Monday, July 7, 2003
I.... am a lawn mower.
Pull my rope.
Hear me rev and hold onto my handle
Run my blade across you lawn
Remember to lube my blade so I cut easier
When your done cover me with an old loved blanket
Take me out whenever you need me
Tuesday, July 1, 2003
12:57AM - The Power of Cheese
Go to store, buy cheese, buy LOTS of cheese, go to vacant lot, build house from cheese, hire electrician, install heatlamps, strip naked, sit in house of cheese and roll naked in the cheese oil puddling on the floor made of cheese, wait till house collpases on you, eat your way out, find old asian woman and rub your naked cheesy goodness on her, watch old woman run in terror.... Behold... The Power of Cheese.
Monday, November 18, 2002
Alas, alas, a las at last I might perhaps would like to lash.
Unto the bed and wed her then to make her mine till end of time.
Yea not to tough, nor I too rough, my love wont rust or bust nor be without trust.
These things I hold to be untold will yet unfold if I am bold, so I am told
Sunday, November 17, 2002
Once upon a time i met a man who liked to die
DeinBoo: Liked to die said I? He looked at me and sighed
LitGizmo: that must have been a sad man.
DeinBoo: and promtly fell on his head and cried
DeinBoo: Die says I tis what i do
DeinBoo: The wife the kids, its nothing new
DeinBoo: We like to drive the car real fast .. faster faster pump the gas
DeinBoo: Dive into the tree you see, we die we die now let us be
DeinBoo: Let you be says you, I cannot do
DeinBoo: You will show me how you do
DeinBoo: To take me on a trip with you, no seatbelts on us as we zoooom
DeinBoo: Step in the car says he, and you and I will zoom as three
DeinBoo: Zoom into the tree and die
DeinBoo: zoom zoom zoom says I
DeinBoo: he hit the throttle and he went
DeinBoo: Like an angel heaven sent
DeinBoo: The tree came quickly as we zoomed
DeinBoo: we hit the redwood and went BOOM
Quintessential knowledge of my incandecent shoe, reminds me of the person that I once was when I fluttered bout in blue. The premium you cost me and the experience I knew, erradicated all thought and indulgence of the new. Impervious and stricken with the overzelous slough... I paddled through the white cap wakes to search for somwhere new.
Tuesday, August 20, 2002
I wake to a nuzzle at my ear, eyes slowly open to a the blurry sight of red led lights, clock comes into focus, 4:20 am, the nuzzle come again... I close my eyes and ignore it, suddenly a sharp pain in my ear, The Mert has bitten me, cannot ignore it anymore. I sit up in bed and fling my legs to the wood floor, it is cold and the shock wakes me. The Mert steps into my lap and hops to hind legs, sitting like some kind of parrot. In The Merts mouth is a slip of paper... its becoming routine to me now. I take the paper, its is slick with Mert spittle... I open the slip and read the two words on it and sigh. I look to The Mert and he winks at me, turns, and walks from the room. I stand and follow knowing it is useless to resist, many painful lessons later I understand this. The Mert awaits me in the planning room as The Mert likes to call it. The Mert stands atop a silver case, it too is slick with The Mert spittle... he drools when he is excited. I take the box and open it. Inside is the same rifle that The Mert had me kill Ed Answer with, gleaming next to the gun is a single 30-30 shell, overloaded plutonium tipped hollow points filled with e-bola, The Merts personally made bullet. Shutting the box and securing the latches I head for the door, I am of course followed by soft padding footsteps. We drive to a Hotel and set up in a room overlooking the local television station and wait... The Mert sits on the sill as is normal and watches. He whips his head toward me and purrs. Its time. The rifle is comfortable in my hands as I bring it to my shoulder, eye down the scope and search for my target... tension builds in me, I cant bring myself to pull the trigger though I am tracking it across the parking lot. I feel a soft nudge at my finger, looking down I see The Mert staring coldly at me, evil in its eyes. There is no fighting it, sight up again and pull the trigger...POW..... Martha Stewart is dead... The Mert and I go to the car and head back to the safe house. I feel sick as I watch The Mert do what can only be described as, laughing, laughing maniacally.
Monday, August 19, 2002
The Mert and I stand in the window.... slight wind from the east, maybe 6 mph, the curtains flutter, but not enough to reveal us, humidity low, visibility good, temperature 75 the gun is cool in my hand. The Mert scans the street, purring softly. Time passes the gun and I are one... The Mert turns his head to me and merts. I nod and take from my vest pocket a single 30-30 round and slide into into the breech of the gun... the bolt in well oiled and the action slides forward and clicks home with litle effort. The caps come off the scope and drop to the floor spinning like two coins, I take a deep breathe and raise the rifle. As the gun comes to my shoulder I see the Mert rubbing his paws together in anticipation, Ive never seen him like this, the excitement coming off him is thick and cloying, it instills in me the desire to finish my task and please The Mert.... you DONT want The Mert on your bad side. The scope is at my eye now and i scan the street, there is my target... another deep breathe, I can hear The Mert shaking and making a noise I can only descibe as a giggle, though that cant be. Slowly squeeze the trigger... altitude, wind taken into consideration, BOOM the rifle rocks back against my shoulder, the noise deafening in the small room.... I bring the scope back up to my eye and check my target... direct hit, Ed Asner is no more... The Mert merts questioningly, "its done" I say, The Mert purrs and walks from the room and in the doorway turns to look at me as if to say, "you are done.... for now" I bow my head and know there is nothing for me to do but obey the will of The Mert, I put the rifle away and head for the getaway car and drive to the safehouse... and wait.
A rabbit crawled into my head this morning and told me the tale of a young Rabbi named Piffle... then he licked my nose and I died.
I hate when that happens
Sunday, August 18, 2002
Sunday, August 11, 2002
4:37AM - yup
nice clean empty journal ready for boo
well except for these three entries it's clean
4:36AM - boo boo boo
this is a nifty style
4:36AM - journal for boo
this is an entry by eris in the journal for boo
which boo will probably erase
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