Look, Covered With Flies! It's A Weird! It's Pretty Lame! It's Flooper Men!

 

               I was walking home from work when, all of the sudden their burst upon the sidewalk in front of me a giant five point star that looked like cement but it gleamed.  Most days, and most hours of most days, I am cleaning tables of poorly eaten food, gathering slimed dishes, and scrubbing down knives and forks in the back room where people cannot see and think there is a dish washing machine.  I put soap on my daily circumference when I cannot get the dirt and saliva off with the buckets of reused water and annoying hand again hand again towels.  I can’t refuse if it is refused water.

               As if it wasn’t enough for me, today, cleaning all that dog food and rat trap lures from those people that ate at the restaurant that hates dishware, and now I have an outdoor attack which means I have to act like I am saving other people, which is the opposite of what my workplace owner wants us to do over eight hours each day that we get paid our minimum wages for.

               Once again, and I sure am sick of it, I need to tell myself that since I have super powers, I have super responsibilities.  I go right ahead and toss a bunch of kids off the sidewalk in front of me.  Then I look around and push over some cars streaming down the roadway to my side.  A house here and a house there I push until they crumble so that intruding Celestial Copy Cat doesn’t accomplish what it wants to do.

               I started singing to myself:

                                             Nothing Man

                                             Nothing Man

                                             Does Whatever Those No Thinks Can

              

               And then a group going homers came up to me and thanked me for acting like I saved their lives.  I heard them shout: “He is our Local Hero!”  “Local?  Local!  Locust!  He is an All Over National Hero!”  “Look at him!   He is our World Wide Hero!”  “A Weird Wide Hero?”   “He sure does look Wide from eating all those Hero Sandwiches!”

               And talk about my super responsibilities.  And I don’t know how this is even possible considering where I was just working at and what I was doing right before I put my super human’s costume on and acted like I was saving everyone. What they said sure made me hungry.  This became my supper responsibility.  I had to open my mouth.  I yelled at them: “Remember, if you have Spider powers you have Spider Responsibilities.  I am responsible to put flies on your webs and make certain you don’t sweep those webs away!”

               And all of the sudden, I got helped.  Standing as big and bloated as I am, there was this other guy, staring into my face and trying to look like he did something. He told me: “All these peoples’  lives sure seem Basic.  Is your life Basic?  Does that mean you am Anti Acid?  You should know. You act like you have a Phd.  My PH must be a lot lower than yours.  And since I’m a guy,  I can’t be your Aunty Acid.  Call me Alki Lime.  Boy, you sure bug people!  So maybe You should be called Ant Acid.  Coal me what I am, I am an Anthracite.  This sure is becoming Anthropomorphic of me.”

               And that caused me to tell him:  “Hey, remember when you told me you were the Flash.  I could tell you had a small Flash of responsibilities.  You being responsible Flashed Away right away.  You are always so used to being Flushing.  You want us all  to get flushed away.”

               That is when the Bloat Man said, “You are only telling me this because I was Red and you are so new at this that you sure feel Green.  Those actions are part of your opposite to me Green responsibilities.”

               I yelled back, “You seem so new at this that you are the one that is Green!  But you also have all these Greed responsibilities. You are Mean Greed, you are not a Greek you Freak.”

               He then said, “I am not the Bloated Man.  I’m more like the Batman.  Or, at least, the Bath Math!  Add It Up!  You keep on relying on me to protect you from Robbers.  You seem really like the Fat Man who eats away at all of us.  Whether we are good or bad.  We must taste good to you!”

               I replied, “I want people to think I am protecting them.  I’m protecting them from you!  They think you are the one who wants to kill them.  The one who kills them with his kith and kin.  You tried to make your knife go right through my kilt and skin.  Whatever happened, I now say that I am K.  Does that mean to me that you are OK?  Oh!  No Way!”

               Bloat Man then warned me, “I did not come here to fight you.  It was that thing that broke up out of the ground.  It scared all of us when it tried to scar all of us.  And those scars are sure not cigars!”

               I agreed, “You’re right

We’re off to flee that Mummy

That Horrible Mummy in Gauze

He’s a weirdo, he is, he is

He wants to strangle us with his claws.”

 

Bloat then said, “He sure is a rock.  And I don’t like this Rock that Roles.”

               I yelled, “Rock!  That is Geological or Gee!  To me this stuff is Ill Logical!

Bloat responded, “He sure ain’t Neurologic.  I think he has some New Lodge Ick!”

I then warned Bloat, “Be careful, so your heart don’t clog.  He’ll just eat you like a lizard.  You’ll be in a stomach full lizard and think you’re on a log.  And that log barks at you like a dog.  Your brain is in a fog.  Mine is in a frog.”

               Bloat Man then asked, “Do you think you are being Effervescent, cause you sure cause me to ask ‘What’s My Pet’s Scent or What My Vet Sent or What Made My Vest Dent?’”

               I got disgusted and yelled, “Can’t you hear me?  How is your acoustics?  Put down that Cue Stick!  Are you sick? And you just accuse me!”

               Well, people, a hero is what a hero does.  And their ain’t no heroes if there is nobody for them to be heroes around, so just sing to yourselves, this song, inspired by ‘Seltzer Boy’ by Allan Sherman back in 1962:

 

                              Altar Boy, give me some alters

If you don’t totally falter

You’ll be up on Gibraltar

And You’ll Sure Be A Gnu

                                 I enjoyed writing THIS                                                                                                                     I hope you enjoy reading THIS                                                                                                         You might like to read some of THESE

Bright and Bark for another Year

 

And there was The Dog, digging up a buried battery in the King’s back yard.  He  bit into the plastic cardboard backing that held the vinegarized  quartz sand surrounder of that inner leaf burnt and crushed hard inner standing rod which had topped with one copper heading witch could temporarily connect to the wire intrusing into those surrendered acidic sands in order to attempt to pass enjailed electrons from that battery  to any kid’s toys.  The electrons that swum in the Ph’d engulfed quartzite chips included a related photon.  And that photon was The Photon.  The Dog was happy about that.  He was EnLightened.

The Photon, happily, said, “Earth is Earth and Dirt is Dirt and under your feet you cannot tell the difference.  So, if we are on Mars or Proxima, or even a Goldilox Exoplanet, how can we care what the thing we think we are temporarily living on is called?  If you are living, you are living.  If you are not living, how can you care?  I don’t care and I don’t have the difference of living and not living.  You are here and you are there and never the sane shall think.”

And all of the sudden this other guy shoved hard and tried a lot to come up with his own dog breed.  His son thought he taught the dogs to speak.  It looked like the dogs followed orders.  The guy that bred the dogs was named Charles, Charles Chaplin.

The Photon began  looking for the children and since they don’t talk The Photon had to follow the sounds of silence.  The Dog then made some mistakes. At one point there were these filters and old stogies they had found. So, they must have been sniffing out some Butts.

The Photon shouted, “No!  Wait!  Was it that we were trying to Find the Children.  Maybe the word should have been ‘Fine.’”

The Dog barked, “Yeah.  ‘Larry Fine.’  That means I should use my ‘Lariat.’” 

The Photon went on, “Like with these new Stooges we had found. 

            Short and they sure bit around.”

               The Dog arg greed, “They have fleas like my fleas.”

               The Photon continued, “And they stunk up your nose.”  

The Dog then disagreed, “No!  No!  He’s a Curly Que Link.”           

And The Photon said, “So you are telling me He’s the bother of Moe.” 

That’s when The Dog realized, his full name was Jerome Lester Horwitz.  Lester.  Les.  Like The Dog said before, “There is Les Silence there.”

Then the both of them got kid napped by some guy no one listens to.  They don’t hear and they don’t speak.  It was a natural theft.

The Photon barked, “Dog Nab It!  Oh No!   We’ve been Dog Nabbed!”

The Dog replied, “Let’s not take that vow of silence.  We need a bow wow of silence.  That will get insidious.”

The Photon patted him and calmly stated, “Doggie dear, dogged Deer.  A Blind man’s bluff.  A Seeing Eye Dog.  They are the certain types and they cannot hear.  What was their reaction to the Dog Whistle.  They claim they are dogs but they were just acting.  They could not really hear it.  They saw that someone blew it.  And it ain’t just one person who has blown his life.

And they’ll howl if they thought that person was blowing a whistle that really made no sound but there were their dog howls and other dogs would hear their howls and join  in.”

Then Dog Growled and said, “Their responsibility to breath and exist opposes our recycling of atomic radiation that attracted all those sonar bursts.  That’s why their bosses told them that we do not know how to exhibit.  To get along.  And Photon, I silently agreed because it was against all of my beliefs.  I felt the need to work.  I feel that we all need to work.  So, let’s go along.

               “On our way, we’ll get on a space shuttle that had landed on a large meteor who was made up of  thorium, uranium, and potassium. That meteor’s inner circle is magmatic and the outer cycle has hardened and temperature cooled with attractive oxygens and nitrogens.

               “We can then start going where our comrades had not gone before.  I want to meet silicon men and electrical creatures who don’t, can’t, and won’t even define men and women  They do have about thirteen different types that can connect and unconnect and attract and repel. So, repulsion gathers new lives of their specific kind with their thirteen sexual identities including skin, no skin, gas, radiation and rock surfaces which, among other things, define their racism.  Their racists will invite us, first as a meal, then for a meal, then in their formula for intense of defense.  Photon, they’ll tell you,  ‘You’ll kill me. We’ll talk to you, that is if you are our lag log logged in your logical camp fire.  You airmost pest requiring a neighbor’s neolithic neurological metamorphism.  Never logical verses Neutral Logical defining while defying my deafening definition.’”

The Photon said, “Will this happen while I am at my computer executing RPGRPG.  Am I supposed to be playing as a Report Program Generator in a Role Playing Game?  Or should I be killing Role Playing Games running a Program that started out being used to Generate Reports?”

The Dog then asked, “Would  that have been a neighbor or was it someone’s  foot coming up to your stool?  You don’t know.  I don’t know.  But do we  have to open the door or clean that stool later?   How could I know?  How can you know?  We know nothing!”

That’s when the Nutracides and Cosmetic Industries were happy that their bioreactor increased metabolites.  Metabolite for me and scalability for you.  Your owner will say he wants to end the war!  Think about it!  How much money will he make if and when we do end it? 

These two are some deranged visitors from some under planned life who stay on earth with owers and disabilities far beyond those of moral men. Stooperman, who can charge the cost of mighty givers.  Offend people with their hair brains.

But they really need Anti Violence.  The saying really is “The hear of the dog that bit you.”

And they are in a group that does not like fish.  They can’t stand the smell and taste.  They were afraid that some Quack Doctor offered to take away those Dogs’ Herrings – he really offered to take away their hearing.

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