| I guess this is a writing exercise? 2010-05-25 10:02:14 ET |
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A chicken with boxing gloves just ran through our office. Big boxing gloves, not your general chicken-sized boxing gloves, no sirree.
It knocked out a coworker of mine. He must've looked at it wrong as he hovered right over it. Must've panicked the chicken. Next thing you know KA-POW! He's laying flat on the cheap carpeted floor.
Speaking of cheap carpeting, have you ever considered the fact that if you stretch out a carpet you won't need a floor beneath it? Just nail that sucker to the walls, all stretched out, and walk on it. It's amazing!
I'm going to patent it.
As soon as this goddamn chicken gets out of my office.
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| Wrote this over 3 years ago 2010-05-24 13:38:43 ET |
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"Bloodsport Grandma"
Have you ever been kissed by a quick right hook
Jarred aware by a jab that took
You down in a parking lot
Didn't even feel the uppercut
That landed on you as you fell
Woke up in the pits of hell
Cold hard pavement cradling your head
Fighter up above you expecting you dead.
Yet it has to be said
Don't mess with no grandma
Don't call her no hag
Piss her off in the street
And you're her punching bag.
She might be ninety
But she'll take you down
Work your face over till your smile is a frown.
She'll beat you to pieces
You'd wish you were dead
Regret all those disses
As she kicks at your head.
I know you feel stupid
But I know you've been told
That it's suicidal to pick a fight with the old.
Now lay there, young man
In your puddle of blood
And be glad that you aren't buried
Under 6 feet of ground.
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| Purse those lips and keep eyes open! 2010-05-24 13:32:27 ET |
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"Kiss of a Were-Fish"
They called her "Fishface" due to the look of her face, altered by mass plastic surgery. It seemed like there was a direct relationship between one's immediate fortune and the amount of work one's had. Organic canvases for the men with the bladed hooks. Old money or new it did not matter. They all got the bug at some point in their lives. Usually the middle. The bug? More like a kiss from a were-fish. Everytime I pass them my eyes scan their necks for traces of gills. Why not? That'd complete the look.
***
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| 2010-05-21 04:51:54 ET |
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I was going to write a short movie about a stand-up comic. He's doing his act and, unbeknownst(sp?) to him, there's a zombie plague going on. As he's doing his routines, unable to see the audience due to the spotlight on him, the audience eventually becomes all zombies. He's talking to a crowd that's not responding to his humor and so he becomes depressed and kills himself on-stage only to then rise up..as a zombie. I was going to call it "Dead Serious" but that name's already taken.
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| WFMU FM, MF! 2010-04-17 08:16:02 ET |
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I've been listening to WFMU ( 91.1fm) a lot more now. When I lived in Brooklyn I had a dream that one midnight I woke up and started messing about with the dials and found some pirate tv station that played Russian cartoons around channel 55 or so. WFMU reminds me of that dream. So, yeah. It's cold here. But I'm feeling warm anyways. I'm going to clean the room, so me and my girl can go do our crazy stuff without knocking over piles of books, cds, and assorted items. Tea will beckon later.
Moo.
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| The beginning of something good… 2010-04-13 11:52:21 ET |
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(Written on my Blackberry)
"Noir Bingo"
The voice was a jarring snub to sleep. It was nails against blackboard. Grater against granite. It was a man's voice. A voice of Authority. A voice in blue uniform. Baton in hand, swinging.
"I said get your legs off the seat, buddy. Don't make me tell you twice."
I put my feet down on the train floor. "You just did" I said and leaned back and closed my eyes just enough to barely see the cop glare at me but then wander off to some other part of the train car. I didn't need the hassle. It had been a long day and it was the beginning of an even longer night. I was feeling the heat of being awake too long. That feeling that every hard-working insomniac knows. The stuffed sinuses. The pores of the skin that seem to stay open forever as to allow all the grim and the filth to enter as they'd please. I dislike that feeling and thus tonight possessed something special that had forced me to endure this unpleasantness. Tonight was bingo night at the old folks home. And I, a gambler for the hearts of old rich women, loved bingo.
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| Let me tell you a secret.... 2010-04-06 06:59:20 ET |
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It's not an in joke. It's an out joke. Cause it's...
OUT-RAGEOUS!
(oh, man, that's sooo whack!)
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