aLiEnAnTiCs !!!
Showing posts with label unquotables. Show all posts
Showing posts with label unquotables. Show all posts
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Holiday Weekend Funnies.
aLiEnAnTiCs !!!
alright, skipped a week due to vacation stuff, back on track now (sort of):
unQuotables
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Saturday, June 4, 2011
s-s-sunday funnies
click on pic to humongitate.
aLiEnAnTiCs!!!
MONSTERS meets Dog Vs. Cat
"unquotables"
aLiEnAnTiCs!!!
MONSTERS meets Dog Vs. Cat
"unquotables"
Monday, May 23, 2011
doodles for Sunday
aLiEnAnTiCs!!!
monsters!
monsters!
another silly UnQuotable..this one stealing the artwork of the master, C. Schulz.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
an exercise in futility
She rubs against me sending static charges up my leg.
I look down at her, Fluffernut, and am in no way reminded of Princess Leia garbed in white and transmitting like some ghost scattered over a million radio waves.
She purrs up to me, circling my leg, mewling, but now I can't get the image of the princess in decrepit surrounding, scantily clad and near to falling out of her metal bra.
Suddenly I am reminded of my condition and I hastily kick Fluffernut away in a ball of screeching cat fury while rummaging through my cargo pockets for a bottle of pain killers.
Popping off the cap I hastily dump out a lone pill, but a soundless lightning strike interrupts the moment; I see the pill tumble forth into the palm of my hand in slow motion, then the lights go out.
Only my static image remains to me against the drawn white curtain and I appear pale and featureless like a mummy in a vintage horror flick.
The pain refuses to subside as I fall to my knees in search of the dropped pill, still in the dark but led on by the colored spots that cloud my eyes.
I am in a fog and can almost see myself from a distance, as if I'm detached, when I hear the amplified creaking of my back door, and a skinny man slinks through the opening with a baseball bat in his raised right hand.
My head is still roaring with a migraine upheaval and my fingers are raking through the carpet even as my second sight observes the predator as he invades my humble abode in the dark.
Scrambling on my hands and knees like a dog I frantically back under the dining room table, still feeling about for the pill, but avoiding the careful step of the armed burglar.
He is quiet but hears nothing but the patter of rain on the windows so he lowers the bat and pulls out a flashlight to get the lay of the land, not expecting to see a fully hair raising event staring at him from atop the kitchen table, an agitated cat, so outside of its natural state of being.
The intruder backs up upon seeing the hissing beast, saliva dripping from its fangs, and trips over a chair that I had pulled out earlier, but in mid fall the lights flicker back to life even as he clutches the flashlight in his clenched fist like a life preserver.
Fluffernut leaps and he whips his arm up to fend off the bite, screaming out loud, but fails in his attempt to make anything but a low breathy moan, tasting on his own breath the minty flavor of Aquafresh.
It's all in slow motion as the lights go down again and lightning flashes illuminate the room showing two masters facing off across the stoic mine field of emotions.
The throbbing in my head serves as a backdrop to the illusion unfolding before my eyes and I can see the hapless burglar, now flailing and tangled in a haphazard chair as the assassin cat dips into the thief's jugular in initiation.
Not even Wonder Woman's sniper rifle would help this poor bastard now as he bleeds out onto my Berber.
Slowly I inch forward onto the green swath while attempting to avoid the snare of table legs and a spreading red pool.
It's in my head now that Fluffernut is my protector, sent to me from above by some weird guardian angel, like a little dragon to perch on my shoulder and devour any dangers that lie like pitfalls to my step.
Again the lights pop on and I take in the scene, holding my throbbing skull and hoping my girlfriend doesn't happen to stop in for an unscheduled visit, even as I hear a car horn toot out on the street.
Damn, now is not a good time, obviously; but on the bright side the wind that is wailing through an open window not only is splattering water on my unrinsed dishes, but also tossing my hair and cooling my sweaty bare chest.
My attention is diverted to my brain again, throbbing, and as long as the lights are back on I start visually searching the ground for my dropped pill, thinking it should be more like an Easter egg hunt than looking for a needle in a haystack.
The rain begins to strengthen and droplets spatter the sill to soak the already red drenched floor, and instead of finding the illusive pill and quelling my ill, I see the body under the primping Fluffernut shudder.
I stutter back feeling my naked feet sucking at the carpet like shoes on a theater's sticky floor.
Why is this happening to me, I wonder clutching at my head and moaning alongside the pain, and in a mindless fury I grab at the sink and pull from under a pile of dirty dishes a cleaver, ready in my madness to invoke heinous crimes upon the unsuspecting dead and then perhaps to turn the blade onto myself.
Then the door, ajar, creaks open and silhouetted against a sky that has begun to lighten as the storm pushes off to the east is my pretty girlfriend, dressed in a floral pattern and beaming like she usually does, oblivious to most of what life has to offer.
She is carrying an umbrella and she bends at the waist while lowering and pulling it closed, giving me a perfect view of the street beyond stretching forth into obscurity.
She is tall, Scarlett, and dumb as a box of rocks, but eventually she notices the carnage and pouting she bites at her lower lip.
Still moaning, I am shirtless in my underpants and wielding a meat cleaver crazily in front of me like a blind gardener hacking at his unkempt shrubbery.
“Who are you,” screams Scarlett, knowing full well it's me, but scared shitless as I rip at the air and stumble dazed across the carpet.
She is only at the fringes of my sanity while the nights activity looms heavy; the storms, the pain, the carnage, and all I can see is hell unleashed and flaring, surging; I just want it all to go away.
Scarlett speaks and in my psychosis all I can see are multiple girlfriends circling the room and striking incomprehensible poses alongside the shifting walls while I turn in circles and wonder what new horror will rise up next.
“Do you want to see a movie?” she asks from out of the blue.
I feel the pill moving down my gullet, instantly purging the vertiginous cues, while Scarlett plucks up the evening's newspaper from the table and skips to the entertainment section.
Fluffernut scratches my leg and I itch my nose as I think of an alternative; “not tonight,” I say, “how about we just stay in and, you know...”
I look down at her, Fluffernut, and am in no way reminded of Princess Leia garbed in white and transmitting like some ghost scattered over a million radio waves.
She purrs up to me, circling my leg, mewling, but now I can't get the image of the princess in decrepit surrounding, scantily clad and near to falling out of her metal bra.
Suddenly I am reminded of my condition and I hastily kick Fluffernut away in a ball of screeching cat fury while rummaging through my cargo pockets for a bottle of pain killers.
Popping off the cap I hastily dump out a lone pill, but a soundless lightning strike interrupts the moment; I see the pill tumble forth into the palm of my hand in slow motion, then the lights go out.
Only my static image remains to me against the drawn white curtain and I appear pale and featureless like a mummy in a vintage horror flick.
The pain refuses to subside as I fall to my knees in search of the dropped pill, still in the dark but led on by the colored spots that cloud my eyes.
I am in a fog and can almost see myself from a distance, as if I'm detached, when I hear the amplified creaking of my back door, and a skinny man slinks through the opening with a baseball bat in his raised right hand.
My head is still roaring with a migraine upheaval and my fingers are raking through the carpet even as my second sight observes the predator as he invades my humble abode in the dark.
Scrambling on my hands and knees like a dog I frantically back under the dining room table, still feeling about for the pill, but avoiding the careful step of the armed burglar.
He is quiet but hears nothing but the patter of rain on the windows so he lowers the bat and pulls out a flashlight to get the lay of the land, not expecting to see a fully hair raising event staring at him from atop the kitchen table, an agitated cat, so outside of its natural state of being.
The intruder backs up upon seeing the hissing beast, saliva dripping from its fangs, and trips over a chair that I had pulled out earlier, but in mid fall the lights flicker back to life even as he clutches the flashlight in his clenched fist like a life preserver.
Fluffernut leaps and he whips his arm up to fend off the bite, screaming out loud, but fails in his attempt to make anything but a low breathy moan, tasting on his own breath the minty flavor of Aquafresh.
It's all in slow motion as the lights go down again and lightning flashes illuminate the room showing two masters facing off across the stoic mine field of emotions.
The throbbing in my head serves as a backdrop to the illusion unfolding before my eyes and I can see the hapless burglar, now flailing and tangled in a haphazard chair as the assassin cat dips into the thief's jugular in initiation.
Not even Wonder Woman's sniper rifle would help this poor bastard now as he bleeds out onto my Berber.
Slowly I inch forward onto the green swath while attempting to avoid the snare of table legs and a spreading red pool.
It's in my head now that Fluffernut is my protector, sent to me from above by some weird guardian angel, like a little dragon to perch on my shoulder and devour any dangers that lie like pitfalls to my step.
Again the lights pop on and I take in the scene, holding my throbbing skull and hoping my girlfriend doesn't happen to stop in for an unscheduled visit, even as I hear a car horn toot out on the street.
Damn, now is not a good time, obviously; but on the bright side the wind that is wailing through an open window not only is splattering water on my unrinsed dishes, but also tossing my hair and cooling my sweaty bare chest.
My attention is diverted to my brain again, throbbing, and as long as the lights are back on I start visually searching the ground for my dropped pill, thinking it should be more like an Easter egg hunt than looking for a needle in a haystack.
The rain begins to strengthen and droplets spatter the sill to soak the already red drenched floor, and instead of finding the illusive pill and quelling my ill, I see the body under the primping Fluffernut shudder.
I stutter back feeling my naked feet sucking at the carpet like shoes on a theater's sticky floor.
Why is this happening to me, I wonder clutching at my head and moaning alongside the pain, and in a mindless fury I grab at the sink and pull from under a pile of dirty dishes a cleaver, ready in my madness to invoke heinous crimes upon the unsuspecting dead and then perhaps to turn the blade onto myself.
Then the door, ajar, creaks open and silhouetted against a sky that has begun to lighten as the storm pushes off to the east is my pretty girlfriend, dressed in a floral pattern and beaming like she usually does, oblivious to most of what life has to offer.
She is carrying an umbrella and she bends at the waist while lowering and pulling it closed, giving me a perfect view of the street beyond stretching forth into obscurity.
She is tall, Scarlett, and dumb as a box of rocks, but eventually she notices the carnage and pouting she bites at her lower lip.
Still moaning, I am shirtless in my underpants and wielding a meat cleaver crazily in front of me like a blind gardener hacking at his unkempt shrubbery.
“Who are you,” screams Scarlett, knowing full well it's me, but scared shitless as I rip at the air and stumble dazed across the carpet.
She is only at the fringes of my sanity while the nights activity looms heavy; the storms, the pain, the carnage, and all I can see is hell unleashed and flaring, surging; I just want it all to go away.
Scarlett speaks and in my psychosis all I can see are multiple girlfriends circling the room and striking incomprehensible poses alongside the shifting walls while I turn in circles and wonder what new horror will rise up next.
“Do you want to see a movie?” she asks from out of the blue.
I feel the pill moving down my gullet, instantly purging the vertiginous cues, while Scarlett plucks up the evening's newspaper from the table and skips to the entertainment section.
Fluffernut scratches my leg and I itch my nose as I think of an alternative; “not tonight,” I say, “how about we just stay in and, you know...”
another freaky unquotable
Saturday, May 14, 2011
cabezza inherant
You will keep your head on a string
a fine thing
of paste and jelly beans,
still you honor your hedgerow
it's a portent of your taste
that the beans grow long
like the winds stretched taut
over a sojourn.
Fine, transmogrify the head
to a bookmark
in a sandwich of pages
trapped around your eyes
that see nothing
except if it's a word
upon word
one each after the next,
skip a line, sight transfixed
alerted and keen upon the point
taken.
Take a memory shot
and hold to it
a fine thing
of paste and jelly beans,
still you honor your hedgerow
it's a portent of your taste
that the beans grow long
like the winds stretched taut
over a sojourn.
Fine, transmogrify the head
to a bookmark
in a sandwich of pages
trapped around your eyes
that see nothing
except if it's a word
upon word
one each after the next,
skip a line, sight transfixed
alerted and keen upon the point
taken.
Take a memory shot
and hold to it
while the gulls flock from your body,
sparks sizzle at your breast
giving rise to acrobatics
and tasteless innuendo.
A cloud head now
shroud for a passive titan
gingerly peeking
is spreading his fleas
in opaque
and teardrop apologies.
sparks sizzle at your breast
giving rise to acrobatics
and tasteless innuendo.
A cloud head now
shroud for a passive titan
gingerly peeking
is spreading his fleas
in opaque
and teardrop apologies.
another ridiculous unquotable.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
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