Worms And Turtles On Earth OR Whatever I Think

 

Digging through the ground, as a child, I found that my saliva encouraged me to have movements more than have hunger.  And I am not talking about my bowel movements.  I am talking about my wormhole movements.  And “NO” the hole is not moving.  I am moving!   I am a worm and I live beneath the backyard of a couple who sit on their porch and look towards the sky.  The sky!  The sky!!! I would never like to  or even be able to look at the sky and the sun and all those blue blistering bunkuses.

Some people call it “a Close Call.”  It might make me do “a Closed Stall.”  I don’t have any “Clothes At All.”  So much do I see you “Clones Fall.”

You just got to realize that Worm Warm is Worn around.  It is a Warning.  And the leaves fall where I won’t leave except in the fall when I must go underground.  People use my relatives to fish.  I don’t want to be another one hooked.  Line and scale and water you do.  Your sinkers do stink, urgh.

Some of you mistake me for a Shamrock Snake.  Yesterday I did run across a Strawberry Snake.  Holey Moley, up front was a Carmal Snake!

This caused me to decide to eat a new tunnel towards the East side of the city.  This is life.  This is salvation.  This is Salvador.  Salvador Dahli I do adore.  This is where I am at. I eat through ground and the ground gets pushed through my skin forcedly into the ground all around me.  This makes my tunnels lasting chunnels.  On the occasion I sometimes enjoy what I am eating through because I occasionally am eating through something I like to eat through.  Instead of a throw up I occasionally eat through dog poop, lost chicken wings, and root root roots.

You sure think you are the Apple to my eye. Hey!   If I ever had an eye. And I don’t have an I. And!  Oh No!  Last week I had several eyes.  A dead skunk eye.  So many squirrel eyes.  A rabbit eye here.  A rabbit eye there.  Here a rabbit.  Hear a rabbit.  So, I must have ate some rabbit ears too.  And so much of what I eat is rabid. Don’t eat me, and please don’t heat me, in this race you want to beat me, your race always tries to mistreat me, beets in the ground are so delicious, feets on the ground are delicious too.

A mirror image imagined me as a mere ore.  Or was that Ogre?  Origami. Oregano. Oregon are sure gone.  And look.  There are Four turtles sunning themselves on the log.  Another one, in the grass, is going towards this tree stump.  She knows where she wants to go.  Nothing will stop her.

Just like when that group of ants joined me in my journey.  They shared some rice they pushed in the ground.  They let me know that they enjoyed the quick move they had available using one of my tunnels.   

I really wish you humans would understand that a worm in the hand is not worth two under the bush.  And definitely none on a fish hook.

Us Earthworms are Lumbricus terrestris.  Now who is Aerating Soil?

I sure do like fresh, moist soil.  Freshwater is great too, but I also enjoy the sea. You People don’t admit it out loud but I am really good for your grass yards.   And also, really good for those Gardens.  Gardenias.  I love to be in a Garden.  Why do you think I’m called a Nightcrawler?  I sleep during the day, I hate the sun, and I’m out at night.  Especially outside of my tunnels where I can look for that garbage you toss out and I eat them up so you can have a better garden.  You Garbage Can.  And you sure hate me in your swimming pool.

You just like to bunch me and my friends up, throw us up and then into your garbage, and then sell us as bait for freshwater fish.   All those trout, largemouth bass, and panfish just eat us up. 

I just love letting water and oxygen  penetrate this ground. And I really hate it when you pour salt on me.  That causes me to lose my body’s water.  Haven’t you ever heard of osmosis?  Quit dehydrating me!

I also hate getting stuck on your travel areas.   Your sidewalks.   Those paths.  The roads. Your stupid driveways. You keep getting me dehydrated!

Try to remember when Carl Linnaeus and Jean-Baptiste Lamarck played with me, introducing me to all lethal non-arthropod invertebrate animals.  Life sure seemed polyphyletic.  In 1758 Linnaeus forced me into his Systema Naturae.  Such a scheme!  I love Us animals in three kingdoms.  Divided.   Classed.  We Vermes!   Insecta. Pisces.  Amphibia Aves.   And then we have to put up with you Mammalia!

Just whatever happened to my friends, those crustaceans and arachnids?

Well, back in 1793 Lamarck started calling the Vermes ‘une espèce de chaos,’ a sort of chaos.  That caused us to  react by splitting our own phyla!  Us worms.  Our friends, the echinoderms.   And also, you stupid polyps! 

I want you to know that my aunt, Platyhelminthes, is just a common tapeworm. There is also my neighbor, Nematoda, who keeps telling everyone that  he’s a  ‘threatworm.’  I am so happy that my girlfriend, Annelida, is a bristle worm to me. I met her at some medical place.   She had a friend who is a  Parasitic Doctor.  She was the hospital’s specialist, Cestoda.  I’m glad I went because, "Helminthology" was a group of partying worms.  And you, you group of  Panarthropods.  Your names are,  Mr. Cambrian.   Miss Carboniferous.  Miss A lot.   I would rather be  called “animals."   I just want to get stubby lobopods.

I wish you could learn how to be really Worm charming.  Here and there we need a Worm Grunt and a Worm Fiddle.  Then everywhere you go you will attract us worms from the ground.  If only you would keep  vibrating the soil.  I want to keep feeling encouraged to the earth’s surface.

Instead, you are just a bunch of Grunts.  I call you Grunts  “Stobs."  That is because some boss of mine found a wooden stake driven into several grounds.  He just "Rooped iron."  And we began calling him “ The Stob.”  You sure are “A Stob” too!

I would like it if one commoner would keep doing the "seagull dance".  Wood turtles also find it very Worm charming.  They sure like to stamp their feet.  They do it to attract us  Worms. Those guys get smiles on their faces.  Yes,  those turtles sure prey on my friends.

Haven’t you ever heard of “The World Worm Charming Championship?”  It was started in 1980.  It is now an annual event.  It was organized by  the deputy headmaster, John Bailey.  He wrote the original rules for this competition.  A crowd of humans was to be charmed by 511 worms, all in half an hour.  Since 1984 this became an official Company called “A Real Ale Beer For All.”   The cost leads to only a single worm being charmed.  Since 2000 the winner was crushed by a ball and began groaning a "Worm Gruntin' King and Queen". On the Periodic Table the scientists placed a Worm’s Grunting by listing us as a  “Plod” element.

Now you got to remember ”A Worm in your Glands Hurts too much to Ambush.”

                                       I enjoyed writing this                                                                                                                                     I want you to enjoy reading this                                                                                                                     I also wish you would read some of THESE

 

 

  

Gastronomy, Gases Strung Out In Space

 

Honeymooners in Space

Universe 13, Planet 41

41st Chapter of the Stellar Bus

 

            While laughing at Ed Norton and coughing in his hand held microphone, Ralph forced a smile on his face while he mechanized his own clearing the irritants of  such mucus and colonial colon escapees so he can begin greeting and grating the berated present day paid accumulants who acted like they were boarding his radiation powered space bus.

            “Hello and Solar Sphere to all of you Ions with high-efficiency particulate air HEPA cosmicpolitians ,  I wish you were thinking you will be going from here to there.

            “I also would like to transport you from your low densities of matter in outer space up odor to  give you the means for some electromagnetically radiated personal travel  to your vacational metallic odder scents of arc welding fumes.

            “Arise and amass into our baryonic matter benches, seats, and sleepable rooms.  Here and there, the light and flight of dacryon might freight a transport for you across various millennial of time and distance.  

            “We can and calamity will force you into Electrospuratic Waves which we keep sparkinating a malignosphere in stagmights that you stink and think you are the kinks as I wink.

            “1180 ferromagnetism rocks and magnetars  around 20  times 10 to the 23^rd kilometers will be receiving you as quantum-relativistic cylinders thinner for your arrival.

            “I am a member of a group of Omnibus Diverter operators who enjoys working for the United Field Hyperbolics fleet of mass transportational devices.  You can call me, Ralph Kramden.  No ignorance is displayed by Edward Norton, our version of an engineer, or so he thinks, if you can call that thinking, he does.   Included in your meeting list  there is Ed’s wife, Trixie, and mine, Alice, I alike.

            “Welcome aboard.”  

            Ed then said to Ralph, “Maybe they should have a strip to the moon.  I keep thinking of tripping over the moon.”

            Riding up to their compartments along the bus’s long and winding road were several people who were Spacists, several  filled with very thin gas.  Primary Colonials composed of hydrogen and helium.  And occasional gaseous gals who like carbon, oxygen, and nitrogen.

            Trixie talked to a Nebulae, “I like your giant clouds, those gases and dusts.  I often want to hug your hydrogen and helium; they belong in nurseries for new stars.”

            She smiled and said, “Radio astronomers examined my dust clouds and  centered my own galaxy in order to fountain the evidence of the chemical ethyl formate.  Mine sure are  responsible for  flavoring raspberries in different celestial bows.”

            Ralph then whispered, “"She's right, Norton. She's right. There's nothing wrong with giants like Jupiter and Saturn.  Trixie and Alice have their own atmospheres composed of various gases, including hydrogen, helium…  Sometimes they just  want to stay neutron predominate. It's my fault."

            Ed then sang out loud, or is that a Sang Out Lout:

                                    Light Sabers

Life Savors

Life Sabers

Like Saving

Light Saviors

 

            This caused Trixie to ask, “Cannibal or cannon ball?  Is this your New World Order or did a Newt Twirled Occur?”

            There were massive clouds of alcohol, primarily methyl alcohol (methanol), walking up the spacecraft aisle, introducing themselves to  several well-known Sagittarius B2 clouds near the Space Bus’s center.

            A well-dressed Gas, called Intergalactic Medium, flitted between the Space Gals in the third row.  He told them “Methane Gases, such as me, are crucial for life as we know it.”   

            One Gal told another “Some Gas sure considers himself a biosignature.  In Outer Space, who needs Biology?”

            Then three lightest atoms in the periodic table claiming they are to be Accreted the beginning  orbiting disks of gas formed  the fusion with that passing by Meteoric Quinone who is very  conducive to the expert experimental family called Chemiosmotic Energy who like to carry crosses displaying lipid membranes. 

            Ralph pointed this out to Alice, who told him, “ Well, if I was asked to describe your geologic build, I'd say you have, uh, very well developed muscles, uh, a good bone structure, very good bone structure, fine frame... and the whole thing is covered with fat.”

            Ralph just growled, “Dimethyl sulfide on my planet is my life.”

            That was when Mr. Abiogenesis Natural proceeded by them with his own starlite arising from fellow non-celestial matter.  He bragged that his pal, Sagittarius B2, spans over 150 light-years and is estimated to contain enough alcohol to fill 400 trillion trillion pints of beer.

            Upon hearing that, Ed snickered, “"I'm gonna learn all the expressions, too, like ‘Mi-crobe-flee-odd-do’, ‘12 Victor Hess balloon experiments’, and ‘High Particle Radar, alligator, later as I'm eating a potato’, all that stuff, I'm gonna solar burn."

            And suddenly, the next group of passengers were called, ‘Somewhat Farts.’  The prism that displayed that said, “These people are radarley domed.”

Trixie replied, “That is radarley domed to you but it is smelly doomed to me.”

That parsec then said, “You may think we are smell doom, but you are odor drones.”

Trixie then said, “Oh, just muon out!”

He answered, “You are sure getting piony.”

Ed pointed out to Trixie, “You sure inflict on microelectronics  a long time.”

All of a sudden primordial soup, passing electrical sparks through a container of gases brought a large quantity of gas around with itself like an energy store, perhaps as a provision for a long trip between nebulas.  Organisms used gas vesicles to control buoyancy and position.  Others optimally photosynthesized themselves. 

That made Alice point out to Trixie, “When she says things about your old boyfriends and about their teraelectronvolts in the inactive galactic nuclei, I know that she doesn't mean to get you cosmic rays. She's just naturally antimatter, that's all."

Filling in the rows of seats those atmospheric entries of Micro-Meteorite, and Implosion of Bubble in C-Space and Optical Waves rustled and pinged.  Alfred Kreb started cycling  another electron transport chain. “Life on earth is not solid. Our cells are mostly made up of water and we have gases coursing through our blood springs, in our lungs etc.” 

            Which caused some shouting of:

                        “Hate Me!”

“Space Meat!”

“Cosmic Sheet!”

“My Flight is in Elevations!”

“It is filled with your Cathode Raynes!”

“I observed to call you my hiness!”

“In electromagnetic radiation I’ll Call You Hiss ness!”

            And Ralph just turned to Alice and said, “For that last space warp, Alice, I'm telling you, I'm going for the technique of self-recording electroscopes carried by balloons into the highest layers.”

Then Alice whispered, “ For the last time, Ralph, I'll be very happy with your aching experiments of Professor Regener.”

To which, Ralph shouted, “Is this the 1920s?  Am I the term cosmic ray!   Peanuts!  What am I gonna do with peanuts?”

Alice kissed him and said, “Solar Wind 'em, like any other elephant.”

                                                                                            

           

                                                                    I enjoyed writing this                                                                                                                                    I hope you enjoyed reading this                                                                                                                    I hope you read some of THESE

Dig Dog Do You Dodgers

 

            In one of the vibrations of the universe The Dog and The Photon’s verses were waverfied to The Dog studying the makeup of the ground up and the ground in college.  Grounds all around. 

            That meant The Dog had studied the gasses and guesses and guests in the various gusts of the Earth where he was spending timing in school.  The Dog spent his time, alright, and The Earth did not spend even a dime.  Nickle here, nickel there, nickels nick less everywhere.  The Dog studied and tried to remember how magma’s mama rises from the heated pressed center and combinations of hydroxidates and nitrites and various carboniferouses made, shaped, misshaped and transformed solidifying, cooling chemical substances which seep out regularly of the Earth’s sole.  Igneous, sedimentary, and coniferous slabs are said to make up where man, both kind and unkind, footed their world.  Upon graduating The Dog was informed that businesses did not want to hire any living things that understood the makeup of the world.  They wanted workers that would follow people in makeup, markup, and mass discontent, continent by continent, continually.  So, to encourage life, instead of outrage it, The Dog got a job to manage restaurants for a restaurant chain which had a racist name.  There sure was no resting in restaurants.  Although some people call them restrooms.  Since The Dog was educated, the restaurant chain’s owner did not want him exuding anything learned, so he earned the must to go from restaurant to restaurant after each few short weeks, since being short with the weak would not add to any thoughts the people that showed up at these places would gain.  Gain or Loss, that is how it is. 

            The Dog became a permanently hired restaurant manager who replaces sick managers at varieties and variations with no vacations in a variation of that very nation with all their notions of that brand’s restaurants across Indiana.

            The Photon, on the other hand and the other paw and with other pauses was profited and proffered profusely as a professor being possessed with a bunch of passes in the past from Wisconsin, and among those many other sins, who vacations in Indiana and hikes across the state.  The Photon diametrically lit up his students too much according (or is that accordioning) to his students parents.  Since those parents were the ones that paid for those students’ educations, then The Photon must listen to them.  They want their kids in darkness.  They are not Kidding.  That made The Photon to start up his personal, solo, lone walking trips through Indiana, in order to give his students, the isolations their parents felt and pelted, wealthed or not, and many nuts, in their own knots,  that those kids deserved.  They are being deserted and desserted.

            On the way down to an Indiana City which held a state prison, The Dog stopped at a state’s reserved forest preserve and walked himself along the river which held statues of what the inhabitants put up with during the last great Glacial Period.  While The Dog was there, on his way towards his first dinner management sickness shielding stop he stopped to start walking along official states’ paths.  The Photon bumped into him in a group and told them that the Wisconsin Glaciation retreated from Indiana 10,000 years ago so Indiana could not claim state representatives had heroically survived those ice sheets because Indiana was not an official state until December 11, 1816, which is not quite 10,000 years ago.

            The Dog went to Wet LaFayette.  He still hopes to be Laughed At Yet.  He did get laughed at when he burned arm on grill while he was actually cleaning it.  How can you call a facility owned grill clean when there are Dog arm carbonations, carbonatics, and other parts of the attacked attics in, on, and over, and I mean all over it.  The Dog was then Taken to the Hospital. And by  ‘Taken to the Hospital’  I mean the managers’ state wide supervisor told him to drive himself to the Hospital so the restaurant does not get into any legal trouble.  The Dog made it back to keep cooking and kooking.  The Photon beamed The Dog’s head and handled him like a puppet so the puppy could look like he is driving himself to the Intervention Care Unit, get covered with oil not from the stove, bandaged with band aides as a visual aide, wooden you not move it cast so his arm looked like it was being saved for a wonderful life, and then the hostile hospital peep holes smiled as it looked like The Dog walked back into his car and drove himself back to the restaurant from which he came.  The Photon also noted but did not stop the who spies workers from wilting The Dog’s wallet by letting money out so they could write up a deceitful receipt for half of the taken amount claiming they received for saving The Dog’s valuable life.

            As time started going on The Dog was next kept in a low priced local kennel while he worked as the Fort Wayne, Temple of Doom, or is that Tempting The Domed Restaurant as a  Manager to temporarily replace the one who had the microbes and would not be at this time allowed to run the restaurant in person, or in prison, and handle the cash register for his permanent customers consumers and costumers.  Speaking of Prisons, that local kennel was also holding a killing animal while the social and unlogical poor lice held it in a cage next to the cage The Dog was paying for.  The Photon lighted, high lighted, and delighted the village laundromat so The Dog could claim he is always clean and not just keen when he is Working as the Restaurant Manager when he is Working for that particular Restaurant Manager.

            In Terre Haute, not far from the Turkey Run State Park  the permanent manager, who was sleeping with his regular waitress while his irregular wife vacationed in a state other than Indiana, well that not at that time manager had recently hired someone whose wife steals displayed objects such as vases and shot glasses.  The Photon ribbed The Dog and told him that this was the date that the state inhibited inhabitants would honor a yearly religious date by letting people of that specifically  religion pay with prayers.  The Photon came in to light up The Dog’s life so he could work twenty four hours a day for three days straight and claim the coverage of the vases and shot glasses of the new employee’s wife who left and were never heard from again.

            Next The Dog wagged and waged his way and weight all the way towards Bloomingdale the place where you share your roomers and ask the girl next to you ‘Where are your Bloomers?’  The Dog was managing the cashless register while a new employee comes in for a used visual restaurant shirt.  The Dog took him into the non frigid food storage room in back where the cleaning supplies and shirts and ties were stored.  This New Employee was also a Nude Employee and was the Emploding of The Photon so The Dog covered him up with a reversable tie and a pleasant peasant pheasant shirt.  He now fit in with the wing ding feathers in the rest of that restaurant.

            Finally, The Dog managed to act like his was managing a restaurant in Indianapolis just in time for the 500 mile race, hoping and hopping for 500 smiles from racists. The Dog was frying some burgers on the grill and cooking three eggs in the microwave oven when a retired regular person came in for a cup of coffee.  He told The Dog that he would warn him if someone came in to talk The Dog’s employees into joining a union.  That coffee was lit up by The Photon who used that moment to make complete his Union with The Dog as they were again United and Untied and they went On and On and On across the cross of  their crass crashed Onion Field.  Who Do You See Fields?

            This unfit of unity united The Dog with the surreal world and he left artificially managing real and fake workers in restaurants.  Lefting them was right.

 

                                                               I hope you enjoyed reading this                                                                                                                     I hope you will enjoy reading some of THESE

           

Hand Helled Devices

 

               I felt my heart and I put a hand to my head.  There I was, pounding and warm and pouting and swarmed.   What was it?   What is it?  Faith or Fatality?  Are the Swine to run all night?  Do I need my Wine to run all day?  I left my buddies for a ring tailed pig.  Somebody yelled at my hay!  Are you Nose Fur Achu?  Cousin Tight.  You seem like you sure Draw Cula.  Will you get Franked and Stoned?  Where Golf?  Is there a Van Fire?  I hope that is Not King Kong.   Maybe it will be just Ping Pong.  Just?  And with no cheating shots?  Speaking of shots.  Electron Man.  Neutrino Man.  Light Bright whenever a Blight Man can.  Lava Man.  Proton Boys.  Pro Tun Lives just like toys. 

               You are Hair Man.  You call yourself Skin Man.  You are a Sin Man.  You get directed by the Snail Man.  Come on, Shoe Man.  You need to Show Man.  You are not even Sound Man.  You step on all our Souls Man.  You call yourself a Sweet Heart.  And you sure have your Sweat Arms.  I hope I get no Harms.  Whatever comes after the Water Man is in the Water Main.  You lost a lot when you were Suer Man.  They just called you the  Sewer Man.  I think I am Lazar Man or at least Lazy Man.  We are just a bunch of No Men who are called Nomads.  My neighbor said you were Home Man or maybe Human or was that Hue Man or Who Man.

Up in the sky there was the Ceilium Man vs Seldom Man.  That Man and Robust or Robot or Robin sure keeps Robbing US.  Stealing Steeling Squealing Switching Snitching Itching.  You and me are just a Caveman and a Brontosaurus.  To me you should be Slave Man.  Out across the water you are Sale Man.  And beached up you are Sand Man, you sun on a beach. 

Instead of greedy you are churning greeny, you Salad Man.  You claim that you mounted a lot of things, you Mount Tan Man.  Should I Agree to Argue?  Are You?  You are such a Fake Mustache which really is a Nose Fun Tattoo.  Oh! Oh! Oh!  You are Owe Man.  And that makes my  Omen Man.  I look out for Man Pants vs Pants Man.  I hunger for Food Man.  I must be a Fool Man.  Someone slammed my Foot Man.  Am I anyone you can Stand Man?  Stand? Slam?  Sand?  You must be Silt Man. If there is more than one of you, you would be split men, through your Slits, Men.  And if you are more than Won, I really have lost.  I wish I lost you.

Muddy Muddy Mud Man.  You are full of lies you Fossilized Man.  Look up to My hero, Rock Man.  Your say your life is musical, you Roll Man.  Over here, Oven there, you pop out Biscuit Man.  Bliss Quick.  Just Quit.  You burn me, you Barney, you are just Pebble Man.  And you claim you are People Man.  The truth is you are Peep Hole Man. 

We all need some harmony.  No guts.  No guitars.  No harmonica.  We are all Hair Man.  I am called Herman.  I wish I was Her Man.  When I try to talk to her, she can’t even Hear Man.  She looks like such a bunny.  She just keeps on hopping away.  She made me into a Hare Man.

What language am I speaking?  German?  I sure am full of Germs Man.  Oil and pokes.  Life is full of Gears Man.  And they keep coming Near Man. I am humilified.  I am all washed up.  You sure are a Humidifier.  I really am not a Human Definer.  We all think of you as a Humane Defier.  There you go, You, You, You Mandy Fire.

I keep thinking that my life is Missing Accomplished.  But is it really someone’s Mission Complexity?  Hey you!   Do you want a cease fire?  But all I heard was “No!  I want to keep you seeing me fire!  See Me Fire Until I hit you, or at least seer you.”  I need to just steer away from you, you  Bull Steer.

So, I just waved good bye. You waved Good Buy.  I wish there was a girl who, when she saw me, she would wave Good Boy.

               This is just a Crushing Assault, and it ain’t even done right.  Did you  mean a Cussac’s Law?  How about a cousin of some cussings?  And that brings such a sock to my mouth.  Sock Jaw.  Such Law. 

 

               Oh:  Brain, Brain, Go Away

                       There’s Putin’s Donald out to play

         Look for us the ghost to get slaid

         Of the one lost most today

 

Don’t blame about me, Melonie

You knew He was immoral

 

 

               Then I looked at the door and saw that I had to open it.  I opened it with a saw.  Was that what I was supposed to do?  Who supposes me, anyway?  Or at least imposes on me?  Any way at all.  And I do weigh a lot.   I’ll just get a shopping fart.  I’ll go with my Farter and Brother.   Brother he really is a Bother.  Just when  I was going to open a Fart Museum.  I had to go Farter than anyone.

               I only wanted to brag that it was Big Of Me, but everyone knew it was Bigamy.  I hope I do not get any Bigotry because people do not like it when other people are Biological.  They are just not Logical.  My life sure is a Big Old Tree.  Why do I need to keep up my Big Old Tries.  I am just hit with your Big Old Lies.  I am not living as a Bigamist.  Life is so fogged that I can’t see anyone in front of me.  Your claims of Biology are just a tube of Bologna.  Why should I try to branch out?  I really hate saying, Gee I’m A Tree.  I cannot see with Gee All That Mist.  You Mount All those Eruptions.  Well, lava to you.  Robbing me.  Taking my readings on your GeoMeter.  Gee You’re Not True.  Gee I’ve Not Trust.

                                                                I like writing                                                                                                                                                  I hope you like READING

Simpering Siblings

 

I was just sensing in the segmentations of silica subcultures.  I sat there with my engraved  random thoughts on these dolomitic stones.  Just sticking up along the walkway in my training area.  I hop.  I hope.  I skip.  I skype.  I jump.  I want to juniper berry, I mean bury, the world of condition that my contrition was in. 

I realized that our President is setting the Heat Wave.  A Catastrophic Heat Wave.  He sure is a Deep Veined Trombone, Sis.  But, Anna, your name spelled backwards is Anna.  And you just told me, Bob, my name spelled backwards is Bob.  But I am Robert.  And that spelled backwards is Trebor.  You keep calling me Dennis, which spelled backwards is Sinned.  I am not backward Sinned.

We keep arguing that verses agreeing verses makes me hungrying verses hollowing with my crying verses greedying which is definitely not a greeting.  Oh, you are Argue a Bull.  And that certainly is some Cow Plots.

I have to get across to you I have a nose problem.  I always thought you had all snorts of problems.  I know you think you are a  pro fem.  You just try to take my nose off, that’s my problem.  And your nose, like your life, sure blows.   That, sis, is your problem.  My nose keeps observing your problem, everywhere I turn.

And, another thing, I’m sure not as fat as I used to be.  You think you’re not Fat.   Art you?  You’re nuts.  You are fat.  You are tubby.

But then you tell me “You too!”

And was that really,  “YouTube?”

Think about it, I’m not as fat since I used two pies.

Oh, that last election.  Now there is No Taxation without MisInterpretation.  He just keeps telling all of us, and that is US, “Blood on Hue, Bludgeon Huge, I will build my Bulge on You.”  And I realize that he really thinks we all are saying, “Kill Me, Will You?”  And he feels that,  “It’s in our Will so he won’t get it until we get Killed.”

I just want to say to him, “Tell Me!  Tell Who?  Tell them your Hue. Not that You are Due.   Then, I will tell them I am very Huge.  In the past I would be called a Huguenot.  So, are you  French?”

And he will answer,  “ No, I am stale.”

I will respond, “Victor E Huge Or Not.  Pierre Allix, at Alencon and Latex.”

But getting back to you, sis, “The Handmaiden we Borrow.  Or did I mean ‘that we Burrow?’  Anyway, she sure looks like a Burro.”

And sis said back to me, “Don’t you know?  She was  initiated from the unknown, from the first lie.  Look at her burritos.  Those toes sure hoof me!”

Which caused me to react, “A poke on my toes sure makes me a lyre.  I lied  that I played all day.  Day Light, Day Bright, the first Clay you’ll seesaw tonight.”

She then just gave back, “You  look like  somebody put their stanch to your nose.  Well, that same somebody, you must have put your toes to their nose.”

I asked, “How did you nose that?”

She told me, “I was told that the nose can symbolize our sense of self wisdom.  But my scents definitely are not expensive.  There is no cents in that.”

I gave her my explanation, “One celestial nose had stared up at those snubs.  If only it were stars instead of stares, then at least he could take the stairs upward to the Aurora Borealis.”

That caused her to  poem to me:

 

“ Meteor flight, Meteor fight,

  The first war I die with fright;

  I miss my days, I fish at night,

  I hate the bliss you get from spite. “

 

               So, I said to her, “You think you are such a comet.  You think you just knocked three times on my space craft traveling towards celestial silicates.  You want that asteroids to just hit me twice and their remnants won’t glow.”

               Sis then replied, “With you it is always My Pronouns vs Your Anti-Nouns!  I just hope it is not something our Auntie Known.”

               I asked her, “Sis!  What do you think I am?”

               And she sung out:

 

                              “Garbage-Man, Garbage-Man

  You do whatever a Garbage Can

  You hold those bags, any size

  You think you catch bees, but they are just flies

 

  Stink out

  Here comes the Garbage Truck

  Is your smell that strong?

  Glistening me out of luck

  Your snot is a rapid detracting hood

  Can be sting from your head?

   Looks like a snook, oh such lead

 

   Beware

   where goes you, Garbage Man

   In the smell of your flight

   You’re what seems just like slime

    Like a freak with a blight

    You’re worth less than a dime

 

    Garbage Man

    Garbage Man

    We know you are here when we hear your Can Slam

    You’re full of such brags

    And speak such lies

    You think you have friends

    But they all are just flies

    Poop out

    There throws your Garbage Scams

    You’re just a Garbage Man.”

 

                                                            I hope you had some fun reading this                                                                                                            I hope I have some fun with you reading THESE

 

Going To The Space Where I Learn. Are You In?

 

Should  I be studying Astro-Physics or another Astrology Lie?  Is that teacher a Super Star or just a regular in this  Suburban Bar?  Can we get taught, not taunted or at least bought at this Bar?  If I was brought to this Bar. I could not drive home.  Speaking of Bars,  was she a Bare Nun?

That was when the bartender told me to keep it a secret.  Or did he say I should not secrete it?  He sure wants me to have a success, or was that just another suggestion for my secretions.  He said that it was my secret to run.  Or did he say that they all know I got the runs?

One time he told me that I am Charles.  Or was it that for me he could not Charge Less?  Maybe he told me I was Chair Less?  Or just that I am always Care Less?  Everyone else keeps telling me that I am a head of us.  I did not know that I really am  Hairless.  And not Harmless.  I sure can’t think less.  He said “You can’t stink less!”

All along the time, me and my buddies are shaking hands while the bartender is shaking drinks and the girls that walk by are shaking their heads.  I kept looking at what else they were shaking. 

Fred then asked me, “Did I just miss the last call?”

And I looked at the phone and asked Ed, “Was that a missed call?”

Ed looked at me and told me, “No!  What you heard was a fog horn!”

Then Fred asked, “So, Ed, how much did that frog earn?”

I said, “He really acts earnest.”

Ed then said, “At my job, it is like I must constantly Earn A Nation.”

I told Ed, “My Actions Speak Louder Than Your Words.”

And Ed replied, “You Adding Factions Freaks You Out with these Weirds.”

I then turned on my stool and told Frank, “All I want to learn about is The Solar System, The Moon, The Stars, The Planets.”

Frank said, “You don’t need to be Spaced Out anymore.”

Ed said, “He can’t be Spaced Out any less.”

I said, “How can I learn how to get to Pluto?  I need to think more than about Biology.  I need Chemistry.  I don’t want Geology. But I do want Geometry!  I want to be able to count!!  I want to be counted on!  I am the Count of Coma Sutra.  I want to learn Numerology!  Or do I need to be Numbing More Of Me?”

Frank asked, “Are you really wanting Mathematics or did you just say ‘Ma, Them Antics’?”

Ed answered, “He sure is Mad as a Hatter but I’m just Glad I’m a Hater.”

I commented, “You’re a Hater.  There’s a Hater.  All over there are Haters, Haters, Haters.  Man, this Home really wasn’t built in a day but we just roam around a bunch of silt in clay.”

Frank then said to Ed, “Are you going to Bury the Hatchet in my Neck?”

Ed replied, “It ain't over 'till it's over.”

Frank reacted, “I ain’t Orvile!  Spill it over.“

Ed, “Practice makes perfect.”

Frank, “Artifacts mase prefect.”

Ed, “All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.”

Frank, “You jerks and all you say makes my Life without Joy.”

Ed, “Silence is golden.”

Frank, “Violence is Olden.”

Ed, “The squeaky wheel gets the grease.”

Frank, “You sneaky weasels cut the cheese.”

Ed, “You're never too old to learn.”

Frank, “You are never too smart to not burn.”

Ed, “What's good for the goose is good for the gander.”

Frank, “What you say is gross and you go on forever.”

Ed, “ One man's meat is another man's poison.”

Frank, “One man’s mate is another man’s prison.”

Ed, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

Frank, “Air scents make your farts go around more.”

I then said, ”Hey guys!  Calm yourselves Down!  I think you need Calmer Suture!

It’s always Gas Light, Gas Fight, yous are The First Gases I Smelt Tonight.  I wish I could have missed this Day.  I wish I missed your Fight.  You moan and hiss, I miss delight.”

               Ed then said, “Are you saying we Messed up soap pains in your gaul?”

               Frank agreed, “Gaulumetric or a galuga or even a beluga, you add up to the one we met during a trick.”

               The bartender then brought us a round and stated, “Tether around, boys.  Are those your Dentist’s shoes?”

               Ed answered, “ No, I thought they were your Tennis shoes.”

               I let them know, “No way!  Those are some Dennis’s shoes! “

               And then, all of the sudden Colonel Hoggin DeSpotlit told us, "We're lost, but were making good time."

And that caused a reaction by Kirkjadant Stink, "I know none of you were expecting this. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to ask you to throw up a little sooner. Warp 5, Hoggin."

Colonel Hoggin DeSpotlit stated, "So much for the cute little girl there."

Colonel Hoggin DeSpotlit then said, "May I remind the captain that if a good looking woman enters this zone..."

Sergeant Had Schlitz interrupted, "I'm aware of my responsibilities, Mister."

The Demander then said, “This is Kirkadant Stink.  I am the one causing damage of the Star Stallage Thirteen.  Soused, I finally got here.  These are the rumpuses that are on the rise.  My five beer mission was to gulp strange new drinks.  To see life only as blurs.  To seek out free shots in weird situations.  To stumblingly go where no sober man had gone before.”

I then opened my eyes because I thought I heard a Barroom.  But it was just the Bar Broom.  I’m not even in the Barber Room.  Onto my head there keeps going, “Ba Boom!  Ba Boom!  Ba Boom!”  And I’m flying in the sky like a balloon.  Or am I frying as I die in this saloon?

 

                                                       I hope you had some fun with this                                                                                                                 I also hope you have some fun with THESE