice come back' she snapped back. 

Yep, I'd won this one. Turned out to be a pretty great honeymoon after all. 

Bathed in them!

I went to the slap shop today. 

No not that one. 

YES that one! 

And no NOT that one.

I already said the second one was right, why'd you keep guessing? 

That's weird dude. 

Yeah, sorry, you're not ready for stories about slap shops.

Slap shop stories are only for people who stop guessing things once they have already found their answer.

And it's a shame because this slap shop story is a doozy, which is 80s sitcom talk for 'really fucking badass'.

But your over guessing is going to cut you out sorry.

That's just the rule.

And I don't make them.

Not anymore at least.

I retired from the slap store story governing body six whole weeks ago.

Although obviously this particularly rule we're discussing came in under my stewardship.

But not specifically to fuck up your life. 

It hasn't always been this way of course.

Who could forget the wonderful case of Johnson, Cliche Name, Johnson. He BATHED in slap store stories, and he once guessed that the Duck Billed Platypus would one day also grow a goose bill, even after his previous guess, 'Duck Bill Platypus will one day grow a hat that is comfortable but probably not good at keeping the sun from his neck' was declared 'yeah, probably'. A guessing on that bothered a LOT of people. I mean they're just called 'Platypus', the duck bill is a guarantee, it doesn't need to be specified, there ARE no duck bill-less platypus. 

But he guessed on and so did you. And here we are.

Which is a shame because I like you. 

I really like you.

And this slap shop story is great. 

Really great. 

I'm guessing you're pissed off now. 

Yes?

Exactly.

I'm guessing that your smiling now.

See what I did there.

I guessed on.

Now you feel the pain.

Well I think we all learned some things today:

- If you're named Johnson people hate you.

- If you're a platypus with a duck bill AND a goose bill, lift that hat up, we want to see.

- I like you.

- Awww.

Flop Heavy

Bill bought a blue shirt.

That stupid damn, dinglefaced, scar smelling, gargantuanlly biscuit minded, suitcase with no wheels even though it's very very heavy, tree that grows coconuts but doesn't grow coconut opening knives or machetes, tile stained with flop sweated, jalapeño flavored hair cut, tumble weed inspired phlegm fighting, yes man even when no is the clear answer due to logistical, beurocratic and unfashionable yet constitunally reprehensible in a no good way, fat wallet with seeds for no longer popular plants, simple eyed, fenced from leg warming long socks on a cold, breezy and heavy locust swarming swimming hole imagination vacationed, monkey titted but male titties, vacuous, poor at judging and planning in regards to likely weather conditions likely to be faced, like a teddy bear with one foot slightly smaller than the other but not in a cute way, using a moisturizer not ideally suited to his particular skin type, dumb, stupid, idiot, moronic, dumb, idiotic stupid dumb moron! 

Oh wait, no, sorry, it was Belle who's viciously deathly allergic to the color blue, never mind.

Fuck, I should probably should uninvite her to my pool party this weekend, I heard there's going to be sky. 

Down low - A Poem

Luke Noft was SO the opposite of uptight that he'd begun to be low-loose! 

Then one day a relaxing tune came on the radio and he melted. 

They screamed - a poem

Phil wanted to know if he was loved.

So he picked a flower.

And began picking off petals.

Asking,

Nay, stating,

Nay, BEGGING!

'She loves me'!

'She loves me not!'

'She LOVES me!'

'She loves me NOT!'

With each petal picked.

The insane damn gambling rogue! 

Everyone who saw this display of desperation and affection was moved.

Nay, inspired!

Nay, on the seat of their, well feat, this was in a garden, there were no chairs for them to be at the end of! 

The petals began to disappear rapidly.

The tension grew substantially. 

The hope expanded exponentially.

When finally.

Nay, eventually.

Nay fatally!!!

He reached the final petal.

'She loves me!!!!'

'She loves him!!!!'

'They LOVE one another!!!!!!'

The crowd roared. 

'Who's the lucky girl?'

'Nay lucky soul?'

'Nay lucky existence body of possibility hope!'

They SCREAMED!

'Oh I was seeing if that specific flower loved me'.

He said matter of factly.

That disembowering scumbag. 

Puddle with puddleness - A Poem

There are robots, and dinosaurs, and other types of robots, and some dinosaur looking things, it's the most exciting thing ever! 

Wait, wait, wait...

Do you mind if we take a brief break here and I tell you a couple of things about puddles? 

That's ok? 

And I should point out, before you answer, that I love puddles.

I LOVE them. 

I love how big and puddly they are.

I love how wet with water they are. 

I love how leafy with leaves they can be. 

I love how incecty with dead incects they can be.

I mean the things a puddle can be with a different way of saying itself are practically endless.

Depending on the width of the puddle of course.

I mean you get a narrow puddle diameter and it will NOT be wide with width.

Or even broad with breadth.

That's just fact fella. 

And you can bank that fact at the bank.

The fact bank.

Which, depending on your particular relationship with gullibility should be your brain.

Obviously if you are heavily gullible then you can't call your brain your fact bank.

Oh look, there you go again, believing a lie!

Are you a moron?

Of course 'you' can call it your fact bank.

You're a gullible person, which could be considered a sign that you are potentially on the the moron spectrum, so no one listens to you anyway, call it whatever the hell you want. 

Call it 'the source of 83.4% of the world's artificial seaweed' if you want. 

Who's going to stop you? 

Cal Burch, the artificial seaweed baron from New Orleans? 

And I know what you're thinking - 'you're testing my gullibility again aren't you?'

But no, this time I'm not, he's real.

And yes he WILL stop you.

Do you know how many people he's killed to become a true artificial seaweed baron?

Three! 

When he had them taste prototypes of his heavily chemical content artificial seaweed.

And obviously it wasn't INTENDED for human consumption.

Or even animal consumption.

It's mostly for show.

You know, because once you've heard someone say 'oh I love what you've done with the place, awesome artificial seaweed'

You want to KEEP hearing that. 

So is it ok if I talk about puddles? 

(Smile).

Thank you.

Here I go.

'Yay puddles'.

That was nice. 

Thanks.

Sorry about that moron stuff. 

You didn't deserve that. 

You've been nothing but kind and sweet to me.

We should hang out more. 

Are you keen? 

We could maybe meet in a dinosaurs mouth?

If we're super cute together the dinosaur may well 'aww' so hard that it drools! 

If it drools a lot, it might land on yet ground.

If it lands on the ground it may start a puddle! 

Yay puddles.

I love how dinosaur drool with dinosaur drooly they are! 

Watch out!

Next time a deadly hairy spider runs up your pant leg, instead of your normal reaction of crying, screaming, and blaming me - just because I'd once again brought a deadly hairy spider into the house and on the same day sewed a ball of mushed up flies into the inside of your pants, I want you to try taking a moment to think instead - suggested thoughts include:

- Hey the deadly hairy spider doesn't WANT to kill me, he just wants to eat some delicious mushed up flies.

- How does Dave get so many flies anyway?

- Does he keep them alive until he has enough to make a big enough ball, or just mush new ones to the existing ball as he goes?

- What holds that ball together, are flies insides a natural adhesive?

- If so, that's kind of cool, and possibly valuable information if I ever get lost in the woods. 

- Or even the outback of Australia, lots of flies out there! 

- If climate change floods the outside couple of hundred kilometers of the Australian continent, it won't be out back any more, it'll be like the front, ha ha that's gonna confuse some people.

- Confusing people is fun, wait - watch this - horticultural manufactured roman styled jovial restalation police from recent impish harpoonable witch quests, taste WAY better than an oysters sweat! 

- See people are confused, yet that statement is almost undeniably true. 

- Wow, you don't get that often.

- It's a unique, exciting, thought provoking, substitute for pharmaceutical enhancement, maniacal miracle! 

- Well that settles that.

- Now I'm HAPPY Dave ushered, nay midwifed, this glorious and fresh round of inspired, tomfoolery mimicking, excellence.

- God bless you David.

- And Allah bless you, and Xenu bless you, and Zen, you know the guy who works in the warehouse with the fish hook imbedded in his eye, bless you and even robot bless you.

- And don't get me started on robots as a deity, um inevitable people!

- But not here yet.

- For now let's worship Dave and his muse worthy usher skills that are so badass they could make making out at the movies obsolete. 

- You rule Dave.

- I'll never forget how much I look up to you.

- Oh holy hell, I think the spider just bit my hymen/ testicle bag, and the fact I can't think of the word 'scrotum' is, in this example, proof that I'm as virginal as the human option. 

So there you go people, you don't have to be a cliche see spider screamer, you're capable of WAY more! Plus don't worry if your hymen or male equivalent is gone but you still want to appear as having one, the adhesive released from mushing up flies makes an awesome duplicate! 

Ps. Seriously, it's call a 'hi men', no wonder the world is fucked. 

Even ice-cream! - A poem

One night Kevin tasted a chili so hot that his tongue literally caught on fire.

His saliva would have put it out...

But for the six hours that day he'd spent salivating outside a cute girl's bedroom window. 

'Ha ha' he thought, as his tongue began to turn to charcoal 'if she'd been at home today at all this might have been worth it!' 

He really had just a swell attitude for a steaming pile of shit. 

Ironically that's exactly what ALL food would taste like to him from that day on. 

Even ice-cream! 

Timing Plays It's Fiddle - A Poem

Herman claimed he could stare at the sun for hours on end without any ill effects.

‘Well prove it’ I said.

An hour and forty minutes later and his eyes POPPED.

The joke was on me though.

The exploding eye juice made me squeamish.

And right at the exact moment when it had become impossible to enjoy the look on his face as he saw me puke on his new sofa.

A conversation

Dan and Yuster had a conversation.

'What are you doing?' Asked Dan. 

'Huh?' Replied Yuster. 

And that was it.

Admittedly it wasn't much of a conversation. 

But in other ways it was. As questions literally went unanswered. Questions that were asked in the form of a questions. Questions like 'what are you doing?', what kind of a stupid name is "Yuster", is that like Yugoslavian or something, wait that's not even a country anymore, really makes you think, even things that seem stable, like entire nations, can dissolve, so this moment, this very moment, wow how fleeting, how beautiful, how unscientific, I mean science can't explain how this feels, can you science, CAN YOU?', and 'huh?'

Yep, questions sure were asked.

But in other ways more information was passed than perhaps any conversation could normally possibly pass other than by passing actual information. Yet isn't information that's passed that isn't actual information sometimes even more informative than other types of information, information like finding out that someone wants to know what someone else is doing, and that the someone they want to find out what are doing are too busy doing it to answer, and that obviously the someone who is asking should be able to just visually see what the person that's doing it is doing, especially seeing as this someone is close enough for the other someone to hear them asking that someone a question from the first someone's question asking hole. 

Yep, information sure was passed.

But in other ways an ambiguitous chasm between the polar opposites of information and question asking was exposed to the morning light, unless this was the afternoon, or not in an area lit with light, I mean we never found out when or where this happened, it could have been somewhere like Northern Norway where it could have been dark all day or light or night, I mean who knows, and no question was posed about it, and no information independently given, and no hieroglyphics were left behind to interpret, obviously this is no Yugoslavia, we sure are ambiguous about that. 

Yep, ambiguity chasms sure were tasked . 

So there you have it, Dan and Yuster had a conversation, and seconds later their entire universes were altered forever. 

Oh I should point out that Dan and Yuster are sperms, and this conversation took place moments before they were shot into Charlottes vaginal passage. 

Also I should point out that it totally turns out her husband's experiments with the microwave and cans of the sludge he found in the river ARE why they can't seem to get pregnant. 

The wall

He climbed on the wall. 

The wall made of brick.

The brick made of dung.

The dung made of left over Thai.

The left over Thai made from a variety of traditional ingredients native to its creators homeland.

The homeland being Thailand.

Thailand being the country in Asia occupied and managed by the Thai people, although at various times the area her ancestors came from was occupied by the Dutch, The Nippon Empire, The Ottoman Empire, The Sofa Empire (zing), the Germans (but only in their minds) The Thaisoils (a small group who rose up and took the nation briefly after realizing that technically if you buy 'land' it doesn't include the 'soil' on said land, which made them worriedly worry that Thailand didn't own his own soil), and the Chinese who realized Thailand at one point only owned their soil, so took the rest. 

The homeland made from tradition, gumption and a a remarkable ability to reclaim what was rightfully theirs.

The gumption made from patriotism. 

The patriotism made from lack of anything else to believe in. 

The lack of anything else to believe in made from history teachers lacking the ability to really inspire kids with their nations own history.  

The teachers made from made from broken up wall segments! 

By which I mean he tried to see if he could blow himself and cracked a rib, but told everyone he fell off a wall. Most people believed him, but I for one thought his explanation wasn't detailed enough. 

Misinterpreted

I bet the first person who took a leaf out of some else's book was all like...

'Well that was completely awesome, and just think, all I had to do was meet a stranger, spend a considerable amount of time, effort and even listening time earning his trust, then immediately breaking that guy's trust by stealing his keys, and then using them to get into his house, before then discovering that he didn't keep the keys to his bookshelf on the same set as the keys to his house, so returning the keys to him, pretending I'd just 'found them' even though that was illogical given that the place I claimed to find them was somewhere he'd never been, and yet insisting that I was now a hero, and that the baseball cap I'd left on his kitchen bench 'wasn't mine' even though it was the same as the one I wore all the time and suddenly stopped wearing around the time this 'other' baseball cap was strangely found in his house, yet still somehow re-earning his trust, enough so that I could find out that he kept the keys to his bookshelf in security box at the bank, then carefully, over a period of years, randomly getting silicone putty on various parts of his face, and peeling it off and keeping it, so to piece together a 3D jigsaw puzzle style a mould of his face, to use to ultimately create flawless prosthetics allowing me to look exactly like him, to imitate him at the bank, only to find out that his security box was protected by a series of very personal security questions, requiring me to pursue a torrid affair with his father, which was very difficult as neither of us were gay, requiring levels of seduction skills I never previously dared even imagine I had, which once discovered and engaged could be put to far more enticing explorations of the flesh game than banging this old man, but the option of starting an affair with his mother was tragically unavailable due to his mother being dead, and seven months in, after a passionate yet confusing love making session, using the vulnerability of post coital pillow talk to finally unlock the secret that the man had a scar on his forehead as a result of 'a bike accident', realizing I possibly could have skipped this step by just asking him how he got his scar, but knowing that doing so would have exposed me to potentially answering the question of how I got my own scar, which was from a skateboard accident, and could have totally undermined the trust I'd developed this whole time through a discovery of a lacking identical preferences when it came to childhood modes of fun self-propelled getting around in a transportation method scenario options, although I probably could have lied and also said a 'bike accident', but perhaps uncomfortable gay sex with a now very confused elderly man was less messy, and now once again donning my prosthetics, stealing that bookshelf key from the security box, then once again breaking into his house, this time sans baseball cap for safety, then unlocking the bookshelf, while thinking 'that's funny, it's only now that I realize that it's unusual for someone to lock their bookshelf', then thinking 'meh, maybe it's not that unusual, books are ace, and now I can TOTALLY read books I don't even own! Suck on that library and your disgusting "two forms of ID required to get a library card" rule, which is just stupid, unless a credit card can be the second type of ID, which makes sense, we all have a credit card and a license, I probably should have asked? Come to think of it do you even need a card to just look through the books?', then thinking 'meh, I don't need a card to look through THESE books', then flicking through a bunch of books, thinking 'meh, lots of sci-fi, I'm more of a cop drama guy', but then randomly finding a leaf in one, wondering 'why the hell is there a leaf in this?', pondering the question 'who cares why?', coming to the conclusion 'well I do', searching for meaning in that enlightening realization, discovering that this meaning was probably that the leaf mattered to him, hence keeping it in a book in a locked bookshelf, then realizing 'meh, that's stupid, if it mattered he'd probably have kept it in the security box at the bank, and therefore it clearly does NOT matter to him', then concluding 'meh, if it doesn't matter to him then it could be MINE', then adding 'I should stop all my ponders beginning with "meh" it undermines just how amazing some of my thoughts are, like this one, cause like I'm TOTALLY about to get myself a leaf, that's awesome!', and realizing 'that's normally not easy, you have to convince a tree to give you a leaf, which can be difficult because it's part of their body and like as if you'd give a tree a finger, or even a toe if it asked, or else just stealing a leaf from a tree, which is mean, I mean you'd hate it if tree stole a finger or even a toe from you, but right now I'm getting a leaf, a free leaf, this is badass, I'm totally taking a leaf out of someone else's book!' 

Then I bet he was all like 'yep that was TOTALLY worth it, I got a free leaf! I just hope that eventually that people don't think by this I'm telling them that I copied some lame cliche self improvement goal'.

Yep being the first to do something kicks ass. I just wish I too had the ability to distinctly and precisely detail how I thought about it so I too don't have my actions misinterpreted.