Saturday, April 30, 2011

Dr. Kraken of the Institute for Sea Monkey Studies

The Institute for Sea Monkey Studies is located in an abandoned celluloid mine nearly a mile beneath Reno, Nevada. Dr. Kraken is the head and sole researcher at the institute, and has in fact toiled away in near-isolation for the better part of thirty years.

"I should have retired ten years ago," says the good doctor, "but I stay on. Do I ever get tired of it, peering through a microscope day after day, watching my little sea monkeys? Not at all, not at all. In fact, I'm always excited to fire up my microscope in the morning and say hello to my little friends. That's how I think of them . . . my . . . little . . . friends."

"Okay, maybe I should get out more, but I enjoy my job. It's good work, important work, and I feel I am one of the happiest men on earth, or under it, as the case may be."
Thank you Dr. Kraken.

Friday, April 29, 2011

Scenes from a Married Life

DO WHAT I SAY! JUST SHUT UP AND DO WHAT I SAY! DO IT! DO IT! AAAAAUGH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUGH! DO WHAT I SAY!

And that was just the honeymoon.

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Professor Karen Grettlebach's PowerPoint Presentation

As you can see, my esteemed colleagues, our efforts to combat the skypigs have met with steadily diminishing success . . .

We believe this is because of the terrorist activities of the traitorous squirrels and pigeons.

Comrades, it is obvious what must be done. We must offer human sacrifice to the skypigs. I'm asking for a volunteer here. Which of you would like to have the honor of being a sacrificial victim?

. . .


Come now, don't force me to resort to violence


Shit! Looks like it's time to up her meds again.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

A Matter of National Security.



An important message from General Shanker:

Be on alert for individuals who may have leaked information about our current state of affairs. If this information were ever to fall into the wrong hands, the consequences would be devastating. Therefore, all liquid aiders will be reduced to a fine powder and shipped to the moon to live out the remainder of their days.

It is a harsh judgment, but a fair one. It is absolutely vital to national security that the American people not know about the skypig invasion.

Also, avoid all contact with pigeons and squirrels. Do not feed them, talk to them, or accept gifts from them. They may be double agents.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Grandma Riker's Home Remedy



A simple home remedy that really works!

In a small saucepan mix one(1) tablespoon honey, two(2) tablespoons vinegar, a pinch of cinnamon and one quarter(1/4) cup skim or nonfat milk.

Heat mixture over low heat for five minutes, stirring monotonously.

Remove from heat. Breathe in the vapors and exhale three times. Pour mixture into one(1) small bottle, an empty aspirin bottle would be ideal. Cap the bottle tight.

On a clear, moonless night, dig a hole in a desolate place and bury the mixture along with three(3) white hairs from a roadkill animal. A skunk or opossum would be ideal.

Walk around the mixture backwards three times chanting, "I eat you, fallow pig, I eat you, fallow dog, I eat you fallow lava lamp."

Cut yourself and bleed.

If you follow these instructions carefully, the thing that comes in the night to devour your soul will be banished from you forever.

Maybe.

Monday, April 25, 2011

What the Duster Man Wants


The duster man is never happy except when he is out driving along a deserted road. But he doesn't like the roads around here because there are too many cars. There is always some shit behind you tailgating or some other shit ahead of you making you slow down. And you can't throw your trash out the window for fear somebody will tattle.

The duster man buys ten lottery tickets every Saturday, and if he ever wins, he knows just what he will do. He will drive away, leave his bitch wife and his two mouthy teenage daughters, just drive and keep driving.

He'll keep driving until he finds that deserted highway where he can cruise along for the rest of his life, no cars ahead or behind, eating junk food and tossing the wrappers out the window all day, stopping at cheap motels and drinking beer until he passes out every night.

That is all he really wants for the rest of his life.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

The Grenadier in Hiding



The grenadier is in hiding. The building is stalking him again. He has changed his phone number and carapace three times now and the building always finds him. He has to find a safe place where he can work on his plans for the new pyrotechnics.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Spring Brain Trouble



It was a fine spring morning when I went to see Doctor Benblossom about the headaches. The nurse weighed me and checked my blood pressure. Then she left me to wait in the examining room.

I looked out the narrow window and saw it was getting darker outside. There was a distant rumble of thunder. The doctor came in.

"Headaches, eh?" Doc Benblossom said after he examined my file. "Well, Let's have a listen to your thoughts."

He pressed his cold stethoscope to my forehead. I tried not to think of anything embarrassing, but the best I could do was imagining Scarlett Johansson giving me a lap dance. Outside lightning flashed and there was a sharp crack of thunder. Rain began hitting the window.

"Seems normal," the doctor murmured. "Let's have a look at your brain." The rain came down harder. Little pellets of hail bounced off the window.

The doctor took an otoscope and dug deep in my ear, easing past my eardrum and into my brain. I felt a little dizzy as he stirred things around in there. The wind rose to a roar. The tornado sirens began to wail like lost souls. When the doctor spoke, I had to ask him to repeat what he said.

"I said," he bellowed, "the problem appears to be a chip embedded in your frontal lobe. It is controlling the weather. It will have to come out."

He hurriedly opened a drawer and pulled out a power drill and a long set of forceps. But then there was a deafening roar, like a freight train cliche in the sky. All we could do was duck and cover.

Friday, April 22, 2011

Grandma Riker



Grandma Riker says that winter up north is good suicide weather. All you have to do is wander out into the woods without a coat on a night when it is well below freezing. You sit down in some isolated place with a fifth of whiskey and drink until you fall asleep. She says that was how they did it when she was a girl.

She also likes to say that if she were God, she would destroy the world. She says we would all be better off. Maybe she's wrong, but then again maybe she's right.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

The Wrong Reflection


By midnight, the fog has lofted in and erased everything. In the early morning hours, the grenadier creeps along Hibachi street with his thermite bomb concealed beneath his carapace. At a random intersection he lights the fuse and tosses it high in the air.

For a few seconds the world catches fire. Everything is stripped away and anyone who happens to be looking in a mirror at that moment sees the wrong reflection. But why would anyone be looking in a mirror in the fog? Still, someone probably saw.

Or at least that is the hope of the grenadier as he watches the fog close back in and weeps because he has no more bombs.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

The Sameness of Days



The sameness of days began to take their toll on the princess. Always there were the same people, the same rituals. Despair began to infest her mirror. She was so lonely that she would have welcomed a volcano. But nothing erupted, no skypigs landed, it was only the same, the same, and more of the same until she wondered what she would have to do to get someone to lift the sky from over her head and let her sing. Perhaps she was the only one who could do it.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

The UFO's are Hiding in The Trees



UFO's are just out of sight, hiding in the trees. They are in all the world's capitals. They may be controlled by the sky pigs. Everyone should be careful. Especially when it is leafy branches outside.

The evil goat man has carved a wax figurine of the princess. Now he is happy.

Monday, April 18, 2011

The Body Snatcher



The body snatcher hid in the storm. The lightning was perfect for the skypigs when they dropped their sad payloads. The man in the telescope suffocated behind the lens. They had to close the observatory for three weeks.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Anhedonia



Do you still get to scream?
Not very often, but only if I confiscate the photographs. Nobody can touch the hair. The birds will still sing, the blood will still be confined, but not for long. It will split its infinities and drown the fish.

The smoke diffuses. I feel nothing. Anhedonia, Anhedonia, I'm in love with a swirl called Anhedonia.

***

Bridges fail soon before the despair of rising is foundered. It is hot in Antarctica, and the penguins are molting from the radiation. The Dog-tongued flower spins and blooms, the aurora falls like melting flare wax. All is quiet in my septum.

***

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Keith Lanyon's Neighborhood Watch


Keith had always thought of himself as a reliable person. He was the kind of guy people could turn to in times of trouble.

But there were no crises in his neighborhood, at least none that he knew of. The volcanoes on his street were quiet, no cats ate the leaves off the trees. It was always quiet as he crept along the streets on dark moonless nights, tapping everybody's doors and windows to make certain all was secure. And it always was.