Clogged, Flogged, And The Dog's Artilleries

 

            This is The Photon And The Dog; they are temporarily calling themselves ‘The Motion And The Clog.’  This is temporarily because  their tempers are airily  causing their own temptations which each one otter owes each other, in reality they want to do a solo and instead what they are doing is so low.

            The Photon tells his partner, “You claim you are overcoming stupidness.   But you are overcome by stupidness!  Stupidity is the stew for you.  You make us all stoop into it every day.”

            To which The Dog responded with, “This moment of negatively, thanks to your charged subatomic particles, dictates us all the phenomena from atomic stability to some sort of electricity and a few different magnetisms.  You tuned your nucleus into electrons and your select bonds into protons so you can have your negativity charge at me, calling me  your inferior.  Boy, your negative charges sure identify you.”

            They just continued oscillating electric and magnetic fields while their traveling across earth felt like waves through space at the speed of light, c ≈ 3 × 10⁸ m/s.  They unknowingly do Ostentation things to elections which mystifies free loaders unravelling as woofs through their diner plates.

            The Photon then told The Dog, “Your continual attempts to do the movement of particles keeps dictating those states of matter, temperature, and chemical reactions. In solvents, atoms vibrate like forced lattices; your liquids seem to flow as we slide past each other.  I have to keep putting up with your gases, as you think you moved rapidly, cast iron pressure thinks like your collisions.  This fondu moments of your partial existence ingresses your mature temperaments with your cynical rejections in your various so lates and guesses that make you lose rapidly.”

            The Dog just snarled, “You keep on with your irritating  clogging, flaring plant boots, which you think are firm, but are only biofilm, as your ministerial buildup obstructs water lines and drainage.  Interior Flogging plants boots and miniature minds in our obstructed wasted lives. And there is no drainage in our brains ages.”

            That’s when surrounding radio frequencies  congested some jam things, so clear with wireless frequencies and subsequent overwhelmings by incompetent signals with their blocked side physical barriers.  Carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen are used by both of them frequently for congesting these jams as they think their  bodies begat and began from crated moss philosophy barriers, calling themselves fat by some people.

            The Photon shouted, “Slight glass is bubbling or completely, my fellow fright.  You do this till the system likes less mouse hair or has an internal smock age.  My sight is caused by my mind’s baubling as a weed stem and I think I am called Minister but I am really called missed it all.”

            This caused The Dog to whimper, “Fifty-two slates in this Onion.  How do you mole fools skate wearing this lotion, or do you just want to clog our reunion?  If so, my Iron will meet your frequency and, walla, the sight of this slight of us is in prison of that prism.  You claim your eye restated the smog in the sky but that ice where you skate still flies, or are those your flees that fly you full of lies?  And that certainly is ‘My Will.’”

            The Photon just snarled out loud, or out like a lout, “We’ve got to remember to Spy in our Eyes.   Or is that Ice?  Remember, We don’t want to be dyed but We also don’t want to be a board at all, no matter how tall, and no matter if we are matter or made of matter, or splatter or not.  You call me boring and you are just snoring and you are not just at all.”

            The Dog then said proudly to react to The Photon’s ‘Loudly’, “ Think about it, If you can think.  I also have water and oxygen and sea plants.  I have to keep making this floating water ponds on some sort of and some sore tough meteor.”

            The Photon answered, “So then, my air will keep in a  bubble around the meteor that grows under your control instead of me using my living space that I am working on your grows.”

            The Photon thinks he’s making, which to himself is ‘allowing’ the world and planets and people and oysters do the Motions of which they want.  He cannot see their emotions, and he thinks, ‘I’m Ocean’ in which everyone lives.  The Dog does his normal, non changing stuff, causing Clogs.  For him that is ‘Normal’ but no one who ever attempts or mistakes or by odd chance notices him, no one thinks him being ‘Normal’ for himself is ‘Not Normal’ for anyone or anything.  And they sure think he is a ‘Thing.’ And they wish they did not have to think about him.

            And life went on with Rigs to grow more Toes.   Including Pigs that will make more Poses.  They both are the ones they possess.  They both keep claiming to be a Pro,  and they sure are way less.

                                                              I liked writing this                                                                                                                                          I want you to like reading this                                                                                                                        I hope you like reading THESE

Electron Or Knot, Hue Are Entering Our Bus

Honeymooners in Space

Universe 14, Planet 51                             

51st Chapter of the Stellar Bus

 

 

               “You’re harsh radiation from Your Stars strips Electrons this way, that way, any way, I wish it were far faraway.  You are boarding on for a trip to  create an invisible, highly active sea of charged particles. 

            “We will be dropping you off at Hycean Planets whose deep nebula are joined with

Orion, that stellar nursery, where they work on photographysics with your churning, glowing nebulas of gases, various gases and then some.

            “Some of you call yourselves Super-Earth, but you have no continents caused by scientists who went to Mass with their made up  early thirty percent purchased water.

               “I am Ralph Kramden, the Diverse Driver of this Space Star Bus.  I am a caring driver.  I drive from moon to moon and no body cares but me.  But you have to remember that , ‘This is  a Universe.’ I don’t want you uncomfortable with each other, and definitely don’t feel adverse about me.  You verse here, I am not fierce there, I’m a force, my friend and working partner, Ed, is a force, and we are forced by our wives, Alice and Trixie, who follow us, physically and physicsly but not necessarily emotionally, here and there, so hear me all and don’t act beware.

               “Come up the stairs or  ride the escalator, I hope you can continue in our dimension with me and dim big Ed, which is not a demon detonation, but dimes are okay, Welcome Aboard.”

               Ed Norton then said to Ralph, "Me and my silly pride. I promise you this, with all these Northern Stars and Northern Lights, I'm gonna learn how to Solar an Array while you are in this Solar System."

            Ralph replied, "Well, that Soyuz ought not to be too hard. Ed, you've learned how to spacewalk everywhere else."

               Which caused Ed to complain,” Ralph, I have, I have —I've got an explanation. A perfect one. I've got a Dwarf. Not a run-of-the-mill Dwarf, not the world's Dwarf.  Not even the Universe’s Dwarf.  In another verse.  I’ve got a Dwarf Planet."

            Ralph then growled, “Ed.  Don’t expect me to believe you.  You don’t have Dwarf Plans.  You cannot Plan Yet Anything!”

            High-energy particles who called themselves ‘Cosmic Rays’ but Alice called them ‘Comic Rats’ boarded and sat themselves. Trixie said that they think they are mostly fast-moving protons (a type of ion) and heavy atomic nuclei.

            Ralph told Ed, "You have to make certain that their lead exhausted nowhere in this Universe of  Snakes, and you know what they're gonna find when they are locked in here? Payments!  Payments!"

            Mr. Gravity said to Ralph, "Look, why don't you shoot us up into there? You space flying every comet crazy."

            Ralph replied "I'm not driving any space chunk into radiation. You're just jealous... Because you know that at this time tomorrow night, my asteroid will be on the front night sky of every new orbital in the collapsable Saturn Rings."

            Gravity pulled on him with "Well, so will meteorites! Force chillin' you!"

            Ralph reacted with, “Zero Anticipation Interesting.  Zero Intelligence of any Kin!  And your Kin are not Kind!   And I see, sea, and sneeze that you, you more than sometime, have no mind.  See Hell or Space Sea Guts All!”

            Ed then tapped Ralph’s shoulder and said, “In these  Matters between universes, in their own weirds, they are such immoral bards. Solar Booms!  There claim they are three times in a Melipal's life when he wants to be absolute: one, when he's communing with his Taurus; two, when he's being tender with William Gilbert; and three, when he's in the isolation Botein on The $64,000 Space Ride."

            From Alice, after she watches Ralph talking to Gravity, “YOU...ARE A BLUESHIFT!!!!!! A BLAAAAAAZAAAAR!!!!!!! YOU!!! BIIIIIG BAAAANG!!!!!”

            Which caused Ralph to react, “One of these dark nebulas... One of these dopplers... they keep shuttling this Fizeau up.   PATERA! Right in the Kelvin!  Himalia-himalia-himalia-himalia.”

            And Trixie smirkingly added, “A Telesto house?  A Callipus house?  A Black Hole Whole House! How’s that  hole going to a dimension? “

            They were told lies by  a white dwarf star about his earthlike planet with oceans whose clouds are seen in space.

            The bus had been Orbiting another star for their passengers to vacation life.

Entering from Lagoon Nebula came young, massive stars with teachers illuminating the gas and dust surrounding them. These younglings blast last.  Blast best.  Or blast their vest.

            Alice then said to Ralph, “I don't wanna look at that Io Taurus, that Saros, that Scalar, and definitely not these four Wolff Rayets. I wanna look at Lidar!  That gives all of us, even then, information on atmospheric winds on Earth!  Our Earth!”

            Ed then butted in, “Hey, Ralphie boy!  In The Globule, it is teaching us how to play Galaxy.   First, you scintillate up and address the barometer. To the galaxy barometer, “Hello, Belinda!  Like we say in the seawinds: ‘Tectonic and twinkling wait for no Magnetar.’"

            While the bus was traveling, Erythrulose, a four-carbon sugar, was found in a galactic molecular cloud, marking the first confirmed detection of a sugar in interstellar space.

It appears at least eight times more abundant than smaller three-carbon sugars, defying prevailing theories of stepwise carbon addition in space chemistry.  Trixie then told Ed to say, “

Ed Norton said we will transport 50 million tons  so they could have arrived on early Earth, offering a plausible extraterrestrial source for prebiotic chemistry.”

            This caused Ralph to say good bye to his leaving customers, so he could go onto another universe, “Blasts of hot stream of ions and electrons into space some people call the solar wind.

Ions are the builders of the universe. In cold, dark gas clouds, radiation from distant stars knocks electrons off neutral molecules to form positively charged ions. These ions react easily with other particles. Think of them like magnets that quickly snap together to form complex molecules like water and sugars.”

            Ed then said, “Hurry up.  We want to be on our way, not in your way!”

 

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

Life Is Lighted With A Superlative Surrounding

 

                        You’re a hot Monkey

                        You always think you’re right

                        It doesn’t matter

                        Who you kill or fright

                        Just cheat it

                        Just cheat it

                        Everyone knows you’re a freak it

 

 

                        Just keep on drinking

                        Your life’s full of booze

                        You think that your famous

                        What all you do is snooze

                        Delete it

                        Delete it

                        You live just like a Cheap Chimpanzee Kit

 

            I wanted to know, “Do you know somebody?”

            And you just yelled at me, “No! I always ‘NO!’ anybody.”

            And, as usual, I realized that you’re all washed up, just like any sunken boaty.  Come on and realize, “Boat of you are way under!”  And I know, “Well, Wet do you want me to do?”  As usual, you just go like any GOATY!  You sure are all Wet, but you are also in a Well, grabbing wishing coins, and it is not any Well, you’re in the Sewer.  Sewer this and Sewer that.  That’s your whole life! As you keep making holes in my life!

            Didn’t you see that Mike Johnson said Congress must address birthright citizenship after another SCOTUS loss?  Boy, Politics sure are storming around the World Cup.  And that’s causing seven continents to start drifting toward each other – I wish the scientists would warn us that it’s accelerating!

            Again, you are burying me.  And how could   you start to bury me when you keep telling yourself that I was never alive.  You buried me here.  You buried me there.  All around me is no casket but a bunch of rocks.  And I see what those rocks that you love and use are made of.  You love using Gunpowder.  You surround to greet me with Potassium Nitrate, which is also called saltpeter or saltpetre.  You get this for seventy five percent of our communication  from the crust of limestone caves.  You love giving me bat poo poo.  You also use it now  for your food preservation in your cured meats.  Spice shops sell it.  And you’re the one that needs the cure.  If you cared about life, you definitely would not add in that fifteen percent Charcoal.  And what you do always smells and though you use on me ten percent sulfur, you smell even more than what you use to kill me.

            You are not the only one alive on this Earth.  For millions of years, Earth's continents have been slowly drifting across the planet,  And thanks to people live you, your beliefs are heading us toward another massive collision.  And that is not just the U.S. but it is all of us.

You are on your altar thinking you are marrying climate, but you keep using your triggers with hope, words, and deeds to environmental rages on a global scale.

            If you super fools stay so  corrupt, wasn’t that one of the  practices we constantly see causing all sorts of damnifications on Earth, such as a much larger inner sore than we had before.  All forced ever the failure of Earth which is magnified in your field. Because those things haven’t happened, sentiment believes the core originally killed at no more than about two hundred and fifty percent bellowing our melting point, as opposed to rapidly super hating at more than eight thousand percent when your finger points.

            By redestructing the movement which Earth’s made over the last 70 million people, researchers have discovered that our grave holes are deepened significantly just as your Antarctic Soul was freezing over — a confidence that suggests the churning deep Earth may have been the invisible hand that encouraged the death of the planet’s living, caring beings.

            Where our lives got most of  our waste is by not allowing debate of anything we disagree about, but a new study suggests that the lamest largest reservoir of heck on earth is not the notion, but in store for us. In any store.  In all stores.   Using a demonic anvil cell, scientists subjected a sample of iron enslaved in a hydrogen-infused silicate blast to kill our temperatures and preserve us to feel like we are in Earth’s core.  That’s your score.  And I am sore.  As over you soar.  You sure are sour.  We were  founded by hate and gin.  You are constantly bonded to poison sum ached with exploding oxygen, making our hydrogen like makeup everyone wears from heaven to hell dents in  the  falseness of your so-called mass.

            You bring on the Coppers as you slice with your urine as you rant with uranium.  You are a  largely liar with your 260-million-year-old broken pie plates within the Redwall Limestone

extruding that igneous rock like that ribosore dinosaur which gave you Grand Fannie a Yellowstone Lark with its bright colors.   Obesity is what you call me with your  shiny volcanic lungs and welded tuffs foaming from ancient superb-eruptions.

            I have to live with a crust, crust here, and a primary  silicate there,  like pyroxene and olivine, alongside plagioclase feldspar. You and all your friends think your lives will be billions of years of water-based weathering.   Wait.  Wait!  You Glutamate.  You are the most common excitatory neurotransmitter, vital for incognition, leaping, and memory loss with your Gamma-Aminobutyric Acid.  You are our The primary school inhibiting neurotransmitting so that perverts over-excitabate.  We need help to control your anxiousness and morbid activity. Drop your mind so life can control forward, reverse and demotivation, and complex snotty bowel movements full of Serotonin with your regular moods. You keep patterns of anxiety in your appetite for our lives.

            Are  You Patriotic or A Pet Riot Tick?   Tick.  Tick.  Tick.  That’s knot a trick.  Freaking Genius or Free King Genocide?  Put your Geology aside.  Is my Vote Vetoed or has my Boat been Towed?  Your Goat’s Bean Toed!  You caused me to go  through all this and then I ate a rosette stone. And, you know what?  My mind told me that I gained gunshot protection around my stomach.  I am so proud that I am a super stomach ache to you.  Ever where, there are two of you and no one of me.  I keep getting told that I’ve been sold, but life has flowed and nothing’s glowed.  Gold is just a rock in the earth and my life is just there and there is no justice.

                                                                  I liked writing this                                                                                                                                          I hope you like reading this                                                                                                                            I would like it if you liked reading some of THESE

Life On Earth or Lies In The Dirt

 

            When I read your mind, love, I am afraid of how my thoughts would spin.  I am a neutral human and you are naturally inhumane.  You bit my arm and your jaws won.  My paws made you pause.  I didn’t want to wonder about that.  I just want to wander some place.  In molecules or space.  I want to be a space cadet but I am still being erased by you yet.  I need to be in a still.  I am only in a stall.  And I will be away and that is all.

            Then some guy from the village hall told us, “Either of Youse guise sure knows a lot or  Youse sure Nose Up Snot!  You keep telling everyone ‘No!’ You constantly make this  such a plot.  Everyone all around should keep trying to put you in your own plot.  To Me You Are Like Ether, Eager Resilience, resilience, rescience, or resident.  What did you now just vent?  Not, what did you dent?!  That’s knot what I meant!  That’s only what you all have spent.  I have suspenders. You are suspecters.  No, you are suspected!”

            That made you look mad and yell at me, “Cubadors, Cue Your bores, Commodores, Commanders, or Calm You Dorks, you’re just a bunch of Pork, and no, you, oh you sure ain’t ‘Just.’  There is no Justice, you always make my life, Just Ice, and you are a Juice Vice.”

            I responded with, “Guillotine, your machine, when ever you see my neck, I just get chop chop chopped.  My head’s always your new mop.  Boy, thanks to you, my life sure goes flop.  I not even allowed to sing, ‘Doo Dop, Doo Dop, Doo Dop.’ And you keep enjoying your crop as I sure go plop.”

            So, you reacted to me with, “You’re the one who causes life to be Ice and dose cream on my existence when you constantly cram my mouth.  ‘Outh!  Outh!  Outh of There!’  If you cared that’d be rare.”

            A neighbor then pointed out, “Both of you keep Blundering folks with slight binges.  Like a couple of burry hairy fight things.  One of you goes, ‘Call Me Leo, Mop Up My Steep Hole!’  while your girlfriend says, ‘ Altitude Moe.  Just let me go!’” 

            And the village person told us all, “You keep Gunning up to goon me.  Like all others, you keep running up to ruin me.  It’s like when my brother punched me up to buffoon me.  But I’m still alive so you have to moon me!”

            We all reacted to the village with:

                        “Body Warmth,

                          Body Warmth,

                          Body Warmth,

                          Body Warmth.

                          You won’t ever have to Cremate USA, or is that us because

                          You Burn Up Ourselves.”

            My girlfriend then smilingly said, “I know what I produce is garbage but I enjoy doing it and you enjoy hating me.  I hear you say you worked your whole life and you call my life a hole and even though I pay for your living and enjoyments in your life you claim that I never worked.”

            That caused me to ask her, “Are you a comet medium or a constellational medium?  Do you shine in the sky or scintillate over the sea moon?  My arms are your Abell Cluster.  Can’t we just walk with each other instead of calling the police because one of us does not like what we think the other one thinks!”

            Life with her then went on without the combination of how radioactive Moon Rocks were and how little anyone really chewed them. "First of all, how wells were full of them," the space ghost in my mind said of those we keep poking at for about thirty-seven times. "Nobody had a bad art to build clay around Arial Electrons. And it was always the same thing: how much of a space guy they were, how production fell apart, yet at the prism of different times, how they really never felt they flew over earth very well, because that was a very private prison."

            It grew into my mind that now, the stalactites are the tights on my thighs.  “Thy yes and lie no!”  Take the humanity and move to the side!  I can’t take that but don’t show me that you are alive.

            And the village commandant said, “ That slider from Jupiter had jumped now from Saturn and sat down on his own Moon.  Boy, do you hear him Mooning all over the place!  Or is that all  over the Space?”

            To which my girlfriend said, “Punch, Punch here.  That Punch is not Rare.  Hear a Punch? There’s a bunch.  Ever swear I am a punch skunk. Proof Puke here.  On the roof there.  He’s a Dare.  Every stare.  Gotta be a glared blare.  You claim to be Iconic but you are sure Ironic.”

            Our village commander replied with, “If you are putting up with your selves  own feeling possessive then you’d better putt it away from your life’s sand trap.  Witch is not rare.  Is that your own hearts or your owed hearts?  How many times have you seconded away, theirs’d hour do you fluff flower?  Do you really realize that your life’s reel is full of lies?  And you are just some grizzly’s meal.  Look in his eyes.  Eye! Eye! Captain!”

            I just sighed with, “There's no getting around the fact that our ape-life is an ionic earth neighbor show. All those Arctic Meteorites  and Jeweled  Space Roasted vandals depict a stitched up venison of the Aurora Borealis life in Mars to Jupiter rings, pounding out your coast with Jackson Mississippi, Ecliptical  Moons, and Magnetic Spines.”

            My girlfriend then told me, “Sometimes you’re called ‘A Nut.’  Sometimes ‘A Goat.’  Everybody does Cuss.  That’s our Cemetery ground’s quote.  We should just be a Little Big Con, in the state forest.  Bear foot mountain that a way.  In our way.  Life is not ‘away.’”

            I agreed.  “Mule Sack, Mule Sack, on the floor.  Messed it up and skid some more.  So, we do it like a bore.  We hid some swears and messed with sores.  Our dramas will keep scolding us with that ‘Radium Duck!’”

                                                        I liked writing this                                                                                                                                          I want you to like reading this                                                                                                                        I hope you read some of THESE

Life Keeps Jumping Around

 

            There are Paragraphs and chariots.  Sea those Pairs of graphs and charcoal nets?  I jumped over a Pure Horse Shaft with his Sheared Nest.  I don’t know how I am going to get out of this shadow but his filter is not as good as my cyclone.  Circle here and side show there, hear a thigh bone, wear a spy phone, ever spare a slide home?  Are we being Polarized or, as usual, hearing Peculiar lies?

            My friend’s friends asked me “Are you in your Wonder Years?  Or is it Christmas in your One Deer Years?”  I said, “I would never wonder why You Sneer.  That is sure a One Near Speer.”  I am always Wasting in that Rocket’s Red Hair who makes Bums Worst with His Stare.  He went Poof through his blight while he lags still back there.

            My Last Master was in the List of Misters but he sure was a lot Less of a Minister doing all his Lumping Monitor with which made him a Loon Monster.  He always sold cures that Tingle Tangle Tongues as he Goes biting merrily at dogs.  He said, “Thanks to me, You may become a wolfman.  And That is why I’d never tell.”

            But I am not a wolfman.  I did not grow fur and I do not have sharpened teeth!  I am a Toad!  I started out being a Toadlet.  Following a heavy rain, I emerged.  And because of Me that was not an Emergency!

            Since I had sunk in the sink, I just sighted a spat where the Sphynx does stink.  Spink me?  Skink you!  We all belong in the Mafia Zoo.  Can I let us enter derangement with you?  You can toot too!

            If you wonder about brooks, you are one deer fool.  It’s like you wander about crooks. Boy, you sure are living in a Cell.  If your winter is a nook, you are slippery still.  If you drank what you shook your martini glass is no longer full.

            I guess I just have to envelope my developed letters once I A Bee See them.  Due You See them Two?

            I am a toad who had made friends with a frog.  Our toad’s usual work day is doing the digging  into the rocks in the earth to avail to our fellow toads rock crystals that contain minerals that are good and needed for all of us.  Every few days I take a break and I swim in this near stream to relax and clean up.  On my way to and from the moving water, I began constantly bumping into and passing by a frog whose own workday constants consisted of filling bags of cellular edibles that entered this stream from human sewage systems.  I sure  liked taking a break by climbing dry ant piles and crevassed land forms.  After three months of nicely not attacking each other, we oddly began sharing flies and worms and iron and manganese.

            He sure was one gelatinously frog with such thin skin that grows heavy with metals.  His family likes aluminum, lead, and zinc, which easily pass through their bodies. 

            Me, being a toad, enjoy a cocktail of chemicals from our skin and our parotoid glands.  My family sure like limestone, slate, and fieldstones, which retain cool moisture, provide secure crevices, and makes us easy to bump into.

            What we showed the world is that, Yes, frogs and toads can live together, but a lot of times they think each other are their pets. While other Frogs and Toads often share the same environments in the wild, we need to keep combining them in captivity in order to delete severe risks regarding disease, toxin exposure, and predation.

            More after more, spelling all these assemblages of our chromatic chromosomes is becoming more deflected by slight sight hearing earrings.  Look!   Look!  A big thing here and a King Kong there!  Hear that Bong that goes along from every elderly swing sling.  You’re on that sling and I got the shot and my Frog Friend gutted that kit along his heart’s slot.  Sleeping while creeping keeps making me weeping.  My weeping is your human, inhumane weaponing.  And you keep stepping on me  while I am walking me more into agony.  More, more, morn this morn.  Dring a plot as you get a shot with your bigot from that other lot.  That is an otter lot that is odder than a lot with their udder snots under all this rot.

            Think about it!  Frogs, on the other hand, use many varieties of rose quartz and amethyst to grow all of our homes in a stable, non-toxic addition tree.

            We constantly need a consistent water source that surpluses abundant food insects in order and odor and not otter which is odder to cool  them in a bunch of our shaded housing pots.  There are no laws of nature against litter if we are all surround themselves with leaves, twigs, and brush piles.  Neighbors encourage social gatherings with creative buffets of  crickets, roaches, and worms—that are gut-loaded.

            You’ve got to see that a Toad’s ally is not inconvenient.  It is not that that Frog gets me nuts.  I am a Toad and I Toad, you’re slow.  You Toad all disasters which Frog gets from Me.

 

            What do you think will happen?

 

                                                Toad Away

                                                Toad Away

                                                Toad Away

                                                Toad Away

                                                What did the Frog Croak

                                                When his Toad is Away?

                                       I had fun writing this                                                                                                                                     I had hopes that you had fun reading this                                                                                                     It will help my hope if you read some of THESE

The Photon Lights Up The Dog

 

            As usual, in my work a day world I’ve got the gears to be built with recurring angles and inside distances while my closest friend convinced them to use the same physically non breaking chemicals for each part that we designed, cut out of rocks and metals, and attached to our selling machines.  I did not say ‘Selling Machines’ because they get people to buy our materials, these ‘Selling Machines’ are the outputs that we sell to other manufacturers.  These are over our bosses’ heads so they may be ‘Ceiling Machines.’

            In the existences, I, the Dog, physically looks like a human.  After a while getting used to conducting with this world, I Cut my fur. I Shampooed my hair to lie straight.  I Died my own skin.  Shaved.  Dressed in human clothes.   While this was going on, my accomplice, The Photon, prismatically and lensically made himself look like a human.  He, with my help, worked on photograph’s negatives we rounded up and used to display Photon as a fellow human being.  Lighted colors directed by ions and magnets to make displayed pictures look three dimensional.

            We realized that Hypocrisy costs less today you know.  That’s what the president said on his TV show.  That red head turdy told us so.  Weak. Weak. We pay our Bills.

            It took me a while but I was able to usefully use Dog Clippers with Double Blades for Small Pet Hair Grooming Trimmer.  I found Vitiligo to give me an autoimmune conditioner to make my skin lose its pigment, causing me to look white with pink skin.

            My friend  used d-orbital splitting and electron emissions to make himself, even though he is The Photon, he now appears in different colors.  This Photon surrounded his molecules, which he referred to as ligands, in order to bond  the attracted ions causing their outer orbitals to split into chosen different energy levels.  Early on we made a mistake with hydrating copper(II) which caused it to absorb red light making the Photon. My fellow worker, appear blue-green.  He happily found a sodium which cast himself with bright yellow skin. Mg metal gave his skin an  intense white.   Cobalt(II) makes him Pink. Manganese and Titanium are being used to produce brown skin and hair.

            For me the Photon pointed out my, “Bean Hair, Dumb Hat.”

            I replied that, “At least I am a Good Spiller.  Not a Bad Killer.  I could have been a Godzillar.”

            Well, as I was getting used to acting like a human being I dressed myself up like the  various Dog Owners down the block and dug up some money to pay for a house.  The Photon, while he was still looking like a Photon, searched the top parts of the ground to find me money to dig up.  After we found and I physically dug up enough, I bought a house and banked the rest of the money to keep me fed and energized by gas and electricity and blood flowed with drinkable water for a few years.  The Photon showed me how to write up a resume which I typed up and sent out and got my job at a telephone allowing company.  I looked like a white man and I joined a caring group of multiple human races that put efforts to not discourage people in case we individuals thought they did not have related cell growths inside of us.

            Before I disguised myself as a working human, I would dig around the non-human worked change machines and AI ran restaurant windows to pick up dropped coins and dollar bills.  I also went to peoples’ garbage cans and grabbed by my teeth thrown out clothing and shoes.  After I shaved myself and died my skin to look human, I put on my rounded up pants and shirts and shoes. 

            At work now, I look like a human being and I build what many human beings need in one way or another.  In one place or another.   To do one thing or another.  I make for them:  Parallel Shaft Gears, Spur Gears, Helical Gears, and Herringbone Gears.  Me and my new friends also build Intersecting Shaft Gears: Bevel Gears, Mitel Gears.  Me, the Photon, and the next desk person make for our bosses to do what the business owners want us to build:  Linear Motion Gears, and  Rack and Pinion Steering.

            If I thought about it, I would think, “For Riches, for Purchase, for Snitches, for Britches, Till return due us Part.”  But the closest thing to a think is this what I had in my newly disguised head:  “My part is your part.  Are we part way?”

            What I went through started with my co-workers never talking to me the first three weeks here.  Then the Photon talked to them and at the end of the month he managed me to meet with and eat with them.  The office cafeteria was good and our general discussions were good.

            That Photon told me to transmit rotational motion, speed, and torque

dedicated platforms, local stores, and direct buyers for musical instruments, to please our outdoor boss.   Sadly, equipment is definitely not sporty,  gear buyers are photographed with hidden lenses.  I constantly wanted to simplify circular levers which used to transmit rotational force and motion.  Continuing in the work area, the next desk sandpapered off the sold interlocks with their applied forces red painted identically.  We all wonder, “Do their customers want moments or torque?”

            There was a poster the Photon told me to put up on our office wall said: “At the point of contact where two gear teeth meet, Newton's Third Law applies: the force applied by Gear A onto Gear B is matched by an equal and opposite force from B back onto A. Because gears have different radii, this identical contact force has a different "lever arm" (distance to the center axle)!”

            This caused the company owner to tell us to put on the sign outside the plant: “Conservation of Energy: Gears cannot create energy. The rate of work done, or power (Power = Torque × Angular Velocity), remains preserved across the system. If a gear configuration multiplies torque, it must proportionally reduce speed (angular velocity)!”

            I suddenly realized that my life, our lives, everyone’s live are the same, over and over and over again.  “Around the rocks and under the trees, the Photon and the Dog do what they please.  One looks human.  The other shines a view of him as a human.  They are friendly to each other, this time.  They work together in order to make enough money to live in an apartment and view what is around them.  Roots and foots and socks and blocks, work managers ignore what their outside life is.  My Friend, The Photon, and me, The Dog, only have to do the actual work that the manager makes the most money for.”

                                                                    I enjoyed writing this                                                                                                                                    I want you to enjoy reading this                                                                                                                    I would enjoy it if you read some of THESE

School Days, Fool Days, Here We Break The Rules Days

 

              There I was.  I had walked by, down the street, and you called me ‘A Dope.’   I feel like I’m the one you hate most.   Lately you’ve taken my money and you sure have taken my hope.  I’m afraid that soon you will kill me.  And that’s one of the ways how you chill me.

              Your actions are now beyond diatomic frictional garbage heightened ionic Jupiters, who keep killing lizards mounted on nucleic  objects while putting their own qualitatively radioactivity strongly together as they keep envisioning watery x-rays as yearly zoos.

              At our last fifth grade class you stood up from your desk and asked me, “What does Comet Sutra mean?”

              The teacher glared as I asked, “Is that the Curse of the Demon or  One of the Cures of the Demand?”

              The teacher asked the rest of the class, “Are they Deep Mud Eyes?”

              The kid in the desk in back of me asked the teacher, “And which Demon Nation are you in?”

              I smirked and said, “I’m in the Witch Demon Tune.”

              While the teacher asked me, “Did you just tune in or are you tuna?”

              And you pointed at me and asked loudly, “Will you ever find Solutions or just Salute Ions?”

              I said, “There sure is Tons of Fish.”

              The teacher then said, “You all have to stay after class because this ‘Re So Lute’ keeps going on and on and ons.”

              The kid in back of me said. “We are becoming overloaded with Ions.”

              To which the teacher pointed her ruler and said, “Demand Solar Tubes.”

              Someone I couldn’t see squeaked, “Don’t tony me!”

              I stood up and asked, “Me tea or Your Pride?”

              The principal walked in and asked, “Are you giving us another ride?”  Then he walked out the door and slammed it.  All of us in the class heard him singing in the hall way:

 

                             “You said cicada, I said luna.

                               You’ll say Maple. I’ll say Death Head.

                               ‘Cicada’, ‘Luna’, ‘Maple’, ‘Death Head’.

                               We need to call this whole thing a Moth.”

 

              That caused the teacher to chalk up on the blackboard, “Mothra Moth sure Try Cocoon Suits. Ya!”

              I raised my hand and asked when I was called on, “Is that an Insecticide or are their just Insects Inside?”

              The kid that started this argument with me yelled, “My Insect Just Died!”

              And that other kid in back of me said, “Well, My Injected Insect has only Just Dieted.”

              The teacher said, “There is nothing ‘Just’ about any one of you.”

              I got out of my seat and ran out the door, shouting, “You can’t go by me, but you sure can go bury me.  Some Say Moan Play Buried Haze.  Hay, Hay, Holy Grass it all, Ya All, Will Haul, In the Mall!”

              The kid that argued with me shouted, “The Plunge Will Find Their Way!”

              And there was the principal with the school’s nurse.  The nurse asked me, “Are you a Film Maker or do you Just Fill Marks with Hurt?”

              I said, “Nope, I am just Fudged Odor.”

              The principal said, “The Older you get The More in the same class You’ll look.”

              I ran home and my father told me, “I heard on the phone that Jack’s son leans.  Your school is Losing all your  old blue jeans.”

              My mother then pointed at me and said, “Those Magnetics sure are the prism on his vest.”

              That was when we noticed that ours was the dirtiest and cleanest street of this city.  It is the one made of mud and boiled in a microwave.  I thought, “So should I say ‘Good Bye?’”  But I knew I could not say ‘Good Buy!’ I decided that I’ll just turn the corner.  I’ll turn the corn when it is popped over.  That corn is so corny that it pops all the time.  So, at home we are in a time machine.  I sure am having my time smashed in.  It must be my intrude duction.  What ducks are you in?  Father’s here and his feather there, ‘Father’ ‘Feather’ I heard everywhere.  And that caused me to confusedly ask myself, “So where is that herd of ducks?  I am a nerd without luck.  Lucky, Lucky, Puch Change.”

 

              I then heard my Dad singing:

 

                             “Oh beer, who can my master be?

                               Seven empty bottles are falling all over me.

                               I must drive, so where on the street should I be?

                               Nobody knows I take dares.”

 

              And my mother asked, “Have I voted or am I vetoed?”

              My father pointed to me and replied, “I voted to veto you.  You had me feel like boated and life exploded.  That’s what I told Ed. Ed the Educator.”

              Then he told me, all the school’s recording said over the phone was:

 

                             “Burning Bush,

                              Plenty of Push,

                              Making Mighty,

                              Nickel Nush”

 

              That’s the way life was then.  That’s still the way life is now.  I realize that If you sneeze once I’ll sneeze twice.  If you die once, I’ll die twice.  We are just a couple of dice.  Nope, you certainly are a mice.  Is that your advice?  I guess I’ll take a splice.  I have a bunch of lice.

                                                           I enjoyed writing this                                                                                                                                     I hope you enjoyed reading this                                                                                                                     I want you to enjoy reading some of THESE