Kidnapped by Pharmsupply

"Life often seems hard, but you have a range of emotions."
[Here they smack Hoolie hard with a mace upside the head. The mace is made of a stick, some rope, and a punching bag what they hit you with, even though a punching bag usually get hit. That irony is what should eventually egg you to break.]
"Can you really say yor worse off than someone less advantaged."
[Smack.]
"You know when we had yor mother sitting in this chair she peed herself...
Can we count on you to make everything right?"
[smack]
"Whut?"
[Smack]

The legend say Ted and Sylvia came a bailout the Pegyuh while she carry the Hoolima zygote and slip her something in a red box.

Hoolie wonder who now gonna come for me.

He could take an attitude "I do time hard time in life; captivity is a spiritual journey where I'm free."
He could try and get his heart around: "You can cause me pain, but will not change my backward generations. My progenitora, a lesbian, needs my screams to bring me to her once more."

Sadly, Dr. Thong was tied up and stifled in the shadows, tears of regret in steaming flow behind her brank. Pharmsupply had tricked Hoolie there by forcing Donna, his co-dependent, to call him up for a check-in.

Donna Thong begins rocking her chair to the tempo of the Disco Years. She knows that Hoolie can receive the sound and be with her in a place, on an evening. The music and colors had begun for the first time at her practice as she unbuttoned his shirt for a totally routine examination of the abs. She had onee ever seen those shimmering metallic tones of purple and blue, apart from Sears, on one squawking, swooping, fitty-pown mess of pre-historic, chank-layin, chall-attackin poulet: the now-extinct monarca d'ensalago.

"Just take me out," he had begged. "Put me down."

When they woke up later under the table in a sea of mini-bar bottles and PaxPox wrappers, they knew that God's whole sick cycle had begun.

Hoolie Discussion Board: Crack inda Wurl

His personal sense of terror says the alien suns will blot out our most salient light, which is only magma, a source more of searing heat than be able to read by it. For this Chama has ahways elected Ruler of Night or Mistress of Dark third shift, 12-8am, and for that Hoolie grow seeing taboo forces ina chillun so small.

When the Mthyuh open up her mos cruelest flood, other wurls behine can look through.

They may fine Hoolie so inncent they can take and hold him under pertective torcher.

Nirvanic System

Ex-con, brainwashed ex-gay, you rock mai hardons.
Your huge thighs and ass along with spiritual comen
-tary make your nips pop erect in m'mouth, swinga.

Ex-cop, ex-model, ex-mental healthful patient: now
nobody own you and you can unspin. You beg to Mt
-hyuh on my rug nekit, look like leaving a futr open.

I am here to receive you and you caynt fine me stud.
Here youda one and you can't take my word pityboi.
Donchu rmember Chrast? Hoolima? Wrk is dun, foo!

PAIN... and everything in between

Ex-con christian boogarball coach all up in your place one second like the seven sluts of Muhalala next he beggin yor toilet bowl for reconsideration into the kingdom. Muttering babl gloss to his self laka red letter study edition for flagellators. He fine it most erotic insteada in out it's yes no insteada up down it's "Eat me now, Mthyuh. I'm not wurthi."

Curse of D'Yoot

Time is running out on me, not vice-versa.
It's not a death sentence, but it jus may be
The sentence they say right b'fore We Dai.

Notice nobody mine celebrating if it's over.
But the young keep up they treachery; dis
-dain or obsequiousness odda two choices.

They handicapped as zygotes in a fas wurl,
Dragging they bluddie chords, and notice h
-ow we godda bree dey sent t'bleev o relax.

This is Where they End up when it Hits them

They walk on the stones carefully like they on vacation or in a museum. Try to cover up they purpose they mission they purple trajedies. Sit in the cafes like no one else be there for that reason. This is a town like the postage stamp town where they have a nice fountain but onee fokes go for to get da stamps.

Mothers circle the tourist center like a bee or it's an abortive flytrap. Caynt jus walk in. O they assfo a glass of milk. Some are sipping shiv awday from a rubber tube so they dont bend an give it all away.

I took my son here. He say itsa place to pray. Now he gone into fire and screaming shame.

Kevin Reynolds' Mom

My armpits smell different at this altitude
Like somebody's plans, all musty.
Way down in the valley, they are garlicky,
something living.
While I'm here it may seem I'm older;
It may be the stress of the ropes and
airborne cement. Or,
somehow I've come to lose him and find
him at the same tam.
Oh my Mthyuh, I'm Kevin's mom and I
cayn't fine ma boi.

Enforced Attire

The brutal snake charmer's wife made out another list.

• P-coats are the enforced attire per GQ dickheads.
• Each of them would have been singled out and picked on in other chanks.
• Cuddle
• They aren't even warm enough (cuddle).
• Check on all the ones hoove bin throwing shade r way.
• Cuddle
• I've got to leave him. I feel him sucking me.
• The body is too painful at that heat level.
• No one can get close to me, said the flaming chal.

"My biggest shame of all is the desire to cuddle, and only the Chama can know it." Reptily

HEADACHE! Peggy Speaks Out

Well that's just it, I told them, when they first asked me why I wanted to do it, and I wasn't expecting that question, I explained it in terms of it piques my lit-crit clit, it gets me all up in the prostate of my mind, that kind of thing, and but whut I dint tell them was, well that's because maybe I didn't know it then even as my All Knowing self, that wow yeah, it goes way deeper than that.

And, right, I was trained! What a waste. I can't even say that I remember any of it now. Because it was just so godamn important in the grand scheme of things, thought some bozo, who? we may never know, that I go AWOL.

The kids-- props, I hope. God forbid I was really their mom. That would just ice the whole tragic mess. What... can I remember? How can I explain? I just... you know all I feel here, rubbing my temples and scalp, is pain. And everything in between. Pain! It's all that's left.

Shivbar

Hoolie had scared everyone by passing out early so someone found a tab of windowpane in the glove box and slipped it under his Perfek Pink-Brownish tongue. In his oversized tan wool coat and fur leggings he came to like a bird's head popping up from a pool. They gave him a sharp knife and dropped him at the doorstep of a shivbar.

An elderly wiseguy in a Johnny Cash outfit greeted him with good-humored jadedness. There was a combo: two guitarists, a bass with a bow, and a polka master. "Who's that?" Asked the Hoolima. "Gilberto Whoopti-Sanchez and the Whatdaphux," answered the bawdy bouncer. "They're just doing a sound check right now-- should be starting in about seven minutes. I traida tell them: dooyer practicing at home, you know? Ha ha." Wiseguy addressing the ostensibly blind jazz organist on his off night sitting at the bar. "Waincha practice foya get here, y'know? Ha ha. Right Jimmy?"

Everyone loved Hoolie there, or so it seemed. Lovely Linda came right up to him with her throat uncovered; this was before she died. "Look what you've got!" she commented.

"I'd like to drag this lightly across your throat," said he, smiling, while doing so.

Linda was frightened and excited. She loved Hoolie, so she had some crazy faith that she would not die. In fact she didn't. Her subsequent death was unrelated.

She was sensitive enough to know that a tiny curly shrivel of the topmost layer of the skin which lie across her trachea was being shaved away and falling into His Perfek Pink-Brown palm, and that was all. She felt as though she had to trust someone just then.

Suddenly everyone Hoolie knew had ventured out into the rain and instead an impossibly beautiful young couple had taken a seat at the bar. They had shiv stones right in front of them but neither was going to lower their head for the tiniest lick. They were broke, he fantasized. They wanted all the beauty and meaning of this historic place without having to pay the price. But the longer he waited he knew that wasn't it. They only looked at one another, and all the more beautifully when knotted in that gaze. Hoolie asked the waitress, an elegantly aging goth chick, to send them a fresh dose on him, but only if they asked for one first.

Then the second guitarist was looking into his eyes and stroking vigorously to accompany his master. Between sets, the second guitarist stood in many places: near the service area, ordering for himself and taking in the compliments of the barkeep while letting his tawny brown eyes reflect in Hoolie's glass of port. Next to a column roped with Plaster Grapes, perfeckly in alignment with Hoolie's eyes. Standing speaking with the dark-spectacled accordionist while they drank, Peeping Gingerly over his colleague's shoulder into Hoolie's eyes.

In his dream, the second guitarist, a gaunt hungarian type named Kevin Reynolds, came up to Hoolie and whispered, "Darling you are too young to be sending Teary-Eyed Drinks to young lovers in nightclubs. Your true homage should be to those who can respect and appreciate the glory of your Ripened Manhood."

In reality, of course, Hoolie got tired of the suspense and went next door for a Bedtime Sandwich.

But songs began to well up in him.

Ebb Tide Show Lounge

Look, you can hire swarthy bitches who ack like yor place is a nasty dive,
Or you can hire fine bitches.

Each is cool in their way, doll. You jus don't have the weight down there
to declare your weapon, baby.

Wooden chew laika fine white bitch with a real straight wig and blue lips to take
on yor PR daddy you no u do.

You say premium you say upscale we think we getting nice not rough, swingah.
Zisda Ebb Tide Show Lounge?

Bitter and Out of Control

"Promise of our love? Promise of a new tomorrow with the kids? I say the whole concept of a holy family is overrated and that no promise compares to the the tangy, wet prognosis of a cold, fresh cocktail. Boy! Make it a dubba."

Peg lets the mail slate drop to the floor, where it shatters. The silken flaps and tendrils of her robes are revealed, unfold across mirrored and embroidered cushions, which hover just centimeters above the filthy cave floor.

"...and find my son!"

The Pegyuh's suddenly violent and earsplitting command sends a light breeze across the Chanklands, rustling blades of grass and temporarily contorting the naturally heavenward trajectory of ritual incense spew everywhere. Her tiny palatial servant, a prepubescent Crack baby, is thrown into an epileptic seizure for fear of fucking up her drink order.

Thud

Worshipers use the leather bells for when so the K's can't hear them. The catch is they have to stay close if they want promotions and propaganda, or risk missing they meal. Once a K swooped and shat like a door stone right in they soup and bit the head off a chal. The news could onee be bra cass in dull thud, so it travel slow.

Flying F-Suit

Awda prees made her a ceremonial parka called a Flying F-Suit. It mocked the fin-like webbed spines rising from the crown of the K cocks and their awkward, remote-control ability to clear ground despite they priusnear chal weight. The winter version of the garment cast a squirrel-like shadow when she'd pass over the rooftops and center stones in the hives or up against the superchanks and their cave holes at sunset. It was a beloved sight, but sometimes worshipers didn't know if it was the Chama or one of her security mannequins. Every year, a dummy is shot down by flakes or caught in one of Mthyuh's middle fingers of flame.

Laf'n Heyl

Peggy roo da lanz
Chama roo da ska.
Peggy got da man
Chama kep d'chal.
Chilun wuna mom
Mama wuna man
Manee tayka bryd
Brydgo offwit Tom.
Tom wurkata skoo
Skoo a doe da heyl
Heyl is fulla birdz'n
Birdz hep telda tayl.

Bitch Come Back

Bitch come back to this hole so's I can fill you.
Witch climb on up da rope that saw you split.
Womachall whai you ack so crazy? You awred
-ee own da lanz. You awredee da ansr to awd
-a prayrz. Do you need mor histry foda books
? Cayncha jus stan nau on yr looks? You sexy
as da goddess of destruction. Youda link betw-
een da en anda beginnin of da wurl. Bitch come
back an fu-fil da profisy anda promis of R love.

Hoolie Discussion Board: Connie's Funny Demise

That time Ted came home and spoke to Connie's cold rotting shell, even tweaked a nipple without noticing her death, was a time when Ted was not conscious and not on a path. Thinking it had been his fault was the beginning. Connie was just a drifter trying to fill her hole, as were many of the foreigners who happened by when the Preservation Society was still in operation. He found he cared for others, though. He had senses of justice priusnear that of a prees. On that night he imagined himself a hideous creature with four arms, two of which should always have held her, no matter what else it was he was doing.

Connie had died because of the miscalculation of the most holy and misguided of deities: Peg. Her recklessness, her carnal nature, her powers are unpredictable. She is ditzy and from her indecision and avarice and folly comes the milk we suck to live.

Connie's pain took her over. She could not lick shiv and be pure for her fugitive mom and also live beyond the pool, the gravitational distress of the beacon. Peggy has a dark pool, and the beacon may be so dim that there is not fire enough to reach her whole. This is how Peggy sacrifice her chilluns without that goal. She holy but a flake.

Peggy's Last Chance

If someone would marry me, I'd come back. I'd take a high cave near Mthyuh with her steam falling across the front holes like curly bangs. Before the grafting my perp and me we'd have a nest of K's right there in the window box and send them out looking for my little ones. The four of us could briefly live as one before taking over each a hill or shivbar. We can pimp each other out as models and spokesmen. We can pose at the oracle for Volca. I would need to come out of my skin and sleep inside his shell at night.

Change in the Practice of the Shiv

Before being issued a work permit, worshipers will

1. take the Shiv Path test.
2. answers are filtered into categories
3. categories into diagnoses
4. diagnoses into prescriptions
5. prescriptions into your body
6. your body unto Mthyuh
7. Mthyuh gives you life.
8. Muhalalahalalala Mthyuh
   

network overlord

Lights went out in a whole chunk of chanks
at the same tam, and it was such a stunning
sight that Ted completely forgot what he w
-as going to say. The high cave mesmerized
him tho it was not the high cave but everyt-
hing that was not the high cave. Inside, the
atmosphere was highly unstable. There wa-
s rocking. There was trembling, swaying, s-
himmying. There was cunnilingus, cabbage,
crawfish. Doe-oni d's scenes of his people liv
-ing could feed Ted. The deal he'd struck wi
-th Pharmsupply was such an easy price co-
mpared to licking shivplate like a bat for 30
more year. Onee he and the Chama were n
-ow exempt. The others, well, they seemed
happy swarming over bones after Blood Sac
or painting dey bodies wit brightly colored c
-emen' slry or climb fast upandownda ropes.

Inny Tam Nau

Perd'n me, Cap'm, but there's been an event.
To see those chanks rockin would be like wat
-ching the Sears Tower do the hula. We fear
it may be geo-genealogical. Magma or saline
could start coursing from our veins any tam.

High Perch

In the high caves wind makes the skins flap hard.
You see what's speeding howling across our com-
munity: purple cranes fight a wind make it seem
da ho planet be turning. Da ho chank be rocking.

The clouds drag their curtains of illusion behind.
Up here it's too late to warn a co-worshipper ifd
-ey bout to get attack. So we watch instead the
way they glide, dive, scalp some po flake heyud.

K's fly feeling more dimensions than we can hav
-e without getting sick, six directions to choose,
aiming they K shape way they going. They mot-
or, move by solar, keep goin even wen dey ded.

high perch

she needed to be back where they'd known her all her life
or had helped to pluck her from a teenage primordial soup
and exemplified worshipstyle among the cement turbines.

she squats hideosly now on the chipped cement cave lip of
the highest chank in the Valley, Chukka. Her skin has resp
sponded to the breezes by going blue, and her spines r out.

i came here to Chukka Chank not as a spa trip, which woul
-d be assinine. These are smokin caves with lots of furs an
-d meats, jewel, hypnotic light, stewed game, shiv, curfew.

Weeda Blades

I believe every mother's gay son at this tablehood is a superior being.
Though I may be hard to look at, you know I am the albino slave of t-
he Chama, whom I called her 1000 WD ago Reptily, my black cousin
who have a spiny blue weyub come out her heyud laka brrd machene.

Chama have to chant for food one a day resta her laif but you and i ca-
n taker as a example of a wicked laif but a happy laif become a unhap-
py laif topda crispy cleanan laffa virtue, always dooda chores, confess.
Weeda blades who gots to spread da news abouts huh pains and blues.

Like a Crane

You in the shivplate bazaars
walking doubled over becuz
administration does not indi
-cate bending the knees or a
llowing much to creep into t-
he esophagus. Ever more bi-
rds and promises, so little ha
ppiness in our land. Talking b
-ack and forth looking at one
another's socks. Licking. Talk
-ing. Licking. Smiling. It's so
painful. The birds are shams.

Lick More Shivplate

i think the goal is not nothing
; the goal is a little something
added beyond what's natural.
to sweeten a cup of tea or for

-n even, she goes beyond into
a realm of sacred non-reason
where only a god can set you
free. then she form changes.

peggy is a woman and more,
but as a woman, she is most
-ly ecstatic. this helped her t
-o subversively participate i-

n a Flounce commercial. if yo
-u read her lips, there was a
special message. You hear "F
-louncy baby," see "Pharma.

Phorn me, Pharma." she use
-es her natural carnal lawles
-sness to make a very spirit-
ual point: lick more shivplate.

Cementula

you wore gloves when you examined my penis;
donna would've used her skin to touch. you see
-m to have nose with me, while sympathy; you
think that i will fit my own description in the DS
-M. donna openly admires me, butch. even as s-
he soothes my pain. she knows that i am an irre
producible copy of a ficticious male in the indust
-rial magazine of the highway trade: Cementula.

The Craw

Chamatilly warm up the room:

Nau, yall come to me and you know which ones, who you are, every day i see ya cumup t'me nau, yu cumonup t'me nau and yu sez:

Chama, Chama I tellya i wanna, wanna
an i say y'don't hafta hafta, cuz the way
the rose grows chillun, what's the word
I'm after? Mozis. MOzis. Mozis. When t
-he rain hit da barn anda elemental hitd
-a ethereal farm that the misunderconc-
luzhuns begin to happen, happen. The c-
ment duss be mixing witda offrins an in-
sence and pity pie? is wenda sky start t'
open, open. Can it fly, they wanid t'no. C
-an it take to d'winan leave dem chiluns
behine, and of course you and I can say
cuz we livd to see the day when her life b
-ecame a way, chile... for every woman n
-au, every lady grrl lovin b'be womachal.
We know the sun went down and it stay
-ed that way for a wal. Mo longa than a h
-dred day, boyz. Ahm swe'in bullets whe
-en I try to tell you bout the tam when t-
he heavens met the seas but because no
one believed, baby oh yes: it didn't happ-
en. So when I tell you that by Peggy, she
, that monogram of womanhood in a form
-fitting and pressed uniform, except a re-
al doctor? It was inspiring to everyone. M
ost of all, Rick: who has given his life a nu
mber of times up to her, and finally, all up
in her. They say there is an "eschew"; so-
me call it "The Craw," where one day you
will come out. No, not born again, but real
-ly uglier. It will be another chance at life
for you, but with much more pain from sc
-ars that look as if you had thrown yours-
elf into a live volcano. Oh, wait-- I forgot.
You did throw yourself into a live volcano.

The entire congregation was standing and
applauding, even as they stooped to wipe
their tears on a co-worshipper's shoulder.

It was something came out during Volca years before, and they let her keep telling it now, as if she had earned tenure or had passed a rite of gases and would no longer have to suffer by torture but rather, now, and she preferred it, the torture borne of being a major source of pain for others, and beyond the pleasure of that, the building and maturing ability to self flaggelate and blood manage with no supervision. Because Illyn had taken it upon hiself to self-feed the Mthyuh, he had now lost any sort of nose terror over the Chama. She had always known and had been planning, at some level, his return and her rightful slow retribution: the collection of his debt to her being Top Bitch: he forced her to be moral by feeding drugs intraveneously that gave her a conscience, then convinced her to be true to her lying and theiving background. It made her stronger, but it had not created loving between them.

They Did this To Her

Even if it was Donna, it wasn't Donna.
No one could have snapped like that.
Dr. Thong is professional, pretty, pr-
etty professional, and professionally
pretty. That was some thug parading
through my tale impersonating Dr. T-
hong. Donna Thong is caring and slim.

Albino Slave Sport a Red Afro

Chamatilly old slave Ilyn who legend say went over the edge in Volca, somehow he return. Chamatilly think about covering her ears so her brains don't sputter bloody out, think about that and roll her head around and screech, but instead she just weep in he lap.

"Illyn you my slave always and always come back cuz i own you till i die not till you die." Reptily

Doctorate of Cement

It oozes everywhere in these parts. Dr. of Cement Thong stands over there in plaid with her stomach out, an obvious department chair, fat cigar stub in her mouth. She's got some kind of racing tickets for a charity for victims of racing. She's all, "We'll take you: your bitch against my bitch." Then she sit back pickin hard spots offer pants while the grrlz go at it. Like a slingshot snapping, she'd thrown over her natural loving care for men to a feminist battleground mentality, bombs literally bursting overhead. In the meantime, cement moved but moved glacially imperceptibly through the valley, God's vicious cycle.

"There is always more, yet only one of each of us, and we are being ground chilluns all up in it." Hoolie

distruck-shone

To the mother vol-
cano, there is no hu-
nting; the food kill
itself and jump in
your mouth. Are
you in? Now that we
have centuries of da-
ta we find we're rare-
ly wrong. We want no-
t only to record but al-
so guide the
metamorphosis of yor
distruck-shone.

You Pick up Whatever's Handy

you pick up whatever's handy
when yor flingin wurds luvins.
something might could be sha
-rp or heavy nufta knock meo
my chilluns out. Why'n cha try
canny-o chahklut nestime boi.

time doesn't

time doesn't time isn't
it's the clock that clock
that moves. time does
-n't time isn't it's the c
-lock that moves. time
doesn't time isn't it's t-
he clock that moves. t-
ime doesn't time isn't i
-t's the clock that mov
-es. cclock that moves.

All-Male Gay Nude Hemp Farmers

Gol, just a little fire drill, and everyone's
groverling before gods and murdering th
-eir firstbornz. Grow up, collective. We t-
he dults now. We pragmatic inda face uh
storms: dey moths 2 flame. Mud, the sa-
-me. Clouds of arrows, solar radiation, b-
rothers save the nation on they two feet.

She Fell for This

to come across an ex-stripper, gal of any age,
is to find, while drinking, a ruby in your soup.
to run into an exotic dancer when he's boy no
longer? Neat pile of tobacco on a stack of wat-
ermarked parchments deeds contracts notes.
For you to go to the place where you're ass m
-ust save your ass's life: one phone call away.

Amanecer de Mi Tierra

Entre los libros y embutidos
en la mesa de mi corazon,tia
tu eres mi luz eterna y mi a-
mante lesbiana. Tu: trapo fu
-erte pero como seda a la ve
-z, llevame mujer a nuestra
promesa de oportunidad. ba
-tate los labios aqui en pleno
cielo; que produzcas vomitos
de pasion, morbo, y sentidos.

Horrible Violent Shithole

"Chang K. Chang Chank Jr. High is a horrible, violent shithole," by Hoolie

Butt come to find
it's really towers
of shit. And oh so
brutal! I longed f
-or the world of a
-dults to rescue m
-e in its shady ar-
m. Meanwall, chi-
cks in white lipst-
ick scratched and
kicked and verba
-lly assaulted and
exposed themself
indecently to me.

Parallel Universe

Craving is a heartthrob;
beating is a song.
Crying from the stomach,
eating needs a job.

Work is contribution;
off'ring is a prayer.
Begging as forgiveness,
indulgence is to fear.

manolo y lesley

Yr mind fkn finds ways ok?
If da Pharmsupply go south
an Tedsda only one witta jo-
b, you come here you stay,
hey, who-dat inna poo? Wa-
i, dat ol manolo n lesley an d
-ey jus fabulous chall! u brin
-g yr sleeping bag, cuz we th
-ink you fabulous too cuzzin!

hot and bright

hoolie's light is its own long day
boy make an average face grey;
so quick to his feet to fight or s-
eed. Hoolie on a hi white horse,
hoolie in a scramble on a steed;
boy make da glint in steel seem
damp; boy lug a whyt-hot lamp.

Dare Ye t'Come Fwd

if we could only have some beer and sing once a week, all together, not in a church
we might still get red in the face and colon cancer and divorce or throw up silver,
but there we'd be on a Frydee's eve with a steaming kidney pie and a pint of spittle.

mod child

mod child, you blame yorself
mod child, yor daisy frowns
mod child, yor invested in color
mod child, what a large belt buckle
mod child, you wear a Sears medallion
mod child, even domestic violence is mod
everything you do mod child
could be on a color tv or in space
you could be reduced to black and white dots
why can't others feel the love that you want
[and freeze]

Burnt Issue

Studies show that patriarchy was invented by women in order to give their husbands something to do peace time and to stay on track even while out plundering. Sure, mono-theism asks you to choose a parent. But which one is it? The Mthyuh while fathyuh lead a crusade? Is busy passing you thru her living tissue, chall. Yor rostrum is forged in her loin and you are her tanline. She is the hive plugger while males drone. Another commandment written on the human soul, however: that one sex is not enough. Any one gender will get cruel heady. So their worship must be binary to reap of it a nirvanic system. But since they suffer, one set of genitals in your face always. They reject a parent out of fear for security. Toss the soprano; keep the pit bull. He can't sing anyway, and she's a total bitch to those who might threaten our famly. Mthyuh: piquant going in and picaresque coming out.

BANDERILLERO

everything is, everything's so, everything is so uncertain
the blocks are akiltern; baby lizards can run out through
the cracks to play. No one to owe yor money to, but now-
here to get away. life is so upside down now lady, can you
even recognize me, yor slave? they forced a guy to strap
on horns in the ring and then banderilla'd him to a forty-
year loan. it's a W. D. when, to the bees, it's we who sting.

Naughty Somalians

When the hooded one arrives on his apple cart, steps down with a naked scythe?
When sudden death occurs there is a strong initial shock, and then healing begins. A major illness will extend the period of strong exposure and be more likely to create permanent collateral damage. Beyond length of exposure, intensity can fluctuate and climb, stressing out a worshiper's innermost marrow.

Are there any interactions or serious side effects?
Illnesses that provoke secondary expressions of violence, scatology or other dementia deepen the horror, widen the suck of the spinning drain of death. When multiple careers of morbidity overlap, especially in a close social network, death can stomp up and down, a sticking period key, a repeating decimal of dead.

Why do they keep them so long, and wouldn't it be more merciful to kill them immediately?
Well, the fact is that if push came to shove and we'd have to admit it, we kinda like having them around for as long as we can. It's like sitting on yr balls. We grow accustomed to their valiant little defiances; their quirky pronouncements and curses; their cute, spirited jabs from the sidelines. We know how under-it-all dependent they really are on our goodwill, and that makes us fuzzy.

What is your view on the abolition of Blood Sac?
It seems to keep people calm, especially the young mothers for some reason. Nobody needs to say a word, as long as we know it's happening and we can go to see for ourselves whenever we want. In fact, I hear they've been poorly attended of late. Sure, the opposition pretty much gave up after they couldn't get a retraction on the Sac they did on that what was her oh Chang K. Chang. That was because she was such a beloved living maiden that for her to "only milk Mthyuh in hell always" indicated selfishness on the part of the Preservation Society and maybe even envy slippin out some of the high preistesses while we know that's just potty. It's a controversy of the past, certainly. Today's worshiper is just bored with it. It may eventually be won by the inane above humane, as they say. It's all about cultural stewardship for me, and that's what I've shown you crossing over. I say get in my boat and I'll take you there and now here we are. Now there's someone can bring you on to the next big bend.

Tom
CEO, Pharmsupply
A Year to Another Year

Windy Mouth of Mthyuh

Looking into her, there is mostly paste of fog, not her breath. Her steam/ perspiration. There are legends that explain all that. Then over to the right is Shame of Mthyuh, where her "spittle" is released in an ever-humbling reminder of her own giddy stupor of imminence. This is a noxious mix of sulfur and molten aluminum. But then towering above, as balance, or ballast, are the famous Pride of Mthyuh, the t-chanks. They really seem to say, "I'm all that." And if you don't think so, howbouda dubba-berra? Others have posited that these chanks, like their many cousins in the region, are really the petrified guano towers of now-extinct salty lake queen cranes or monarcas d'ensalago. The last known queen was shot near the Nevada border after her dizzyingly metallic sheen and spirited aggressiveness became part of a 1950's ufo mixup.

These hovel-hived hills building gradually to reveal the truly terrifying gape of the Mthyuh Centre site are so full of history and tradition, which has almost always been a tradition of history, that history itself seems to have left its proverbial wheel ruts in the winding, postcard rack-lined stone walks. Surely the movements of these, each speckled warm litter, scarcely more than temporary stewards of this obscene rendering, by nature, of nature's own truth and who have long since been ground themselves to dust by her avenues, having taken the tinjid waters from baptismal to dethbed spongebath-- are as real now as time itself, if not more. If not more.

Hoolie Discussion Board: Hoolie Now

They go Hoolie talk again like a hymnal, some kind of Judis speaking as a pree-so holy fathyuh. He think he immortal an fit to be keen someday soon. Look like a baboon with his nipples showing drinking out of coconuts chall. What he thinkin? We all know, all the chilluns know, the bitches know, the boys know that he is trapped as the son of a holy permanently outshining shivstar. He will never be anything at all, or he will be something humble. Let's see which he choose.

Yet Nor is Oxygen Carried (Momen Foda Jung Kits)

when gender switches to the subconscious,
food coloring bleeds upside down up a cele-
ry stalk, but for a few crucial moments the
-re is acheived a rift: in that junk hitting y-
ur reason'n lorls, yet nor is oxygen carried.

The Brutal Snake Charmer

The brutal snake charmer's wife made out a shopping list:

craving
craving w/ anger
fear @night
holding breath
burning shame
tense
shame
resolve
shame
surrender
sadness
sleepy
morbid ideation
headache
craving

They danced while he scared everyone to death.

Another white woman came here, face of trajedy. I tell you I take yor trajedy an jor watch, Reptilly say. They leave der loved ones feed of Mthyuh, come back down alone, one less. They wander up a street looking for food with a credit card. They step from a cab in big sunglasses, being strong.

He sons are stammering slaves. Only she can run him. Now she become a deity and leave him broken selling hairs from her brush as souvenier.

It's not Sustainable, Grrl [The WMV]

Too complicated getting sound files to stick; here's a video you can just listen to, chall.

fourteen months oughta be a monument to something baby
you cant juss say you gonna go and quit on me now womachal
y'got two kids and it seems like yor gonna hava nervous breakdown
corporations callin ona telephone tryna makeyuh pay yo dues nau
cantcha stick witme tellwe figure ifwe gonna go brakeda banko fo-cloes

misery
and growing old
withoutchu woma i cd layme downan close my eyes dontchu see-e?
youma co-D penna docta lady fo-a cobra vacci-ine.

ponies with hats

It's not Sustainable, Grrl

fourteen months oughta be a monument to something baby
you cant juss say you gonna go and quit on me now womachal
y'got two kids and it seems like yor gonna hava nervous breakdown
corporations callin ona telephone tryna makeyuh pay yo dues nau
cantcha stick witme tellwe figure ifwe gonna go brakeda banko fo-cloes

misery
and growing old
withoutchu woma i cd layme downan close my eyes dontchu see-e?
youma co-D penna docta lady fo-a cobra vacci-ine.

Donna Thong, Donna Thong.
Doctor Donna, Doctor Thong.

Meadows and Shores

The city is entry slurry, coming in through airborne pockets or crossing land like a miserable red ant.
These peoples are processed here and sent in tubes to the bucolic-sounding lands, if ever.
They are sort of filtered through stoney brookside meadows and rolling pinewood greens.
Through glen or forestlake river valley, there are additional meadows and shores.

Finally, experience death or assimilation into desert religious sects.
We beg the greening of a septic vision, and we find daisies crawling screaming from each straw end.

--anonymous bullcrap

Juniper Dreams of Being an Urban Human

Bread and meat with gravy over it is all you need. Thick ground black pepper or even the powder in a tornado from a stainless and glass shaker, deep-fried pork tenderloin and crispy cottage fries with lots of smooth creamy brown gravy on mashed can get you make you stare at the cashier on the phone while yor waiting or corner-eyeing the street crowd in the picture winda at yor booth. Someone could pound on the glass or squat and pee there without being noticed much. All you care to care about right now is your ice water and napkin. You dive into the crunchy mess when it comes with both hands and all of your attention. It's treating both sides of your brain to the attitude of a chef who can hate staying these long hours and make you insultingly decent chow like what, you can't do this at home? You chew and think how you want to come back again and again and will tip the waitress well, for every decade another dollar, and she dresses more like a movie star. You picture the manager and a pig and a frier, the cook and the freezer supplier in an internecine sqabble that ends in feasting and gobbling crunchy globs of hot, greasy snow.

OX

Silently, Babe the Blue Ox stands painted blue,
wrinkles of rippled paintovers. I knew a sales-
lady like that in the Loop, Bunny. Her perfume
smelled like brownies, and her brownies smelled
like perfume. Babe saw no one like her, if she had
been alive, passing by for 30, 60 years. These w-
ere wholesome meaning not urban families. The-
yd already had a good dinner at home and show-
ed up from less than a day's drive away, or wer-
e from some other town where they could get t-
he same and had taken advantage of one of the
typical family-owned road cafes. Babe had noth-
ing to do with advertising meat, no more than P
-aul, anyway. There was no mostly frozen steak
restraunt there at their feet-- only a parking l-
ot and a big antique cage. This was a turist spot
where one could pick ones teeth with pine trees.

Already Dead

This, then, is the tomb of granite and
stainless steel I signed up for with my
Sears card. At 33%, I find the televis-
ion is less distracting on a higher volu
-me since I don't have to strain to he-
ar between the product chanting. I fin
-d my favorite shows don't even requ
-ire video and I can listen while not m
-opping floors or working out. This is
my way to spin, only my fingers mov
-ing to speak, and even then reluctan
-tly. I can do impressions of the anno
uncers. My dogs don't chime in, but t-
-hey are kind enough. Sometimes, I'll
peer over the screen at the front win-
dow. so many insincerities on the air-
waves. i flop back and forth in betwe-
en vigilance and. my whole brain is c-
hecked out, except for that part that a
-llows me to speak. When yor ded, go-
ing to sleep seem like a challish game.

dull leather bell

yung wombmate, yu must forgive me
for i contact you only once on a manic
mission, once eighty fortnights. when
i come up for air, i scream back thru t
-he ages, and there you are, the same
flowered grrl. sometimes i have not e-
ven grown a year since i saw you ther
-e. only layers of shame and emprison
-ment blanket me from your hair and
flowing skirts and love, which i also h-
ave memories of in nearly half a cent-
ury slogging toward a dull leather bell.

MO-TOWN UBER ALLES

Ted'd followed some man who'd already ditched him to a communist rally in the dead of 1980 winter Detroit. Jammed in a boxy downtown gymnasium, he watched a hairy gal on a platform rant and rave until he felt he needed a drink. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU AND WHAT ARE YOUR CREDENTIALS?" he screamed.

The speaker, stunned, actually answered. "Why, I am JoAnne Studebaker and I am the Director General of the WSBI GMC [Greater Motor City]. It was clear they were all under three feet of snow, it was crowded and warm, no one was getting out until the thing was at an end, and even then at risk of trampling or fros-titty. During the blizzardy 8-hour trans-industrial tour from Mai-Kaina in an unheated car, Peggy found she could break off a hunk of her freshly shampooed hair like a fibrous herbal popsicle.

Later that night in a Group Apartment full of filing cabinets and armoirs, one or two Workers or Students with a blanket, a Mexican poncho or a polyester sleeping bag were situated roughly parallel, every few feet, as in a slave ship or graveyard. There was no smell of marijuana or drink, just lesbian tea.

Ted always felt they had been sent by someone, possibly Comrade Studebaker herself. They came and settled next to him easily after everyone had quieted down and the lights had been dimmed, as before a naked photo-op. He'd been granted a wide perimeter.

He felt their thudding behind him on the bare wood floor through the nylon that wrapped his clothes that sheathed his body, and there were sickly goosebumps on his back. They seemed to be slithering in and out of one another's sack. Then there were wet clicking and smacking noises, strange aggressive giggling.

The proverbial Sventlana and Judith had really shown him who was in charge of that political landscape. All the guests at the crash pad were polite and hushed. It occurred to Ted that these maybe were just spoiled ivy league kids with a denim and bandana fetish.

Peggy and he her own twin brother had still never met. Even in the womb they had been a hot throbbing membrane apart, jus' two pieces o' pie from the same automat, ass to ass.

Where was she nau? Where was she when he needed her not only to be but to be there and not only to be there but to be a woman?

Man Claims Hindu God Appeared In Plant Form

Man Claims Hindu God Appeared in Plant Form

Morning Edition, October 23, 2008 · A New York City man is convinced the elephant-headed Hindu god Ganesh appeared to him in his backyard as a purple flower.

The 4-foot-tall plant sprouted up between concrete slabs in Sam Lal's yard in Queens. He says the plant began to resemble an elephant's head and trunk. Lal, a Hindu, told the New York Daily News that the plant has healed his back pain.

"They say God comes in many forms. I figure this has taken the form of a plant to come into my yard and bless me," he said.

Yor a Real Woman Hooze Godlike

i say yor better than a deity only because
your a hero to me, realy, and in fact yora
real woman hooze godlike. Yor dignity and
grace in pain is a sign of yor jawbreaking s
-oul. Yor grace in pain is a sign u are bold.

the cheesy milk hags of a baby's unbaptized cravings

Now these bitches take up huge branches in the architecture of our minds and even reach somehow into the visceral, archetypal regions. They reign as they reek across centuries. They are the cheesy milk hags of a baby's unbaptized cravings; later, you can't see the future at all, and you can only even imagine it if you are looking into their widened pupils in the dark. They will nip at your calves until you use them for good. They beseech yor best impulse of the loin. They chatter their teeth as if to murmer or mock yor jaw wagging. These stinky girls with big butts can only offer you tongueloads of saliva and to fill yor gut. What if there were two!

Guide me Ho-ma

guide me home woman
guide me to prayer-o

wenna wirl-o manso stron
ma-needa woma company.

walk me thru this bigole
neighborhood, fo-I go grrl.

gai me hom-a nau woma
stop an pray-yay witme.

then we can catch a show
or lounge about ata bar-o.

guide me home woman
gai me to pray-yayer-o.

All about the Chilluns

The Sacrament of Blood was a loving rite, and everyone agreed about that cep f'the po muthya fo who they end up serving your kids for deena. It draws us together at this lean time of year and reassures us about our values: s'really all about the chilluns, idnit? We a famly, and this is a way i can give back to them every year. They hongry. We share in the joy and the bounty with all of our favorite neighbors and family members. Our co-worshippers. You allow us to see ourselves in God's own perpective: those who are not you. So, Hoolie: we congratulate you for this honor we are about to feed you on behalf of da Mthyah. She is soothed in your pain. We will sing along to it so you know that we are with you. That our love is with you, Hoolima. Ho-Hoolima, hoo-loo-loo-li-li-ma-ma.

1 hour. hoolie screaming
1 moment. steel blades sliding
baby crying
crowds erupting, cutlry
place settings slammed down
like an uptown diner, echo;
some famly members
understandibly disconsolate
in the counseling chamber.

Waste Box

What he'd wanted to convey folded all up in on itself like a credit security, a dimly glowering cardboard box.

Only Problem is they Torture You

Peggy held one wrist with the other hand to steady the shakiness. Every movement weight shift was a conscious embracing of searing, crippling pain. She could only smile if she remembered that in WD066, she had been cut off by a shopping box at the shivmart and wished just a fraction of her pain on the infractor. The pusher, a large man, died almost immediately with agonies. They made a cement pill for Mthyuh of him.

Peggy have incennive as well as desire. She got to go, go on. For one, she always itchy down there. Peggy like, "This is bullshit. Gemme a man down here." She only wanna drink and fuck. But she a deity, and so it goes, you gotta suave it on your streetcorner crew, take personal interviews, not too many speeches, live in a graciousness safely above the minimum mark for a milk slave of Mthyuh.

Ceremonies. That the main job of a milkuh. And they caint be cynical cuz when you do-- ooo watch it grrlz. You must believe it baby or you suffer so bad. You wouldn't burden your own family with dangerous knowledge, rational doubts, so why do that to yourself either. Under pressure, you'll have no idea, you won't be a fink. Only problem is they torture you.

Sinewy [the Mp3]

sinewy

sinewy bitch prad chal!

I Heart Peggy [the Mp3]

I Heart Peggy [the Mp3]

I Heart Peggy

peggy i always new you were mai fren
because you left your kids, two of them
to seek after spiritual enlightenment, you
know? fuck them! because you knew that
their pain
would carry them back. their pain would
carry them, carry them into yor arms again.

faiwere on my det bed
i dlet you guide me
I do anything you say

you, woman, are from a-
nother wurl, and i cannot
fine you less i take yr wor

you can santify me woma
only you can see me thrua
horra show, when ahm touch-an-go

She Gotta Bigole Heyud

Wachit grrls! She gotta bigole heyud.
an she gonna licki. She piss her own
daughter' beyud. Grrowl, piss, licki,
spread, she a bitchona water beyud,
were whichit could git sticky, freyun.

Gedditfaidit [the Mp3]

Pulled by the MPS.

Gedditfaidit

you try to get a little exercise
we put a liddle uh in the walk, babi
we no longa walk across town or up
and down and up the staircase of the
big city laif we chillin in suburbs in
the lakeside or fireside or rurl-militry
industrial chal, we got the firey crops
and jetting blue studs with their gleeming
sex appeal and rubber and steel, we got
greens and beets and subtle kill, beef,
cockatiel and swan, sparrows, cranes,
ptero-dactyls, reefer, guano, beans and
elevators, but only for grain, escalators
that feed poisons and metal to your brain
through every cavity we got the mill but it
aint for gaining strenth, if you get ill
you can try to catch yer breath waiting in
line with the wretched millions bleating to
break free from whut, mexico, bulgaria,
illinois and Pee, Wisconsin. we gotchur
brefass rolled up ina puffed up corn tor-
tilla ana cyanide wafer, movie stars in
hum vees an lemonade vests ducking into
the trailer half the day traina rest wal
da extras stay out na heat practicing they
no lines at all, practicing being: in lines,
not having: lines but just standing, extra-
like ina shadow of a trailer, not evena
trash-level environment by Mercan standers.

Chamatilly Begin da Volca

songs are prayers;
prayers are shit;
shit is gold;
what of it?

oaths are prayers;
prayers are bold;
cowards lie,
or so we're told.

God is dumb;
Dumb is loud;
Can love speak
In a crowd?

Push is shove;
God's above;
or if he's nuts,
fire will bless us.

Sinewy

Folks that surround Chamatilly, they all seem to know what she don't know. She a toe-cher awda tam. She's thinking it all part of the ceremonies and whatnot. It ain't. They just a laikit, laikit alot. Tor-cher Chamatilly. Thats why she so lucki. Being a shivstar, we wershup you chama, you biggie awda tam. Chamatilly aways in pain because she so ignorant. The Muthya Preservation Society even know boudit. The Community College of Cement know. The chilluns an the bitches know. It's a secret a bit from the Chama, but not so much. She so scared cuz she never thot she deserve a be a deity or a slave to da shiv, on the spot to milk the Mthyuh at the momen notice. She half 2B prepare, ahways. So she ahways givin up da ego to da shiv and thats so paynfl cuz she nothin much modan ego and sinewy bitch prad chal. She so fight it so she cn geddit, fighdit, geddit, etc.

Chamatilly Feel Crazy

Chamatilly feel crazy like it awl cumin 2 to an n.
They harrd all th' old shivlords, ones not sent to
prison, the torchrrrs. Gave them the job of call
-ing up folks on the phone saying you can make
it stop, only you can, any time. And jo mimimm
paymen eeyus: whatever. You can make it stop,
only you chamatilly an until theyun, we call you,
we call you woma ever naughtier laf. All nait lone
woma. We call you call you. Weda shivlords n we
gotchors baby. Chamatilly shake and sweat, turn
over. With the other ear exposed, she could hear
them writing letters. We know you in trubble cha
-l. don dowdit: we rspechu grrl chal. Yu beta pay.

Then sum wicked clerk walk up to a guy in a bar. Step right on his foot, with all he weight. Say mista. Hear you gotta anger prolm.

Well da udda say: I, well I, huh, uh, woe! say...uh.. you on my foot buddie.

An da clerk go, "Uh... idaynt yo foot. It belong to da Lo', bitch."

Chamatilly all ooo i aint even gotta foot dees daze ooo mami whaidai evuh evuh become a damn deity yall sheeyut. [etc.]

Rep-a-tily Livin' Room T'Nite

From terror to horror and
back to terror again, with
hot flushes of shame in bet
-ween. The fire shows a w-
all of water only eight feet
high, but it keeps on comi-
ng for thirty minutes. all r
hugging, scrambling up po-
les, not screaming OMG! n
-ow we can time it with a s
-top watch; then, you cou-
ld only stare, as if under th
-e spell of a venom, or cry.

Peggy Heard disinda Prizun Red Crescent Ward

They's all med wards. You in a ward you on meds. You a nurse you on meds. You a live you even dead you on meds. They checkin my pulse and my powers, all strapped down in a bed. The guns in green come in they say Correctional Officers, as in Correct-Ol, the laxative. They four hours sayin: mmm Jimenez waintcha geddus a peetsa. Mmm I cd go frwun. He say he a magician. It aint comin out. We hada pikim up frm Contraband Watch, no he wuzzina cell. Non-responsive. They say if he gonna lee-of, they gotta giv him da opa-shiv. Da only one ken lift da opa. Doc comes in an sez "iss unfortunate dahling but I've got to save you. It's my damn job." This man is a spoilt, the prisoner who ate contra-shiv and has to get it out in a bucket with guards and docs and clerks on overtime. Day say one broke all up inim. An if is condums, iz ownlee a manner of tam. They standing four hours waiting, I am in normal torture they have me now in a rack. other side o the curtain they saying what about the cubs. whut about da mets. fuck them they waiting for that bitch to shit out her cocaine? tax payer dolla make huh lisp an ask for a tube down her throat cuz she don't like da frooty tase of da lixuid aquative. Hunerd thousan dolla fora nurse an some bitches to surroun dis sociopat wit tits an ass an kindrids? It jus be gonna shoodout day say. It'll shoodout. An we'll have to cleenit. Iaint cleeninit. But itl b evi-dence. Shia, I ain cleeninit.

Only Exercise we Get

it may also seem paranoid that we
always running to the window if w-
e hear a sound on the street, other
dogs barking, any plastic tires be t-
hey on a Big Stone or the waste bo-
x. but I realize now it's all the exer-
cise me and the bitches get. unless
i run around in circles and letem ni-
p at my ankles in a useless frenzy,
we all sitting down or loungin out b-
ig time. we can hear that life is blo-
somming everywhere, and in burs-
ts, occasionally, right in the framey
ovda livinroom winda. weird grainy
film of an era, average people, on a
street. Through the polyshiv lace c
-urtain. while we? whose recordin-
g it? get this, bitches: if they try a-
nythin? you bite. they'll member it.

Grrl I Feel it's Time to Move it Uppi [the Mp3]

this is a good ver.

Grrl it's Time to Move that Thang on Uppy [the Mp3]

Grrl it's Time to Move that Thang on Uppy

Grrl Jus Moov that Biggi Thang on Uppy

Grrl I feel it's time
to moov that biggi
thang on uppy. Jus
moovit grrl. Moovit.
Moov that biggy grl
that thang on uppy.

Time to move along
no story here to tell
woman. Jus yo biggi
on da mappi blockin
awda traffik grrl yal.
You got to move grl
go on moov dat napi
thang......................

Grrl I feel it is time
to moov that nappi
thang on uppy. Jus
moovit grrl. Moovit.
Moov it on uppy grl,
dat thang is nappina
woma chal..............

Flipping Bacon Naked

Meat turn three taiymes
d'mo likely da burnya bb.
mai verge day cn be prr-
deen tinse, th'out no hep
frm th'nvirenmnt. yo be-
ss ment wurds? only mk
me frgitcha waleye focus
own cookin brefuss chall.

Rage Laid Bare Month

THIS IS THE MONTH OF RAGE LAID BARE

Hoolie Discussion Board: Month of the Tranny

Hoolie comes up to me, "yeah i've let down or gotten in fights with all my friends now, so maybe they'll finally leave me alone so i can drink and fuck. which is my natural state."

You know as well as I he'll start missing the fighting part soon. Any updates?
----------------------

yeah as a matter of fak miss thang storms in for the weekend snapping left and right like he's all that, the shaving kit all over th'bathroom and the lighter, squares, cenicero set on the poolside stonette. i'm like yeah just think of me as some homeless chick who hangs out in yor place and you just tolerate. he say yeah i already do bitch.

K's Rule my Emotion Sickness

Reptily because she developed the incompatibility early on before her shivpowers were implanted against the K-Names her force shield would now remain up always, even though the K's were again taking blood with the local alliance.

"Even standing facing one o' them full on, I feel a nauseation. I have to turn away and pull feathers over me."

Prepping now for Volca, only a few months away, unsettled matters become a concern. But then what wud scarification rites be without a scar. She shuddered thinking of the letter and where it would be place.

Fallen Woman

Name: Chama Tilly
Current Occupation, If Any: Ruler of Night
Duties: I rule the night.
Explain: I rule, as in ruler. I remain conscious while others slumber. I am there to witness the full measure of darkness.
Position Sought: fallen woman

government holiday

why as the days shorten
they are such an effort
to get to the end of

i, an individule
have many jobs to do
clean planet save wal street

stop warming save petrol
spare others around me
from those who'r not so cool...

Mikes's Swimming Blog, Day 90-bouts

Tonight I only waded. I could be a tranny, depending on your definition.

Dog Makes a Connection

Dog makes a connection with master, master favors dog, dog understands to fight off all others. This is a fascinating and suckling thing for an animal. It is a game and life at once in a grub bowl.
For the master, he sees the specialness of the animal: her tits. She must be suckling so she hong-
ri enough to do anything and guard the dam house. If she doesn't eat the ganado, she is top bitch.

"Ingesting Resources and Giving Back on the Community"

Sylvia comes home puts on some spooky music and stares into a candle.
This is the me that i am; ingest me Mthyuh so that no more may suffer.
Yalalahalala. Ya [etc.]
Have we not fed you our poor our most outspoken. Yahalalalahalala. [etc.]
They who want to live no more, we let you have them Muhalalalahuthyuh. [etc]
[etc.] Then you spit them back up on our Welcome stone: nuf of the Othyuh, Muthyuh.

Nothing can Fill my Hole

I come home to my fabulous faux-renaissance palace and hover over my persian carpets in the opium den listening to my favorite ragas. My four fabulous akitausies file in, strutting their glammy beauty and leaving a genuine fur-rug trail behind wherever they step, smiling their adoration. I glide out to my multi-tiered pool with fountains, really more like a water park. Here I bob as a rubber duckling in the falls and whirls. Later, for dinner: all the delicacies that the local ShivMart can provide. My mother? Although living here on plant and does cramp my style, adoring and willing to commit crimes to retain my favor. Then why... why the hole? It's a hole and it's the size o' Texas, right here... [Chamatilly indicated a large oval area between her groin and sternum by drawing an invisible egg shape with the tip of her finger. The hole came all the way up under her breasts]. It seems that nothing, nothing can fill my hole. This hole, priusnear the size o' Texas, is all up inside of me.

Envy of Sociopathy

like a clothespin on yr nip,
fine remorse and guilt rip
all up on through to yr sp-
ine. when you kis me on d'
liups, we lookinat so mini
owrza feelingud witu chile

Look, Girls: Get it?

Look, girls: Get it?
Some will say that you are uninformed (they will freakishly pronounce it "on-informed").
Others will say that you are confused. HUH?!?
Still others cite mental illness.

Does a third of each make one in three? I don't think so, honey!

Stick to your "guns" babes! You so rock!

Hoist'em and keep breathing!

A stitch in time say sutured poison don't run!

Pegyuh is the whirl, chile!

Find Someone Who...

is a drama queen.
likes red punch for the lipstain effect.
exaggerates, and whose nipples are erect.
bugs their eyes at you obscenely.
rolls their eyes in digust while making a drink.
is every moment conscious of their hairs.
is always sniffing at the air like a sacked fish.
wears a ladies' perfume so sweet as to induce diarrheas.
is FABULOUS!

Drag Ball Announcement

"Remove body hair unless you're keeping it as part of your act."

"Tease back without being mean, come up with a smart response that is slightly catty but won't get you labeled as a "bitch"."

E-How

Bitchy Community

if you are wearing a wig that's totally straight
and natural baby so it won't melt in contact
with a square, just maybe fizzle, and you can
let it fly, "we don't have time to be in line. we
bitches. we need men now, we don't think any-
much else is funnie. we bitches cuz we've our
freedom and we prettie pissed aboudit," al-
ways standing in a slak circle smoking and
pointing rocked back on one long boot heel.
i am making a stand here near a gutter to say
look, it idn't right. and she's in there (pointing
out) and i'm out here (pointing down) after..."
whatever. then all the sudden they laughing,
they laughing, wild, start scratching each
other tops and poolin hair. they exhausted act-
ing animals that way, leanback on a public
bench giving each udda da dubba-berrl out
f'm undah dey skirts o' dresses. "u a slag."

There'll be no Ascending or De-Escalating

[advice to stripper continues during alcoholic blackout]

And hi, then ok, and you know today's my birthday. In-fak it's been my birthday all month. Yes I celebrate it more every day. I think I'm going for a record, yeah. And it'll be a different year every day, but there'l be no ascending or de-escalating. Same manic pace all the time man. You wanna piece? Of this party? [etc.]

Trannie Month, Day 3

"Tryna rince a ho-lotta swole-up kibble dow-ntha spose-all!"

Here I felt like a Georgie-girl in her new Bronx apartment. There is a scrappy rat terrier whose she feedin big pyreena chunks and each one is a biscuit t'him. She has a curly style could withstan several days partying if you keep it combed out n'spraid. So da curlz just be bob-een inna sank while she rince da dish. So, she keep it casual dat way an: reeyul.

On the mas-que lynne side, i cd be a peasant farmer and loaf of bread in dego-t swatting flies angerly at da rustic table, the one where he's really losing it. Good thang female side, from her tray-nang can do some clee-nup an doe-ne-vuh free-kout whan thangs start t'geuh-tang stee-yuf.

September: Month of Tranz Mission

Trannies and tran-sex is Tran-Zendnt.

"Sorry": Bitchiness is Part of My Culture

if you wunna take seven yeer yo
roll fo to figgr out: you ged-it, you
ennup evvy tam az da bee-yawtch.
I am tayking it all f'm u-soze I cn
keep it rill. min, I aina gennlmin.