Short stories, mini-fables, whispers and notes of nuisance.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Foghorn Leghorny


Foghorn Leghorny is my favorite musician. Musician is not really the correct term as he doesnt really play music so to say, lets call him my favorite noise maker. What he does is he straps a smoke machine to his back with a bunch of flash lights tied all over his person and a smoke detector dangling in front of his face. He comes out dancing up a storm (Leghorny means fast dancer he claims) while smoking about five cigarettes at once. On his stage is about 40 different modified smoke detectors and light sensitive pickups. The modified smoke detectors all range in different pitches and go off when he blows Cig smoke or his smoke machine sets them off. The flash lights trigger a light theremin my buddy Shane's buddy built. Foghorn Leghorny puts on a radical show thats not for the weak chested asthma fans. Second hand smoke is one thing. But coming from Foghorn Leghorny body its 2nd hand 3rd foot and 4th leg smoke pummeling your lungs. Not for developing kids unless its watched on VHS or blue ray. Kids do love his moves and will want to Leghorny all the time.

Oh, he also has 2 Great Danes called "The Tumbleweed Dancers" that are tied together on stage. When the alarms go off they flip wig and get all bundled up on the floor in front of Foghorn. Its the chocolate on the cake and it makes for an unforgettable show. Its like Cirque Du Solei done by a Janitor with no funds. I even recall a mop bucket with dried ice being rolled out at one point. I went ape shit when he flung the mop out and glitter rained upon the crowd.

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Im Cold In Here

Fucking hell! Im cold in here. Shit the door is open. Jesus Christ, what the fuck man where you born in a barn. Jesus, close the damn door. Don't you freaking wave your fist at me, i'll kick your ass. Jesus Christ!

God spoke to me through my religious sisters head. I found out that yes, his son was born in a barn and it has embarrassed his unthankful son ever since. He insisted that I keep my comments to myself and to never bring it up again as he will not hear the end of it. I texted God back: Yes God, NP. I shut fuck up for you.

Sunday, February 08, 2009

Failing Economy Spurs Innovation with Hicks



Listen up,

To save money I use chicken tit in my shoes. I walk on the chicken tit. I run on the chicken tit. At the end of the day its been super tenderized and my feet are shiny. I fry up my insoles and have fried chicken tits. The tits are amazing on my feet and stuffed in my mouth. I love the Italian style insoles. The flavor is good. Oh, real good flavor that mixes well with my homemade milkshakes.

Why dont we eat cow tits? We eat everything else from the cow. If we did id stop riding my bike on rump roasts and switch to beef tit. I guess udders are udderly gross packed in a shoe and thats probably why we dont eat them. No room for foot. Having a dual purpose being a meat is the name of the game I guess.

Im sitting on a raw turkey now. The vet says its good for my back when im internetting me some recipes. He also said I have hoof n mouth and hoof n butt disease. How that happened beats me but.... I imagine it may have something to do with that hoof handled tooth brush i clean myself with. DUH!

Anyway folks, you are gonna love using tits as an insole. So comfy yould wish you had tit to sleep on at night. That will come soon enough. Them turkey tits are growing about the size of a lazyboy cushion these days. They say in about 5 yrs scientist will have Genetically enginered a mattress for me Thanksgiving. Some day, please Jesus, let me sleep on a big ol tit. Id have a tit fit.

Yours,

Hick