Bone Moats

All I want for Christmas is thrysisters for my my tube. Moxi Bustion, Milly Subluxion, and Fanny Brite. When the chips are down. Same time, same channel. Pray to the Gipsy Rose, clickety schick, the well-rounded earth mother who played flat out at her Korg keyboard, down at the Vulgus videoarcade. A strange attractor in the bit stream, underneath the cafeteria. 

We’ve met before. I’m the child of the atom bomb, a kissing cousin of sputnik twice removed, hummer and satchel. We still remember our first tv. We remember watching the couple calypso, peeping tomboys like Santa, hammer of twitches. Jugg band music in the attic, jug jug juggler, the juggler in vain. The Mooty in maw. One moment please, we’re experiencing faulty reception. 

Seated by my side. Silver bells and rusty mufflers. The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes. Face the moon. Make the bate, the gens inconnu. Round John Virgin and his tempest in a teapot, the Green Mountaineers. Jimmie crack corn and I don’t care, Maxwell’s mogen demon has got one up on Kelper’s toothy fairy, the dirty diddle dwevill. A veritable king of the road, we were well pleased with the cut of his coat of many coloreds. 

He forgot usetoday’s newspappers at great crosst to us all. The superstar of the Bethlehem Steelers was iron to the core.

Wass tass mell? Eau de ewe. Pas mall. Paw maw. Pell mell. Call for Philip Morrison. He’s wanted on the chesterfield.

“Nice cookies,” he said as he passed with a hat. Aqua vit.

Drama and drampa don’t wanna knose. But when man does nose woman, we all can be accessories after the fat. Purse you, belt we, and smell me Rhonda. “I like your shoes.”

Whereupon it was recumbent upon her to pass the cucubits and succubust. Spread the jams and say a mass transit of superstarlets. May you fall into the chasm of the Cathode Ray whenever you’re up that way. Particulates in Canada.

High overheard, lickety split, launch the missile into her widow of invulnerability. Stuffing the ballotrina’s box, doing what comes naturally.

Whether yr a standin or a sit in, doing yr business in someone’s biffy, scanning the contents of her medicine chest, do not exhibit pour spurtsmanshit. Do not pass go in the pantry and rifle her drawers. It will fly in the face of the facts, ma’am, if you’re pulling your own weight. For chrissmisst my twseetie gave me a come-along. Chown doen. I stripped the gear box making frozen firewood. 

The vandals took the handle. Friar Tuck’ll find them. Feelem. Then he’ll forgetem. Like a butcher’s dog.

Where’s the beef? At top dead centre. Stand up and be accountants. I’d like to apply for that position in reproductive biology. Fill out yr forms.

Eidedic cate. This nest song to all you mothers out there on ground zero. Noynt your face overnight with Lac virginis. Betty’s on the meat ball.

She’s always had the look of the eyeish. Perjaps she worm her firm kirt and fuzzy chaps to go out for a roll in the bakery. At the Masters’ tournament of Johnson’s wax where Humpetey Cumbetty wailed at a bale. All the king’s whorses and all the kink’s men couldn’t pub hummey agasser agrin. 

Bowling is rite up my allie, said Sallie. Oop, said Paul. Bowling ball. She sports a succulent pair of knockers. He’s got a hankering to drop in on her, she in her knickers as she is, and he in his notch. Be my almagest, she said, my aide memoire. My angel puss. Heaven knows. 

How I’d love to burst in upon you right where yr expecting, left to yr own devices, to see how yr feeling, with hands across the waters.

He was forthwith promoted to a fifth order of the border garter by an extinguished night of the roam. He looked so florid in his toot suite, rudy to the tooth, a new fangled wolfman of the old school chum.

Fairboaten zoo sprachen? Shame on you, shaman, for breathing up all the laughing gas once upon, upon some verses of Virgil.

Well, the sky has the mountains on its side. Cleavage compelled cessation.

When the saltan of the earth raisins his swollen head and reigns over pearls before supper, then mean Mr. Mustard will inherit the broken wind. Next comes the the plasticine age. Arrows over the rainbow. Incomplete combustion. Musical movement made in Japan. Twat does a gisher girl wear under her kinono? Doubled over in pleasure, dreams really do come true. 

Pardon my interrupts, see-pee-you, but I don’t want to lose my type ahead. Normally of course the blitter and the sixtyeighthundred take tickles of eightyeights each. When the blitter hogs the cycles in native mode, who will service Miss Keyboard Interrupts? Bone mots. 

Did he say that his hat was in style?

No, he said that it was found in the sty, so put that in your eye.

Was he willing to comment on the pros and cons of frozen prawns?

Liketh the man on death row who was afraid of sparks, he was all clammed up and nowhere to glow.

Remember when the memory register was last cleared of bits? Hardware had a sale on entropy. Get it while it’s hot. According to the second lay, the layman’s guide to lay women. It’s a thermodynamically irreversible operation. We pay to have newspapers delivered, not taken away. 

Plant a man, boom town salmon. Mumbo jumbo, mon, by the light of the morning star. The mount of Venus. The fizziology of orgasm. Writ larege by a gnome de flume. Fireball.

Man as we know him. Women as well as you know her. The girl from ipomea convulva haunts my dreams. They can’t take that away from me.

I’m hair, wooden life! Us many, o world!

Best boy, state self. Legs between. Quark bush. Whose eyes shall branch? O father modules, ain’t les sentences owed swell?

Corn found yam. Happy messenger crossed ice horizon. Friend rises dancing, bellowing to a different zipper. Women flew thru peeling.

Large distributed systems are unstable. Wide swings of behavior. Busker Brown passed down the center of a corset.

There’s a quark down! Code Five. Call the Chromodynamics!

That royal tap on the shoulder during the dance between the sheets. Dripping tap, tap a sapper.

I’ve got a headache twoud split an atom. I suffered rejection at every hand because they said my type couldn’t be justified. Scan you now these polar bodies? I know you’re there because the string is slack.

When one of the balls tries to escape, the string gets tight. Renormalize your mass and charge the phenomena to the parameters. At Her Highness’s behest, The Royal Family was bestowed with a wave function.

On the horizon the fish were on their last legs, burping bigger bubbles than when we used to be kids. When we leaft awl the choir girls up the sprout. What’ll it be, sky blue water?

May we have the envelope please?

Philip my glass with seersawn music. For four days we loved on bred and vasser and on the fifth a doxen people freefell down mine canary.

Fiat lox. Let there be a Yang-Mills theory with all its gauge bosons, sordid like the man with the golden arm putting the rub on the woman with the steel toe. Back in the United Straights, so swob and devonaire. Ironically railroad construction was the reason for ships. 

General Electric passes the order on to the Kentucky Colonel. May you rock well, my boeing little one. May your informations be hard of chewing.

Quoths the raison, livermore. Like a byte? In a form appropriate for the supercomputer. The primordial fireball, if it exists, provides us with tangible evidence that the universe did pass through a hot, highly contracted phase. Spontaneous evacuation. Protecting the population. Attack related budget. All levels of government. Space-based defense. Incoming barrage. Random arrival. War in the skies. 

Woe to him who makes companions drink the outpouring of his venom, intoxicating them so that he may gaze upon their dancing girls. Full chasm five my fiddler lies. My foddler who art in carnate, pinky be his leaf. Those are parlez that view his eyes. Shiver me timbers in me mother’s tongue. There was no return address on the envelope of her voice. 

And ball the jack on the railroad track.

The railroad means escape. A weeping maiden seen at a ford, washing bloody garments, means one is about to die.

The wedding ceremony was conducted according to the strictly unwritten rituals of the two parties aforesaid, the Maori and the Minori. The ceremony occurred during the reign of the Elder Edda as the  Younger Dryas scattered the seed.

There was some johnny come lately on the spot dirty laundry doubletalk between the Freisians and the Mossilmins. This cannot be credited, nor the tale told by the surfers in Kingdom Come.

  A female supernatural being who lurks beneath the surface of weed-covered ponds and ditches, waiting to pull in and drown those who venture into or near the water.

1872   C. Hardwick Trad., Superstitions, & Folk-lore xiv. 279   I firmly believed that, if I disobeyed this instruction, a certain water ‘boggart’ named ‘Jenny Greenteeth’ would drag me beneath her verdant screen and subject me to other tortures besides death by drowning.

1931   A. Uttley Country Child iv. 47   She was warned against going near the pretty mill pond..for Jinny Green-teeth lived there, just under the bright green scum.

1980   D. Wakeham in Folklore (1983) 94 248   Ginny Greenteeth..enticed little children into the ponds by making them look like grass and safe to walk on.

   2. Any of various free-floating aquatic plants or algae which grow in ponds and stagnant water, forming colonies that cover the surface of the water, esp. the common duckweed, Lemna minor.

1904   Notes & Queries 7 May 365/2   At this day in all East Lancashire the older inhabitants call the green moss which covers the surface of stagnant ponds ‘Jenny Greenteeth’.

1970   T. Whittle Plant Hunters 257 less rich in equivalents than most English natives, but it still has ten, among them boggart creed, jenny green-teeth, duck’s meat and toad spit.

A penny dreadfulfor your thoughts. What a dreadful saying, said R after several moments. No more dreadful than your demeanor, said M. I affect not styles, said R, to which M responded, Your detested styles make work for seamstresses and tailors. Busy hands and idle minds, and slipshod to boot, R said, singing their hymns to the least common man, hymn 1024, A mot in one’s ASCII. M: Shh, I’m getting it tuned in. She fiddled with the knobs while ROM burned in a day. Squelch, static, hiss… the Firesign Theatre… zzzz za zz… Feenitches Playhouse… Payroll Jelly… Victoria Stanley — here it is! — hurry please, its time.

I feel like the caved in man with his image club and CPAWS AWACS, blundering down the tunnel of glub, R said as he pulled the rabbit ears out of his hat.

What, lost your transmittance, you knotty pittance, then you shall have no pie are squared, and your generators shall pine till yea on that day when the Bignum and Bailout circuits come on line.

A local cab driver, arrested after some white powder was found in his baggage as he returned from an overseas flight, will remain in jail for at least another week. Ayman Abed Raboh, who was mistakenly arrested along with three men in Fort McMurray suspected of having terrorist connections, says his life has been ruined. The Taliban is proving to be a surprisingly tough force, the Pentagon said Wednesday. “We can thank God that they don’t have aircraft, heavy armor, or shoes.”  U.S. jets logged deadliest-known attack on group linked to suspect bin Laden, killing 22 innocent people.

Of Peas and Bacon cum Commento

Mr. Hamstead, in the 8th Volume of his useful Collections, tells us, the vessels were very good made at Fulham, but all flat, the Difficulty in making a hollow Dish was thought insuperable, because it must be burnt to that Degree, that the Heat of the Fire made the Sides fall: But this ingenious Christian surmounted the Difficulty, and hath many Years ago actually made several very delicate Pots of English Materials.

In the glaze were wrought A Skeleton in Metal; it is well done, but only to the short Ribs. Venus and Cupid in Wax-work. A Sort of Bachus, or Antick, pouring out Liquor, with a Bull’s Head betwixt his Thighs, or perhaps a Rams, relating to some Local Custom, like that of a Flitch of Bacon at Dunmoe in Essex: It is of Wood, and hath in old Characters Belly merry In a different script. The History of Joseph of Arimathea’s entombing our Saviour, whose emaciated Corps is very well represented in the Winding-sheet.

Thou art to me more sweet 

than a thousand milligrams of synthetic sucrose

thou art to me more noble

than all the defrocked priests in Babylon

thou art to me more normal

than all the split infinities ever to collapse in this world or the next

thou art to me more natural

than  the bible

Sgt. Preston and Anne of Green Gables

Battling their way out of Lord Flogg’s fog in the Londinium Tower, Batman and Alfred, in a cab, and Robin in the Batmobile, head for Ffogg’s estate to rescue Batgirl. Ffogg and Lady Peasoup, discovering their lethal fog pellets are too stale to finish off Batgirl, go for a fresh supply and learn that Batman has entered the grounds. At the dungeon, Ffogg pushes Batman down the steps and throws the fresh gas pellets after him. Robin, meanwhile, has been bitten by a deadly bee, and Lady Peasoup instructs Prudence to take him to the girl’s dorm to die while they all go to the Tower of Londinium. Dispersing the lethal fog with Anti-Lethal Fog Batspray, Batman files away at Batgirl’s chains, and Ffogg, realizing he’s pressed for time, makes final plans for escape to Argentuela in a private plane.