The rolls... like roast beef...

The rolls... like roast beef...

So, I came home to find the lifeless imp, half eaten, on the turtle's rock.  I have to admit that I breathed a sigh of relief.  He was fucking annoying.  I scooped up the little body, or what was left of it, and was about to throw it in the trash, when it screamed at me.  I was surprised, and I dropped him.  He fluttered up and laughed his ass off while I started to look for the fucking fly swatter.

Jesus, the Mexican Gardener sandwich was starting to rot, so I thew him away.

Judas, TBOC, was looking out the window, muttering to himself about how he wants a cock again.

I took a nap.  I think it's supposed to rain.

fuck

dreaming of bottles

dreaming of bottles

"You look rough," Judas, TBOC, observed.  "I mean, I heard the kids all night.  Been busy, huh?"

I nodded.  I made three bottle for the new one, and had a cranky boy who wanted all night to just get up and play.  and then he screamed his head off when I wouldn't get him up.  The little sleep I did get, I ended up dreaming of baby bottles.

I started some coffee.  I sent an email back to the guy at Conewago Coffee at Cygnet studios in E-Town.  I said I would take the Tuesday, March 21st, date.  I'll be reading and story telling at about 7pm... until who knows.  I asked him to tell me how long he'd like me to read.  Now I just need to get people to comeo ut and listen to me.  I guess I have to pretend I like people again to shmooze.

"You're still taking me, right?" Judas, TBOC, asked. 

Yes, Judas, the bag of chips, will be there. 

"What about me?" Jesus, the Mexican Gardener sandwich, asked.

I think he's starting to smell bad.  I wonder if I should have put him in the fridge.  eh...oh well.

I think I need coffee now.

fuck

Just a thought...

Just a thought....

"Looking up Japan on Google Earth again?" Judas, the bag of chips asked.

Just wishing I was going.  Oh well.

"What's so great about Japan, anyway?" Judas, the bag of chips, wondered. 

I was young, about twelve, when I first watched Akira.  It was just the beginning of my fascination with Anime and Japan.  There was a show, KOR, that made me really wonder what the culture was like over there.  And then we learned a little history in school... and it escalated.  Now, I want to go there and drink Tea.  I want to see the castles... and I just want to be there.

I suppose, liek everything else, the grass is always greener on the other side.  I've been known to jump proverbial lawns to get that greener lawn, and found it's just as brown as the old one was.  Maybe it's better not to go so I can keep the idea in my head that it would be amazing.

"You know, I wouldn't give up just yet," Judas, TBOC, offered.  "Hey, so you doing a reading soon?"

I think so.  I just got an email from this little place in town that would love to have me.  He sent me three dates, so I guess I should pick one.  I'll have to look at a calendar. 

"Can I come along?" Judas, TBOC, asked.

"Sure," I said.  At least I'll have one person there.  I wonder who would come out on a Tuesday evening?  Or anytime, for that fact. 

"Hey, by the way, I think your Imp pissed your turtle off," Judas, TBOC, said.

I looked over and there he is, the turtle, looking at the water from atop his rock.  I asked what had happened.

"The imp was trying to rodeo ride your turtle."

fuck

The sun has decided to be there once again after the earth had rotated around to us again. ugh.

The sun has decided to be there once again after the earth had rotated around to us again. ugh.

Jesus, the sandwich, sat by the young sprouts when I came down to feed the baby.  "Have you been neglecting these guys?" Jesus, the sandwich, asked.

I didn't know what to say.  I was curious how Jesus, the sandwich, happened to be there, but honestly, I'm just too tired to care.

"You know, I have a really good question for you that some one asked me," I said.  "For being god, you sure seem to only give a shit about plants.  Why is this?"

"Oh," Jesus, the sandwich, said.  "God, huh?  Did I say god?"

I nodded.

"Well, I may have exaggerated that a bit," Jesus, the sandwich, explained.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, my name is Jesus, but it's pronounced Hey-zoos," Jesus, the sandwich explained.  "I'm actually a gardener from Mexico."

Well, that explained the accent.  Huh.  Suddenly, the idea of eating a mayonnaise filled, sweaty, Mexican Gardener sandwich made me not feel so good.

I left Jesus, the Mexican gardener sandwich, with the sprouts.  I have to admit, it seemed odd all of a sudden to have a sandwich talking to me, but on the upside, I can go back to being an atheist who doesn't believe in god.  This works for me.

I went out to the kitchen and found the imp in the sink that was overflowing.  He was using a plastic dish as a raft and lounging under the light in Jams™.   I yelled and he jumped up and flew behind the microwave.  I turned off the water and unclogged the drain.  Fucking imp.

fuck

late night

late night

Can't sleep.

"Probably the caffeine in the double shot espressos," Judas, the bag of chips, noted.

Yeah... I had forgotten this one...  Oh, caffeine in large doses...  my other addiction...

fuck

fucking done for

fucking done for

"You look tired," Judas, the bag of chips, observed.

"Yeah," I admitted.  I just wanted to come home and veg out, but instead, I had to fill the fish tank with water because the fucking imp was drinking out of it like it was a soda.  Man, I can not wait to get rid of the fucking get rid of the fucker. 

"Yeah, well, he's been really irritating since you left this morning," Judas, the bag of chips, said.  "He decided to look for treasure in your cactus pot."

To put it lightly, I was pissed to find the fucking cactus on the floor and the fucking dirt emptied from the pot.  Fucking imp.

fuck

yubglublubi... i gmensl yu

yubglublubi... i gmensl yu

I was so fucking tired when I got to work today.  It was a rough morning.  The imp was tormenting the turtle by dangling food sticks before him and then throwing them into the water.  I yelled at the imp and he hid behind the tank.

"I told you so," Judas, the bag of chips, said.  "How was work?"

I shrugged.  It was work.  I hate the fucking job. 

"At least you have a fucking job," Judas, the bag of chips, said.  "And you have a cock."  He sighed.

It was about that time when Jesus, the sandwich, came in and huffed.  I turned around and looked at him and wondered how the fuck he got to my house.

"You had better not have fucked with the plants!" Jesus, the sandwich, barked at me.

"The fucking plants are fine," I said.  I turned and ignored him.  I was hoping he'd go away.  He didn't.  I finally turned back to Jesus, the sandwich, and asked what he wanted.

"Don't you like me any more?" Jesus, the sandwich, asked sadly.

I told him that I just haven't had time to stop and get a delicious Jesus.  But since he was there, I devoured his holy, mayonaised garnished body.

"You realize that he's going to just keep coming back again and again," Judas, the bag of chips, explained.

I nodded.

fuck

the boat in the fish tank

the boat in the fish tank

"You know, I haven't seen Jesus recently," Judas, the bag of chips, observed.

I nodded.  I was getting sick of him, and besides, he's not a cheep sandwich to have all the time.  And, I want to watch my weight.  Too much Jesus just goes to my gut. 

"So, how was work?" Judas, the bag of chips, asked. 

Not bad, I have to say.  I mean, I fucking hate my job and all, but it was okay of a day. 

Of course, that was before I got home and had to stop the imp.  He was sitting in the fucking fish tank with a little rod trying to catch my wife's fucking angel fish.  Fucking imp.

fuck

Poor Little Imp...

Poor Little Imp...

So, I went into the bathroom and could smell that fucking spray.  That god damned mother fucking spray.  I watched the fucking little thing where the imp was, and I could swear I heard very quiet whimpering.

"Yeah, and?" Judas, the bag of chips, prompted.

So, I said, "Hello?"  The whimpering stopped and the bathroom was silent.  I pissed and was washing my hands when I could swear I heard the slight sobbing. 

I went back to the bathroom before my shift was over, and I saw the imp sitting on the little machine.  He saw me and shrugged.  "It don't matter no more," he said.  "I've lost all the others, and I'm fucking trapped in this bathroom."

I asked why he doesn't leave, and he just said that he doesn't want to be seen.  But he was losing his interest in caring.

"I can sneak you out in my cd case," I offered. 

So now, he's sitting here in the living room and waiting for spring.  I promised to take him to a park to find his friends when it got warm again.

"You brought a fucking imp to your house..." Judas, the bag of chips said.  "You are such a fuck."  He shrugged and walked away.

Uh... huh?  Never mind.

fuck

hmmmm... should I?

hmmmm... should I?

"You would come and see me if I was having a book singing, right?" I asked Judas, the bag of chips.

"Yeah," he, the bag of chips, said.  "Why, you having one soon?"

I sighed.  I've been contacted by a company that works with a small publishing firm.  They basically do this program where they offer a half price deal, so to speak, on their services.  Their services are simply that they tell people that you exist.  I have a book, and they tell people that I have a book.  This publishing company provides the books if you sell any.  If it does well, it could be the beginning of a really good thing.

"So, what's the problem?" Judas, the bag of chips, asked.

I shrugged.  "I don't know.  I guess that there's just this worry that I'm buying into a dead end.  I just don't know.  I mean, I'm a good weaver of a tale, but am I really worth it?  You know, the funny thing about that very statement is that I want a publisher to take  that risk for me.  I've played it safe all this time, but maybe I need to just do it!"

"Alright!" Judas, the bag of chips, shouted as he jumped up and down for a second.  He stopped, slumped, and looked away.

"Did I just see you move?" I asked.

"I don't know," Judas, the bag of chips, said with a shrug.

"Um..." I started, but I stopped.  I just decided to leave it.  I'm pretty sure that bags of chips can't move on their own... so I must have just been seeing things.  "Yeah, maybe I'll do the thing with the people to promote my... book.  I think I'm tired."

"You should try to get a little sleep before you have to get up again," Judas, the bag of chips, suggested.

yeah, sleep...

Fuck

the fucking retards

the fucking retards

"You looked irritated," Judas, the bag of chips, observed.

So, I get to the school to drop the kid off, and they decided because of the snow to not have parents drive down the hill to come around to the door.  so they have me let the kid out in front of the school.  Now, I understand that because of the snow, people may get stuck trying to slowly get up the little hill, but they hadn't really thought it out so well.  In fact, what happened was that they drastically shortened the path for the line that now spread out both ways into the main road.  Only, they were trying to get all the buses in too, and this made all traffic get stuck.  So there I was, wanting to turn out of the school and into the line that was waiting to get into the school, while a long line was waiting to get from the other direction.  Only no one else could get in unless the line moved behind me, but they couldn't move until I did... and I couldn't move because I was waiting to exit by turning into the line of traffic that was waiting to get in... and they couldn't move because the line had stopped because I needed to move so that....  you get it?

"And these people directing the traffic," Judas, the bag of chips, speculated, "They're the teachers who teach your children?"

I nodded and sighed.

Fuck

Up fucking Early

Up fucking Early

I was up earlier than I wanted, and I just gave up on sleep.  My mind is too full of things.  Kinda bummed. 

"You thinking?" Judas, the bag of chips, asked.

Yup, I told him.  I'm thinking about this thing that I was offered about having my books available in the stores.  I guess I'm not worth the full risk of fully backing my book in print, but I'm worth the risk of splitting the costs of doing this? 

"It's the fucking economy," Judas, the bag of chips, explained.  "Authors like King and Card, and all those that already have a big following could write a pile of shit, and no one would hesitate publishing it because they already make money.  People will buy a King book even if they have little fun money.  but a whole new author?  Well, no one has the extra cash to just take risks.  It sucks.  As for the opportunity to go halves?  Can't tell you what to do, but it may not be a bad idea.  Maybe you should look into what they've done for other authors first."

I nodded.  It made sense. 

fuck

harumph

harumph

I've been sitting at this computer for about an hour, just not able to write a fucking thing...  ugh.

"Dude, you wanna drink?" Judas, the bag of chips, offered.  "You should have a drink.  It'll make you feel good."

I sighed.  I'm tired and blah.  I just kinda want to lay down and read a book, but I don't know what I'd really like to read. 

"How about that drink?" Judas, the bag of chips, asked.

"Naw," I said.  I don't think I want to drink.  Okay, well, actually, I want a lot of beer and a bottle of whiskey.  But that won't get me anywhere.  But then again, maybe I need that.  You know, the not anything good where place.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Judas, the bag of chips, asked.

I keep thinking that I should make some fucking brownies with chocolate chips and peanut butter icing.  I don't know if that would be better than the booze.  Really, what the sad fucking state of life I live as I think about how good beer and...  fuck, A CHOCO-TACO WOULD FUCKING RULE THE FUCKING WORLD RIGHT NOW!

"You okay?" Judas, the bag of chips, wondered.

I nodded.  Nope.

fuck  

Oh well... fuckers

Oh well... fuckers

"So," Jesus, the sandwich, said to me as we sat there on the couch.  "Another one of those, huh?"

I nodded.  I sighed.

"You know, they can't say no forever," Judas, the bag of chips, offered.

 I nodded.

"So, ah, how are the peppers growing?" Jesus, the sandwich, asked.

"You are so fucking insensitive," Judas, the bag of chips, shouted.  "Get the fuck off your fucking peppered horse, you fuck!  He's just gotten another rejection, and your worried about your peppers, you fuck.  as though there can't be anything more fucking important than your fucking peppers.  What about his feeling?  Huh?  Ever think of that?  What about my cock?  Huh?  But no!  Your fucking peppers are the only fucking thing in the fucking world.  God, you make me fucking sick you fuck!"

I nodded.  I sighed.

fuck

ugh

ugh

i'm tired.

"Get some fucking sleep," Judas, the bag of chips, said.

ok

fuck

gribble naktchi ughg

gribble naktchi ughg

"So, you going to bed soon?" Judas, the bad of chips, asked.

I said that I wanted to try to get a little more of this chapter written, and that the kid has to get a shower, too.

"You know, I miss bathing," Judas, the bag of chips, admitted.  "I used to bathe in this bathhouse where there were the most delicious young slave girls who loved to have anal sex.  You know, it's nice having anal sex with a young female slave girl because it's like sodomizing a young slave boy with the option of a vagina.  Ah, I miss those days.  You don't really have slave girls these days, do you?"

I shook my head.  I explained that all one needed was some money and Craig's List to find local prostitutes.

"Really?" Judas, the bag of chips, asked in wonder.

I nodded.  I showed him, and showed him that some even have pictures.

"Wow, your slave girls are expensive," Judas, the bag of chips, observed.  "No wonder you're in a long term relationship."

I assured him that it's not really a financial decision.

fuck

a bzz bzz bzzzz a bzz bzz bzzzz

a bzz bzz bzzzz a bzz bzz bzzzz

I couldn't get this fucking song out of my head where this hippie guy is playing for a bunch of punks and he shit's on the stage and cuts himself with a razor and pisses on the audience while singing this lame ass hippie song.

"Yeah, dude," Jesus, the sandwich, remarked.  "That's a fucked up thing to have in your head all day.  On a side thought, how's the fucking imp?"

I sighed and watched the show again with the hippie...

fuck

Fucking fly swatter bull shit

Fucking fly swatter bull shit

"Sooo... The fly swatter was a no go?" Jesus, the sandwich, inquired as we sat on the couch.

No fucking shit!  I went to the bathroom, fly swatter in hand, and the fucking imp sprayed me in the fucking eyes as I looked to find him.  So there I was, jumping up and down, yelling, "You Fuck-douche-fucking-cock-wad-fucker!" when three of the managers from the district management meeting walked in.  I washed out my eyes and told them that the thing went off, but I doubted they would have believed me about the imp.  I left the bathroom with red eyes and a hateful disposition for the fucking thing. 

"I knew it," Judas, the bag of chips, laughed.  "The imp is a tricky fucker.  It's not as easy as that to get rid of them."

I sighed and ate Jesus, the sandwich.  Even his delicious, crusty body couldn't ease my hate for the fucking imp. 

fuck

fucking fastnauchts

fucking fastnauchts

"How many of those things did you eat?" Judas, the bag of chips, asked as I yawned.

I shrugged.  "About six."

"Fuck, that's a lot," Judas, the bag of chips, observed.

I nodded.  "I fucking love fastnauchts.  No idea why, I just fucking love them."

You know what I love?  Keeping in mind the intention of the Fastnaucht, I love the idea of buying day old Fastnachts.  (if you found that funny, you don't sleep any more either, or you think like me.  either way, I'm sorry.)

fuck