Spooky Stole My Noodle

Spooky Stole My Noodle
scanning the floor for leftover appendages.

Thursday, August 28, 2003

Out of the way of the fast approaching holocaust, Spooky (quoted here out of context, utterly) has spoke such words as I've no choice but to expungulate here:

Perhaps it's time to put our efforts into something productive. Or maybe it's just time to stop and find something new to explore. Have Blogs killed the webchat? All that insular introspection? A parade of one's innards to a gallery of nobody? A personal broadcast that doesn't even fall on deaf ears? If you shout "ME ME ME" in the woods and there's no-one there to hear it, are you still a self-centred egotistical bastard?

I don't know if I know what any of this means, but I feel certain that I'd be remiss if I didn't allow these words to grace these pages, even if he won't put them here himself. I am confident these are words of pure genius, and I'm simply trying to step out of the way of the light being cast.

Look there, the shadow of my foaming shelf.

posted by Kingo Sleemer | 4:16 PM

Tuesday, August 26, 2003

Spooky Put a Poop

posted by Kingo Sleemer | 5:51 PM

Sunday, August 10, 2003

I've never been to a Fletchers to see a rabbit. I went to Fanchers to see a Rabi once, but he said I wasn't Jewish so get outta there. Then I peed in my pants because I was so sad.

I didn't eat breakfast for a whole day after that. In certain circles I became a pariah, and they wouldn't eat with me or come near me. In other circles, where I'd hardly rated at all before, I became nearly like a rock star. The girls asked me to sign their breasts and laughed when it made me cum in my pants.

These crowds were crowds that placed high value on one's willingness to mess one's pants in various ways in public. They talked of a shadowy, legendary figure often, who had shat himself while standing on an Interstate blocking traffic. I never figured out if this was a real person or not;

at any rate they all said he wasn't around anymore.

I could never bring myself to shit myself, though, so eventually my novelty for them wore off and the girls stopped letting me sign them and so I stopped messing in my pants and so I fell out of favor. I found another crowd of guys who'd once been popular with the self-messers but who'd for whatever reason stopped being self-messers and so fallen out of favor with them. These guys all thought I was
pretty okay, but they never took me to see a rabbit.

posted by Kingo Sleemer | 1:56 PM

Tuesday, August 05, 2003

Folded Beside the Crease

I was welcomed with a platter of fishfins. All colored and shiny, just recently removed from their living hosts. Looking around the room I saw a man with a well-maintained manicure cooling his face in the fishtank. All of the fish therein, though, still had their fins.

Later, in the room at the top of the stairs where the lightbulbs never work, I put my shoulders under the carpet and left through the pinhole in the blind.

posted by Kingo Sleemer | 6:26 PM

Friday, August 01, 2003

A grim favour, I supplant my energy with a new form of exterior paint. Let them vomit baskets of mentodent.

Besides, I like it in here with my cases and my lame excuse. Watch this way when the sun rises red.

posted by Kingo Sleemer | 6:17 PM

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