Let's Keep Secret Santa a Secret

I hate Secret Santa. Secret Santa made a bong out of a Pocari Sweat soda. Hes STONED. World traveler is sneaky and stole a bunch of trash thats in a leaky glad bag from Star Bucks. Its on his back and he looks like real Santa. The kids love him cuz he looks PRESENTable even tho hes a bum. Give them a hit Secret Santa. Go on, turn them on to dubbage. Stoned clause lovers long for bong at Xmas, don't they, it aint no secret. Shhhhh Secret Santa is pissed. Im telling all his secrets to his entourage of kiddos. Oh well bitch, Clause Flaws are enriched in criminal spirit. And thus thy Holy Ghost will shitteth in your pretty flying deer carriage for stoning Cristian youths on Christmas. The ghost shit lingers and waifs with angel wings up to your moustached nostril. It is holy shit! And Secret Santa, this miasma from the Holy Ghost will wrinkle thy nose and wreck thy sleigh into a body of water tonight. It will flip on its belly, yet don't be alarmed S.S. You will be able to breath inside. As a pittance for your sin a pocket of air will reside for eternity in thy sleigh.
At some point that horny Donner will bobble up and you no doubt, yes, you will procreate with him I know it! Thus making deer sized sea monkeys that will havoc up the ocean. Why kill Christmas for the innocent sea animals!
These "Santa's little hoofers"(deer seamonkeys) will after years of exploring will eventually find the beloved S.S. Titanic. Oh dear, they will then aid the offspring of the children (now deaf n dumb adults) in the air pocket of the Titanic. Fiendish creatures these Titanic Kids are, and at times you can hear them crying bad songs they learned from their parents on the AM dial when you raft over the wreckage. The music from this era is spine chunking. Its even worse when sung by flounder raised feral friends in hallow hulls of the Titanic."Roll out the Barrel" loses its festive charm when sung by Helen Kellers, its awesome in its sadness. I secretly have come to love it.
The Titanic Kids are blind and when buoyed up they will be boiled in bad judgement and create so many mistakes that the Land Lubbers will have to put them down. Think about it S.S., Land Lubbers will have a cow when they spot blind creatures in old clothes being walked by hoofed sea monkeys singing Xmas carols. Its official, Santa really does spell Satan when its stoned screwing deer under a sleigh in the middle of the arctic ocean. I realize now that nothing we do will stop your Secret Santa cockcoffinknee. Lets just ignore you then, and go about our Jesus Jam soberly. Just everyone please keep Secret Santa a Secret for b-day Jesus's sake! All I want for Christmas is for the Titanic Tykes to stay alive for my Ham radio enjoyments.

Cheers,
Hollis

Davey, Davey Cock It

Everyone knows about Davey Crockett's coonskin hat. But why does no one talk about his very innovative coonskin boots? These things were like a terra forma trout line out in the woods. Ol Davey wood runaround hunting and all them horny coons would see that tail jiggling and run after his furred feet. Ol Davey would just cock it back n shoot. A horny coon never had a chance. Dead male coons were spermed up and had a very tender tangy meat. Plus the hydes could make all kinds of apparel from hats, boots, and thongs with a novelty coon tail penis. He sold the later at Spencer’s Mercantile which later became Spencer Gifts.
Shooting coons was good money but he had to deal with them horny hauntings. Zombie coons would come out at night looking for coon poon and bite on his shoeless sleep feet. He would kick on his bed roll all night and holler and cry in sorrow for them dead coons. He was like the King of The Wild Frown Tears in the evenings. Then by day it was like he had zero feelings at all running around with a raccoon head ontop of his own and slingin a virgin coons backside tail dong with pelt between his cheeks. Despicable demeanor Davey, I hope them zombie coons finally consummate your feet and impregnate those corns with coons wearing Davey dong thongs.

I Hope My Filthy Head is in Some Crosshairs.

Sept 5th, I think-

Larvae made base camp in ear. Its been full gestation cycle and little ones I see and feel coming out of canal. Post traumatic syndrome has nothing on me at this time. Tied buoy parts and hemp rope around hands to keep from scratching my ears off. Lost hope of anyone looking for me. Ass is wet, itchy, and red. Mouth is so chapped its shriveled into a pucker that cannot move open or close. There is about enuff open to get coconut juice swallows in and mushed banana. If anyone did spot me they would turn the boat around and report back about the creature boy on deserted island. I just hope the authorities shoot me in the head . I cant take anymore suffering. If I could id break down and cry a glass of thirst quenching tears, but we all know I can't.

Jesus Christ Superbowl

This years Superbowl was a mess. During the half time show Jesus performed and had a wardrobe malfunction and his bonered wiener popped out and blessed half the stadium. This blessing in demise accidentally multiplied all the Hebrew National ball park franks being munched in the stadium. It was a familiar sight as Jesus loves to multiply food. Just about 500 years ago he accidentally multiplied fish and turned Nehi into wine when he waved a stink finger good-bye to a very naughty "disciplined" disciple by that old river in Galilee.
This new turn of events made God the Father cry a river and flood New Orleans again. Every man, woman, and transsexual on Bourbon street loaded up in Party Arcs to keep the party gods appeased. The wet Jews in the ninth-ward ironically were okay with being flooded. This was because the NFL was sending Kilos of the blessed Koshered wieners to the flood victims as pittance. The Jews ate them on soggy buns and converted to Christianity.
As news about the mayhem became front page headlines, an embarrassed and broke Jesus hid out in Pakistan mowing lawns for money. Symbolically his mower became flooded and he needed to "choke his throttle". When he did, Guam exploded and the world really wanted to crucify the poor guy. Jesus, Jesus whats a deity to do to make a dollar these days. I guess keep your peckerwood tied to your leg when your doing a cover of "Doing the Butt" at the Superbowl. I really dont know what the fuss is all about. I dont really get offended, so please, Go on and wave your stuffs and multiply me some chili con queso. Jesus Christ I am ready for some football.

Gourd Decor 2

Yes my plight listeners, Its that exciting season for our favorite decorations, GOURD DECOR. This year, due to Staggflation and the plummeting dollar I am having to cut back and use in house bric-a-brac and items I have stolen to decorate my Thanksgiving centerpiece. This doesn't mean its going to be shabby looking, nope, it just means I need to get creative. The backbone to this years place-setting is a very nice gourd I dug up upstate while I was doing some illegal apple picking. Its a classic shape with a flaccid penile shaft at the top with a bulbous base, pure gourdness. And as always, I have included my loofah from last years setting as a reminder that yes, that's right, the loofah is a gourd! and not a fucking sponge!
This year as I mentioned has been tuff do to the dollar tanking and the US not being on the Gold Standard anymore. I am not going to get into it but those pieces of paper we carry in our wallets mean Nil now since we got rid of Fort Knox and replaced it with a football field sized credit card that we like to use way too much. To symbolize these problems I have replaced the ram horn cornucopia of abundance with a Chihuahua protective head cone of scarcity. Inside the Cone of Scarcity will house the embodiment of my meagerness- a lemon, some almonds and a handful of Gin soaked raisins for they are a home remedy for my gad darned arthritis I developed this year. We are all in a "rough patch" economically but everyone please have a Happy Thanksgiving. Love to you and to your family. If I believed in a biblical god I would offer a god bless, but I don't. So I will say, may Intelligent Design bless your turkey leg haunches and fillith your Cones of Scarcity with Chihuahuas.

Cheers,

Hollis

A Message to the Brooms I Hate and Them Hors I Love?

I Cleaned Broom from all the dust bunnies and laid it back to the tile and within minutes another collection has clogged up broom and im bringing broom to hand to clear it off. What bloody good is a damn broom anyway. Im always clearing the straw and germing my person. Should just get down naked and damp and roll around collecting floor crud then hop in the shower and rinse it off. I hate you straws and long stick!!! You cause me nothing but greif and you are worth nothing in this modern age. You did good when floor was dirt and floor crud was leaves. Now we have slick shiny glossy surfaces and straw and stick gave me Torburkylosis cuz I ate hors de ovaries after I swept. Who da think that Dirty dust bunny fingers on a mini quiche could ail me a TB last year and get bits of my important lung cut! I HATE YOU STRAW! I HATE HOW YOU CANT GRAB!!! I HATE THAT STICK YOU ARE ON!!! I LOVE YOU HORS DE OVARIES!!!!!



Whores form the Island of Ovres? Hors de Oeuvres?







I can’t follow shit sometimes watching Pedro (Human Television). That whole last episode of the Hollis Babble with Hollis’s plight against the straws on sticks was all thrown off kilter by a French word I think.. I know he’s a Hispanic Television and words from France will kink his functions, but it makes for jumbled programming that I cannot enjoy. He gets a foreign word and instead of skipping it he goes off on make believe story lines that usually involve whores and pirates. Well to put an end to all this mayhem I am outfitting Pedro with a nice French plug-in, get that Hispanic working correctly again. This is great for home I suppose, but my dilemma lays with the male end of the plug adapter on the portable (Pedro’s Son, Human Television JR). I think it is going to be too small to fit inside the French plug-in. Ill just have to Jerry- Rig it and wrap some electrical tape around them ends to secure the connection.

Human Boob Tube

Some day maybe ill be able to afford a black n white tube tv. Until then I am gonna stick to my worker Pedro. Hes my human telivision. Watching him for six hours a day really rots my brain but its so damn addicting. If anything happened to him I would be at a lose. I leave him on at nights cuz I have grown accustomed to falling asleep watching him. In the mornings hes still moving his deaf lanquage hands. My relationship with Pedro is a love hate one at that. His son is almost five and is learning the trade. It excites me cuz now I got me a portable.

Anamorphic Jordan the Ambassador

Michael Jordan has come out of retirement once again. This time hes added 10 to his number to make it 33 and his guru coach changed his head on his jumpman logo to an anamorphic ambassadors skull. He looks better than ever and has been working out with a master goat Shepard in Athens. He has gone from donkey bun arms to looking like Clydesdale asses in little more than a summer. He dunks like a mule kick. His head has morphed into a digitised ambassadors skull to make him more compatible with the updated malware fans and Nike has designed a new air Jordan feed bag to fit his cow in the blanket feet.
Me being a curb crawling drunk beacon who curb travels the streets of Chicago enabling Coach Phil Jackson's voodoo wi fi to transmit across the land, would have to say hes got serious game! My money is on the Bulls this year. Way to transform your shift shaping mess of a body Michael. I also heard but cannot confirm that his trademark fruit of the looms have been shrunk down to a micro thong to streamline and swell his sac of jaweahs to the size of basket balls. Its funny to see his parts swell up when his partner Scotty Pippens head has been shrunken and now dangles around super coaches neck.

Labor Day Parade

Jenny from pregnant yoga class has the big preg hungries. She has huge cravings for broccoli and spicy vege chorizo burritos and scarfs them down before we begin our limber stretches. When we get down in the cat position, Jenny humbly nails out these labor inducing farts from her lower chakra. Mary was coming out of Cobra pose and got whiff and tumbled back into hunch backed dog and squirted out a female. The newbie is okay cuz she landed on a mat. But, lordy she did look funny sliding across the vinyl flying a placenta balloon in her own version of the labor day parade.

The baby later went into One-Legged King Pigeon pose and cried an OM signifying his upper chakra was full of spitum. A couple of back pats on the newbie against my shoulder and my leotard was drenched in chorizo smelling goop.

CAUTION:

If giving birth in yoga class please make sure you are wearing a crotch-less leotard. If not the precious could end up balled up in childs pose against your bottom chakra kahn. (see above illustration)

his - The female sprung a chorizo turning it into a male! His mother tasted it and confirmed that it too was spicy and vege. She realized she tasted it in public and felt mass shame. Her embarrassment made her humbly spit up chorizo on her leotard.
Lesson: Yoga posing as a dog will make you act like one. Or, chorizo is the essence of life if it is vegan and spicy.

Cow in a Blanket

I love a cow in a blanket. A nice beef burner blanketed in a doughey granny quilt. Its nice to think of the edible heffer all snug and comfy laying on an oiled pan bed. What is almost better than eating a bedded bovine is to sneak a peek through the bedroom oven door and see a sleepy mound with a flakey browning duffet, sizzle snore with grease sneezes in a 400 degree nap shack.
Its disrespectful to sneak peeks of catatonic high caloric cattle I know. But the bottom of my stomach is dusty from a lack of the food broom coming through.

After 10 minutes its time to remove the peaceful morsel from her slumber. My heart is in trouble for the cow insists on traveling with her blanket, its a security thing. These travel requests have weakened my heart as they are usually hoofed chunked almost immediatley once these heffers enter the party that is digestion. These disregarded dough blankets which are covered in grease sneezes pile up and clog up my artery freeways. Heart has a hell of a time pumping blood through my comforter cluttered passages.
I need to come up with a solution cuz heart is red with anger at the mess these visitors are leaving. I will ask heart to adevetise on a stint to the cows that a blanket party awaits in my stomach and it is wise to hang on to blankets for the whole party. Blankets can really sweep up a dusty stomach and its a win win for me and heart if those lard soiled bedspreads bypass my ticked off ticker and broomed my belly instead. Im on to something here and the oven heat has really made me sleepy. Sleepy like 20 hens in a sleeping bag.

Grow a Pair

My Sister Daughter Niece just moved to NYC. She misses Texas a bunch and had a massive breakdown. I told her to hunker down a grow a pair. She couldnt and cried for days while snorting horny-goat weed for her hungovered head. The horny goats built up crystalized testosterone tears that clogged up her emotional flow. Well the damming ballooned and she grew a pair right in her tear ducts. Nice danglers. She was now able to socialize and cavort town without wettening her facial. Dry-eyed and goat weed high she hit the pavement to find a job.

The weeks went on and her new found ability to never to be phazed-face and cry-eyed, well, made her cocky in her vocabulary. Cocky can sometimes be confused with confidence and she landed a whopper of a high paying job. A cocky mouth cant function without something to feed it so she went on and grew a pair right on her bottom lip. nice saggers. I was a little jealous.

Over a bowl of unshelled sunflower seeds at the Brooklyn Ale House we discussed her new job. She had changed allot and it was like a different person there in front of me, sucking seeds. She was, very real, but, very fake. Seeing my well hung Sister Daughter Niece functioning so falsely in NY made me regret the advice i gave her. I reflected and thought that maybe she did need a good cry. I know its hard up here and maybe she needed to let it out. Maybe she was fine without balls on her face. As I gazed at her scrotum jabbering away I thought, damn I guess the saying is right. There are reasons why .you need to fail first before you suckseed. So I racked her in the mouth and threw down the bowl of snacks and two wettened slits appeared in my eye holes. I couldnt hold back anymore and A flash flood tear poured out of my pupil pussys and carried us back to Texas to get our bearings straight. It was a wake up call for both Unkle and Niece. We bonded over some bean n cheese tacos and returned to New York Shitty to conquer that town without wearing our inner privates on our faces. We are much better for it to this day.

Side note: If you suckseed without failing you could bloom a sprout right in your mouth balls. Very painful and ugly.

Disclaimer: No Sister Daughter Niece's were hurt during the modeling of this babble. NO scrotums were sewn on the model for the painting. They were actual "show-ers" from Harry and Corn Bo (not his real name) that were gently laid upon the S.D.Neices face for sketching. Please dear Sibling Lovers dont tell our Mother Girlfriend!

Yours in Plight,
Hollis(Drunkle Brother Mother)

Internetting Me a Man

He was a great date up until he tried to blow sweet nothings in my ear on the sofa. For dinner he had a big brontosaurus burger, which made for a mouthful of problems. The sofa hornies got him touchy and he went in and blew Meat Somethings in my ear. Gristle and earwax makes for a very grody ball on a manicured nail! It was a Brahma Bull of a ball too, and had an opaqueness with a gummy tacky character. I cocked back the nail and flicked for mentioned ball in the direction of the egress and told Meat Somethings to make like a Chick and get the Peck out of my living room. Blue balled and embarrassed, Meat Somethings retreated to his sad masturbation pad.

My next Internet date was worse. He invited me over for dinner at his apartment. Pad was elegant and faggy with lots of macramé and Hindu iconage. He had a mix of foot and food fetishes and belonged to a charity organization called heels on meals. The members stepped on donated food for the helpless and lazy and wheeled the meals to the lackadaisical clientele. During our meal he got all horny and heeled my mash potatoes and sniffed a sock. I tip-toed to the door and yelled "you need to date a spud bud this dates a dud" and gag refluxed to my Jetta. I need a good man with mouth full of bad sayings to get me horny. If only nana was a man and we were unrelated id be balling her now.

Shoe Polish Sundays

Dunlop Bees, The Race of the Races.

Survey says that lightning bugs are free thinking flies that gussy and spruce up outer fur for an illuminescent jolt of hey look at me. In the insect world things like "glow ass" happen all the time. It is a magical tiny nano world they exist in and sometimes it can be quite sinister. Take for instance the Dunlop Tire mask culture of the Sugar Tusk bee. These bees are real nano and fly at speeds so fast that the human eye cannot detect them.
They hang around mostly Nascar tracks around the USA and prey upon the race fans. The Sugar Tusks have adapted a mosquito like suck face to gather blood in them guts from the race victims to pollinate their grotesque human fat hives. They have turned to humans for pollination because the race tracks and car parking lots have destroyed there environs and pissed them off badly. The amount of sugar in the nascar fans diabetic blood has caused the formation of "sugar tusks" on their pretty insect haired faces. Saddened by these tusks these Bees have outfitted masks depicting the Dunlop tire logo to hide their MANipulated facial features.

Nascar fans love a biblical God and have human selfish answers as to why insects have things like "glow ass" and the like. Little do they know that glow ass is not intended to smile up a human child's face. It is intended for illuminating a race track path for a team of Dunlop masked Sugar Tusks to penetrate a fat child's arm and secure the survival of their insect race. The pissed off adrenaline these nano suckers have flowin inside will eventually toxify the entire race of race fans and extinct them before the checkered flagged bee swatter can even be made.

Sad Dame Hussying

The Dame is always depressed while she cavorts and has been known to give the occasional crying felatio. These acts have given her the name Sad Dame Hussying. I read in the post that shes “swinging now”. She was on a rampage in her country and her greed for “the need” made her hussy up the land. If only she listened to my favorite dolly I rock back n forth with at night things could have been different. Dolly is a Llama and is wise beyond belief. My Dolly Llama has made me realize that greed of needs and wants only bring sadness and funk and others angry at you. Poor Sad Dame Hussyin was seen swinging in public even without a hood. Her face is puffy and needs an attack from a shaving kit. It would do her good to stick that mug in a burlap sac for Allah sake! Im about to throw up my tandorri looking at it.

Respirator Cowboy

The respirator cowboy awoke in the noon day sun on his bed roll. He will need a filter change if he plans to ride another day in the Ozone alerted Dallas skies. The holed up skies are his nemesis and his canvas. He loves attaching aerosole hair spray containers nozzle down on the soles of Horsie's hooves. A ride around town trot spraying hairspray seems real dumb to most. But to the respirator cowboy its pretty neat to know that even though he has no car and little money that he too can contribute to the American dream of swiss cheesing the sky and annoying the rest of the one off freak show that is planet earth.

Drink from your xxx jug via a tube you contributor of pollutants. You are the new drunk American hero. And I am your brethren, the stilts wearing Indian with spray can shoes running a country mile in suburban sectors everywhere, spray painting a tag thats 15 years long. Hiya wah wah shoosh shoosh click clack, I am hauling can man.

House Sitting For Pearcy and Carla

Bernice Jones,

So sweet of you to watch our home while we in Camden. We are staying in a nice place but we find it troubling that we have no whole in the bed frame or a bed post to secure our overnight luggage too. I packed a chain and gym lock for securing cuz you can never tell when you are visiting over the pond. Found some nice collectables and ive been dumpster diving lookin for enough newspaper to wrap em up and mail em. Got one or 2 of them with bernice jones as the receiver. Pretty nice place this Camden is. Red dirt and you can see your shadow in the moonlight. If you have any questions about the home or land call up Hamby, his number is written on notebook paper rubber banded to the extra key. He does a trash haul to the dump with the wire cage trailer every Thursday, so fling your filthy fodder in there Wednesday night. I know Hamby is scary with his slobby exterior and his pack of Dalmations but he can help bring buckets of spring water from the pump for your monthly water supply. He is also good at killing cotton mouths out in the out house if one crawls up for a nap in there. Also, dont mind the Daddy Long Legs around the property. They are mad poisonous but God gifted them with nano mouths so small they cant bite ya. Well, we are off collecting and decided to gym lock the luggage to sink pipe. Love ya like a sister not a lover,


Pearcy and Carla

To Butt Slide Back In Time, If Only!

Deare Brillant readers of the hood,

In hindsight 20/20 i would'nt have done things differently. In hind leg 30/30 I would still do the same. But, in hind foot 40/40, now then, i would not have chalk written hop scotch with 2 oo's. This makes it hop scootch and watching 8 year olds butt slide on my side walk is disturbing. Plus it makes me look pervy and im not. All I was doing was being a good community player by allowing these childs axess to play on my proberty. Im sorry, butt Im just a really bad speller. I love watching an adult scootch while drinking a scotch so maybe I'll just piss write that on Yall's yards and see if you come over.
Sorry again for being a community player and getting my ass handcuffed and labeled a peddi. Thank you very much overreactor son of bitches for ruining my assie life.

Jat P

Pardon Me Boys

Pardon me boys, but is that the ChattyNuggie Choo Choo? If so im very Chatty Cathy and im so craving some nuggie. I could nuggie a head from the caboose all the way to the coal car if you know what I mean. The coal car is the best place cuz I can nuggie with a miner face on, you see my point?
Camp town lady is nine miles long doo dah doo dah. Camp town ladys real long boys so I need to get down to the Bare Necessities, those simple Bare Neccesities to forget about my worries and my wife. My wife is all up on me shit for coming home with a sooty mug on and getting them pillowcases all blackened.
Like I said, Im very Chatty Cathy, and my goal this afternoon is to be coal miner face and in a head lock getting a nuggie atop some coal bouillon going 15 mph down some tracks. This is all I crave right now! Make it happen boys. Make it happen. And I apologize for pardoning you at such a late hour.

Uncle Nuggie

My Uncle nuggied me with his knuckle right on my noggin. Then he wet willied me and when I was all trying to dry my ear hole he went right into an Indian rug burn then frogged me in the thigh. What moves he has. What badass combos. When I went to kick his shin he Jumping Jacked and caught my leg then twirled me to the ground and he proceeded to kick my ass in leg wrestling, all while singing the Diarrhea Cha Cha Cha song. God I hope Im as cool as him when Im 33.

Home Remedies pg 57:

Hi Plight Listeners,

This is a page from my book on home remedies that I have been working on for a couple of years. If you have some yourself, please feel free to leave a comment and I will include them if they are any good. These have worked for me in the past and hopefully they will save you a trip to Eckerd’s. Have a happy Friday!!!

Yours in plight,
Hollis

Acid Reflux- Use a dollop of toothpaste and place on tongue. Take deep breath and swallow. Toothpaste is a flux coater fer sure.

Chest Pains- Thistle Root with Honey Comb cereal. Beat on back to induce a cough and hopefully cereal will get into chest and comb through your pain.

Q-Tip- Dish rag rubber banded around a pencil

Vapor Rub for Chest Cold- Crisco lard mixed with horseradish. Mix these two ingredients together for a nice concoction base. Take base and smear on sicky’s chest and up nostril if sicky is stopped-up. Sicky should take deep breaths and avoid being around pets. Dogs like rank crap and could wrestle a flu victim to the ground quite easily for a chance to snack on a nasty concoction like that.

Athletes Foot- Make a dredge bath with flour, milk, lemon pepper and soot then Coat the foot. Run with your flounder feet on hot pavement till golden brown. Dip your chicken fried feet in cream gravy. Should rid your peds of athlete’s foot and make a wingtip smell like a hardy grub.

Sleeping Pill- Cant sleep? How about you take a jog for an hour. Can’t jog? Do some math.

Impotence- Take a bee and rub stinger on flaccid friend till your mouth is wide open and you are screaming like a Cheyenne. Note, your pee pee will inflate on the outside but stay fragile and weak on the inside. This will give you the ability to penetrate a lover but I doubt he or she will allow you to after you just had sex with an insect.


Groin Gurgle- Bake a rag that’s been soiled in flour milk at 400 degrees for 5 hours. Frost the rag cake with butter n pumpkin guts and place in some tight panties for the ladies or Leo’s for a bro. Make sure rag cake aligns right on the tender taint. Wear this for 8-10 days repeating the rag cake ritual everyday. This should bust your gurgling creeky groin and make you walk normal and silent again. Please understand that this is only a theory as I myself have never had Groin Gurgle. This was passed down to me from Hollis Sr.

Yanks Are Harnessing Energy From My Kin

Ive discoverd something flat out disturbing, my great great cowboy unkle was buried up north. He was hatcheted by a native woman as he had his backside to her panning for copper nuggets in a creek bed. She was a wida injun and her pissed off passions put an end to my kins life. Scalped and gutted he was buried and them southern bones will fidget for eternity being blanketed in that Yankee soil. I myself have never felt it but some say when you walk across a civil war cemetery up north you can feel a small earth quake from them southern bones shaking from southern soil withdrawal like a heroin addict craving horse.

Brings a tear to my eye thinking about it and I read in Entrepreneur magazine that some Yankee Doodle Dandy has harnessed the energy from shaking southern bones to recharge his cell phone. Plans to make a fortune by selling a cup of good ol' boy finger bones in Yankee soil with an ac/dc adapter coming out of it. It makes my goiter pucker just thinking about the sacrilege he's committed. He says hes thinking Green but in my book hes thinking Mean and he better stay on his side of the Mason/Dixon line. If he dares cross it Ill put his bones 6 feet under a layer of Sweetwater red clay. We all know what happens to Yankee bones when they are buried in southern dirt. They turn into credits on my Skype account and im in need of some badly. Texas is a big state and calling from Lampassas to Nacodoges will bankrupt your butt if you are calling from a land line. Im down to just a jar of crushed Yank humerus bones and that will last me about a week.

PeePaas Chub Hunt

Peepaw got him an easter kit from PAAS. He is swirling some hard boils in a pink dyed liguid in a rusty old coffee can. That can was used to house old orphaned screws and bolts and he may need a tetnis shot after arts n crafts class. His friends call him Chubs cuz his belly is big from snackin up all of his rejected art. He egg farts cane walks around the assisted living center looking for inspiration. His new batch of eggs are inspired from last months Prevention Magazine cover. When hes not dippin shell hes doing a makeup mirror reflection inspection of his gray pubes for hidden treasure. Just like an easter egghunt in the grass, Chubs saw his precious and tickled a nut under his gut.

Chinatown Exchange Rate: Poor

New boombox only plays at high volume and you need a brick to keep CD cover down. I was not amazed to find that the technical instruction manual was a preschool drawing of stars. I returned to the Chinatown store for a remedy. Asking to speak to the management I was directed to the "first officer". He was a tall man with flat face, asian eyes and wore dirty t-shirt with a name plate that was in China scratch. He spoke with a yell and I could never get a word in edge wise. Trying to communicate universally I tenderly force fed him some sign language, which caused fingers to get stuck in nostrils and eye outlets. First officer flat face got red with anger and soft ball pitched my deaf lanquage hands out of his face holes. I got a warranty explanation in Korean and went on my way cord dragging my Coby boom box like it was a dog

I Smear Wear My Passions

Pipe me up some I wanna smokee.
AHH good tokes.
Hehe its comin out my nose.
Hooka me some more toke.
Lovely foggy white.
Meerchem carved sailor pipe me
up with tobaccee, i loveee!!!
I just ash right here in my
coat pocket like so. I love saving the memory
of my coughing tear eyed smoke sessions you know.
Im feeling my hand deep down in my pocket for a good memory.
Here look at this dark ash on my pivot finger. This was
purple rose tobacoo. It had an oakie flavor with a hint of
petal posturing in the after taste. It was great after the
noon rains we had on Friday. I packed that purple tobacco
solid in my corn cob and watched a dying pigeon on the stoop
choke on my exhaust. Lovely memory it is, and now it has
transformed into a purple finger thats going a fingering
right here in your ash tray. Im dirty now. I assume people
think im a filthy fool when really im just a sad man covering
myself with my carcenagen memoirs.
I live for the toke and it shows.

The Perfect Valentine

To invent a perfect, flawless, all encompassing St Valentines day gift was the passion and life work of Albertus Sundrake. To accumulate all the essence of erotica and beauty into one object was the conundrum and it challenged him for many years. He tormented his hormoning craving body to figure out what this object would be. This object would have to be classy and sexy at the same time. He thought "What about a chocolate pair of breast". YES! To take a boobie and press lip and tongue on the finest rich dark Belgium chocolate would be erotic, um yes. But after an hour of sucking and licking, the titillated users face would be a smear of stool brown and the erotic object would be a nipple less muddy mound. Not an appealing thought he pondered. Puzzled and turned on he thought about sapphires big enough to sit in the clavicles of his lovers neck. A beautiful poetic thought this was but it softened his pecker bad. A soften peter has no place in a Valentine evening affair and the notion was dropped. To stifen himself up again he thought about his lover approaching him in a critter crawl with a rose between her teeth and wearing only soft delicate classy panties. This thought was it! The culmination of these two alluring elements produced a baby of erotic design, The Pantie Rose my friend was born.



After several years of prototype after prototype he thought he had it perfected. The main ingredient was a beautiful classy La Perla satin red G-string pantie. It was carefully folded origami style in the shape of a magnificent Souvenir du Docteur Jamain rose. This particular rose captured the true beauty of St Valentines day with its vigorous and refined petals and its knack to be very floriferous when in bloom. What a prodigious flower and the pantie of course would also need that deep and heavy scent of port wine that the gifted floret exhumes. Albertus purchased several packs of panties and planted them inside barrels of port wine. This was key to getting the scent in the satin but it also had a very serendipitous result. To be intoxicated by panty port made for a very randy inebriation and he partook in a solo tasting party very frequently. This no doubt stalled the production and half-assed the rest of the object. Instead of taking the time to cast an actual stem in the finest porcelain. He settled on using a pipe cleaner wrapped tight with green electrical tape with a unsightly construction paper leaf hung hastily near the top by the well thought out, fragile undergarment. This grim gallimaufry of exquisite beauty and jerry riggin hit the market. It was a huge flop.
The heart break was unbearable. He drank straight from the tap of the pantie porter barrels and a pantie planted it prettiness in his pie hole where he nearly choked to death. Drunk and distraught he shunned society for years.
He was lured out of his funk by his lover who, on St Valentines day presented him with a generic Chinese plastic pantie rose with rough unclassy thonged pantie petals. Outraged and with a vengeance, he went to work to ceramic coat the stem and make the beloved pantie rose what it was meant to be, an object of meaningful grace and beauty. Something a mother would pass to her daughter as an heirloom. A relic of erotica per say.
Not only did Albertus achieve this feat he also went on to make all kinds of undergarment plants for all kinds of butt sized women and plant lovers alike. Including the largest flower on earth, the Rafflesia arnoldii which was made from the finest and largest Lane Bryant full bottomed panties. To keep "god in the details", he had to stay true to the flower and soak the panties in tubs of yuck containing dookie and animal decay. This is because when in bloom, the Rafflesia emits a repulsive odor, similar to that of rotting meat and is often known as the "corpse flower".
The chubby public was outraged at the thought of plump women exhibiting themselves in fetid fashions. He was once again a failure and went swimming in tubs of yuck till he overdosed from Hep A.

The Moral: If by any chance you receive a pantie rose this Saint Valentines day. Please remember Albertus Sundrake's passionate story. There is more to an erotic novelty than just a horny Asian man trying to make a buck. Usually there is an aroused genius in the background who went through failure and pain because of his obsession with finery and details.

Home Room Hot Flash

Dear Mr Men, Managers of Teachers,

I cant seem to wake up and I am late for class in the mornings. Its a big problem and there is no solution Mr Men. I love to sleep in. Im cursed with the open eyes at night. I stay up writting poetry and go to bed about 3 am every evening. How the hell does Mrs Clary think I can report to 8am class? She knows im a poet first and a student second. Not only does she continue to make me an example every morning but she has the nerve to call me Tardy in front of the class. I find this very hummiliating to me and Clifford the mentally retarded man student sitting in the back. Clifford must be 40 and I have little in common with him! I do not have down syndrome face nor do I wear a crash helmet dear Manager of Teachers. But Mrs Clary seems to continue to draw up parellels between us. It must be her now defunct female gonads screwing with her vision, it is absurd. Plus, her hot flashes are making home room clamy and sticky. And what about Clifford? The poor man gets made fun of enough as it is. Mrs. Clary should be fired for her poo poo prose she afflicts on me and Cliffy every morning. See to it that massive action is brought upon her menopausing ass. If nothing is done about this matter I will be forced to transfer to another school. This will be a great shame for your institution to lose such a talented poet as myself. Be warned that before I leave I will absolutley go Oscar gone Wilde on her fast food fanny. And you can believe that Mr. Men.
I hate to threaten you sir, but if nothing is done I will go nautical and cast away from your Educational port and poet my babble on a yonder campus lawn!!! Also, whatever dirty laundry I exhume from your gross academy hamper I will joyfully unveil from a megaphoned mouth!!! Believe it Mr.Men. Torrential Tongues a twisting the torment concerning Tardy will crush your career!

Very sleepy and pissed,

Kindred Humphries
Poet LarryHat Extrodinare
6th Grade, Mrs. Clary's Home Room

Flotsam Reasearcher

I feel another black eye coming on and its not fair. I hasten to gander what kind of fight i will become apart of tonight. Last night my hooded sweat shirt was ingeniously turned into a carry all bag and it was full of stinky sea flotsam which caused the patrons of Dandys to plateau their smiles. All uptight and aggro they flung my poor hoody to the sawdusted peanut shelled floor(why irish pubs are okay with nut litter is beyond me). Not understanding the importance of my research on the biology of flotsam the drunk snarled face short order cooks gallavanted on my ocean debris turning into a frenzy dance that encompassed kicking my research out the door and sticking hankerchiefed assy in my face. Well I explained im all about the love and would rather snuggle cuddle and kissy rather than brawl punchy and fight. They retorted with an upper cut smack which I hasten to tell you my listener- it caused a smiled glasses wearing scientist to swell shut his eye!!! A Patrons margarita ice slush compacted eye swell as I ran to the egress. The politics of communication is something i really need to study. Im always putting my loafer foot way up in my pie eater.

KIDDOCITY

Parents have you heard this before from your tiny guy? "Im 12 and I easily get stressed out mom!!!. I flip wig a bunch Dad, so off my back!!! Dammit Granny, stop spitting on a kleenex and wiping my face with it. No flipping wonder I have Mono!!!"" Haha, when these little pip squeks say words like these it leaves me upchucked and upset. Why does a sappling need such torrential conflict in his or her head I ask? Well guardians of tykes, It doesnt. I believe I have come up with an answer to change those tunes in your moppet's minds. The answer is leaving them at my house. Leaving them at KiddoCity. Let me tell you about it.

Imagine a place were a kid can be a kid. A place where a child person can indian sit with hands in a "okay sign" and head with clarity in pursuit of nirvana. Now, Imagine your kiddo with sweaty brow from a hard core frisbee session, sitting humming a mantra so ear piercing it makes all the neighborhood dogs bark and whine like there is a freaking parade of firetrucks trucking down the street.(dogs hate sirens because they think its a screaming demon dog) This is an Oasis for whipper snappers.This is a sanctuary for youngens. This is Kiddocity.

Kiddocity is refuge where a little one can hover in a calm mind and hum up some Aums, Auuuuuummmmmm Auuuuuummmmmm. Its beautiful. These little womb bullets were shot onto this planet to sponge up the worlds tension. They need kiddocity. They need rooms with conducive lights to help with concentration on their breath to aid in reaching their core selves. Thereby I have outfitted my car port with dangling candle chandeliers. Munchkins sit around these dangling lumen generators on bean bags and all share suck with long communal straws on a giant Capri Sun hookah pack. Further more they need an open place to bath together for joint aura scubbing. Thus,they need to be in my house, I have 4 ground level tubs for washing meditativly relaxed parts. Besides, It is fun for them to pretend they are a soapy wet Buddha.


These buccaroos are beautiful and natural with pretty thoughts , emotions, and physical feelings. Once in Kiddocity these wee munchkins can experience being on the same cosmic naked level as myself. I am there molding and touching their ripe minds n parts to sculpt adolescent powerhouses who know how to feel compassion for themselves and others. After a touchy mind molding session, I like to enforce a 10 day silence period.This is to let them forget everything that has happened. Its a secret your kids will hold dear to them for the rest of their lives. Let me take care of your pip squeks, go on and worry about money and your job. Here at Kiddocity, its free! There is no cost to you or your child. Free of worry and free of clothing when the doors close.

Take em kids down to a kiddocity where the clothes are off and Aums are breathy!!!! Why dont you please take em. Auuuuuum.

Bronzer and Spliffzen

I apologize for being away so long my plight listeners, Ive been on a 3 week bender. Visiting home this holiday season, I unfortunatley ran into Bronzer and Spliffzen my 2 favorite party reindeers. Bronzer is a glamour buck with a shaved to skin coat thats been fake tanned to a copper bronze. Just above his braided tail he has a magnificent tramp stamp tattoo of a Santa with yin yang eye balls. His hoofs are usually painted glitter speed boat gold or sometimes he will add little touches to the hoofs to mark whatever holiday it is. Hes been on the South Beach diet for awhile and his ribby torso and heroin eyes completes his model appearance.

Spliffzen, on the other hand is way more urban with his Yak hair tail and ankle hoof weaves. He is very robust with a chiseled chest and is the only carnivorous deer I have known. This deer loves to party and he scared the pack at the last gathering when he came out from a squat pissing behind a birch on two legs. He had stuffed lit spliffs in both tear ducts, ear holes, nostrils, and about 5 in his mouth. Arm legs were flailing and he was wheezing an awful zombie noise while dropping droppings. The pack dispersed in all directions with hind legs a kickin in some kind of defense mechanism reaction. Crazy pot faced deer scared the bejesus out of me and I high tailed it back home. Im sobering up with some horny goat weed tea and have stored all the knives in the basement in case these week long hangovers give me the stab tendencies again. Whipped this little letter to keep you informed.

Yours in Plight,
Hollis