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Copyright: Fred Robel, and Fritz365 2010-2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog's author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Fred Robel and Fritz365 with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Sunday, September 30, 2012

Oh Perfection

Oh perfection
I wouldn't know what to do with you
Nor would I recognize you
If you fell upon my face

So kissed by the nettles of every day
Nerves hidden beneath scars and scabs
They wouldn't know how you felt
Leap to your touch

Oh perfection
What do you sound like?
Could I know it if I heard it?
Dulled as my hearing is
From the sounds of my profession
The screams of metal and combustion

Oh perfection
What do you smell like
Compared to the extremes of a skunk
Versus the vague and floral flower
And worse when one merges into the other
Without a border or transition
The rotten and the sweet
Mixed and trodden under nose and under feet

Oh perfection
What do you look like
Could my soft cow eyes perceive you
Looking through their plastic prisms as they do
In and out of focus
Twitching at the sight of every day
The retina does not grade things on a scale

Oh perfection
Perhaps you are just a notion
Different for everyone
Overcoming all senses
Merging with them
Surrounding all in bliss
A brush with perfect
An angel's soft kiss

Saturday, September 29, 2012

Hipster Batgirl is Too Cool For You


Shaggy hair hanging over eyes
Sipping coffee from a brought along cup
Hipster Batgirl looked moodily at her dad

"Bruce..." she sullenly began

A large black gloved hand made a shushing motion
"Not while I'm working
How many times do I have to tell you?
It's either 'Dad', or 'Batman'"

Rolling her eyes and taking another sip of independently brewed coffee

Naughty hipster Batgirl
Caught breaking the rules
Too cool to do what all the other Superfriends do
And congregate at The Hall of Justice

She hangs out across town
With her own kind

All the androgynous hipster superheroes
Tight Jeans Man
I Was Into That Before It Was Cool Guy
Won't Give You The Time Of Day Woman
And of course
The Atomic Hipster

At least that's what Batman tells her
Trying to get Batgirl to toe the line once again

Hipster Batgirl just spreads her cape
Makes a face
And keeps on drinking her coffee

Muttering to herself
"Fucking conformist"

Friday, September 28, 2012

Once a Month

Let us retire to the bleeding room
Where the menses flow
Awash in a crimson glow
So much better than the men's room gloom

Amidst hanging red velvet curtains
We women can share our burden
Of virility and fertility
At least once a month for certain

In these Victorian times
In these southern hot climes
It's hot as hades in here
Let's all disrobe

Now nude and all sweaty
Wearing nothing but blood diapers
Our maid servants stand at the ready
To calm our blood sweats
And hold our frail frames rock steady

Won't you knit with me dear?
Here have some red woolen yarn
Oh my didn't you hear?
It's our team colors so to speak
Chosen with care by my husband Lord Beak

Of course that isn't his name
But I call him that just the same
For his nose could poke an eye out it's true
But wait this isn't news to you
I've seen you leaving his chambers at night

Hush hush my dear
There is no need to fear
Us women are more practical than that
To be honest I'd be more jealous if you wore my favorite hat

Lord Beak is all but used up and past his prime
You are welcome to his attention
As long as you don't mention
That I've moved on to my favorite footman

Now hold my hand darling
While we tell each other lies and bleed

Thursday, September 27, 2012

Supercolon & Megacomma

Supercolon and Megacomma
My stalwart friends
They give me superior powers
To write sentences without end

Just when I think I've reached a conclusion
Something else occurs to me
Oh, how to tie it in?
Why, simply insert Supercolon
And that tangential idea
Just fits right in

Have a long thing to say?
All along the same lines?
Megacomma is your friend for sure
Keeping the flow going
Holding their attention
Though the sides of that sentence bucket be bowing

Megacomma lets you have a sentence a page long
Or more

Supercolon gives you magical ability
To point and counterpoint
Give examples without end

Proper sentence structure is for sissies
It's time to make up our own rules
Nobody's grading I assure!

Supercolon Megacomma 2012!
Don't forget to vote

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Aspirations & Realities

I aspire to write The Cremation of Sam McGee
But end up with The Anguish of the Sugar Packet
Oh woe is me


Is piles of identical parts
All to be looked at and judged
Put in good piles and bad
A never ending pile
Most boring job I've had

War of The West Corner Restroom

The cockroaches and roly polys
Battled from grout line to grout line
Heedless of sunrise or sunset
A miniature battle scene suspended in time

In the abandoned Admiral station men's room
Every square inch valued in lives
Unable to live together
Unable leave and go it alone
That darkened dank bathroom
Might as well be an oasis in the desert
A safe harbor in a storm

At opposite ends of the room
Were the nests of the insects in question

In the red corner lay Armadillidium Vulgare
Like a low and slow armored tank
Legs almost hidden from view
Able to roll up into an impenetrable ball
At the slightest sign of a danger or two

In the blue corner lurks Periplaneta Americana
Evolved to live most anywhere
Long legs and antennae wiggling in the air
Determined to take over the world
Starting with this single room

Sgt Bronson rolled up upon his armored parts
Uncoiling in one motion
He saluted oh so smart
With a top set of legs

"Sir! The Roaches are trying to flank us around the south stool!"
He reported with zero enthusiasm

General Pillbug rolled a very tiny cigarette
Lit it and contemplated for a moment
"Bring the artillery around that side
Start a barrage to keep them pinned down
I'll round up the Specialists to take them out"

Sgt Bronson saluted again
And with a "Yes Sir!"
Was rolling on his way once again

General Pillbug sighed and peered at his map

This damned room
He thought to himself
Has kept us here for so many generations

Eyes darting up at the glow of the distant single window

If only there were a way to get up and out
To stop the slaughter

But he knew it wouldn't happen
He'd had that idea shot down too many times to count
If only he had proof of life outside this room

The General summoned the Specialists
Who rolled in
Their armor sparking on the ceramic tile expanse

The strike was routine
They'd all done similar things hundreds of times
And with a simultaneous salute they were on their way
To deal death to the Roaches once again

The General stopped the last Specialist before he rolled away
And beckoned him over

With a conspiratorial air
General Pillbug pointed up in the vague direction of the window to the world

"I don't suppose you know how to climb....?"

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Blank Cassette

You are the blank cassette of my life
Filled with shattered dreams and audio memes
All mixed just right

There's the sound of your lips
The first time they touched mine
Under the basketball bleachers
Hidden from the eyes of the teachers

The sound of us swaying
To a horrid eighties rock power ballad
In the gymnasium in the dimmed out lights
You were too pretty for me by all rights

You are the blank cassette of my life
With our giggling conversations
Said into my first pair of mics

I had a pretend radio show
And my recurring guest was you
We'd talk and talk
Till our faces turned blue
Then we'd take a deep breath
And I would kiss you

It's all right there
The songs of our life
Laid down with care
On that memorex tape
And written with pen
Crossed out and corrected
As life would change again

You are the blank cassette of my life
All the best and worst is preserved
Like when I asked you to be my wife

The sound of your tears
As you said yes
The sight of you
In your white dress
It all made a sound
That I kept around
On that blank cassette tape

But things never last forever
Just like audio tapes degauss
Things bleed through here and there
Then fall apart just because

Now you have the blank cassette of my life
It was in the glovebox of my truck
That you got in the divorce along with the dog
Well dang my bad luck

I'll have to get a new one I suppose
And go on with my life
Making new sounds and shiny tunes
Mixing it all up just right

Monday, September 24, 2012

Splashdown pt2

The beef meal with the cherry pie dessert
That's all I could think about
The crew was busy with their after takeoff things
Checklists and climb out

Out my side window
The lights of Chicago disappeared
Replaced by the inky black dark of Lake Michigan
Dotted by the occasional lights from a fishing boat

I was trying to decide when it would be safe for me to get up
Not just in the physical sense
But in that I didn't want anyone to notice me do it

I'd seen the flight meals loaded in the boxes back at the gate
I'd eyeballed them all
But I'd forgotten to set aside my meal
The only meal with the cherry pie dessert
The rest had cake
And the chocolate cake from Chicago O'Hare sucked
Don't ask me why
Chicago is famous for a a lot of stuff
But I guess chocolate cake isn't one of them

Every few days we rotated through O'Hare on our cargo route
Every few days I put up with awful chocolate cake
But gods be praised
Today it seems they ran short of that vile sheet cake
Today there was one cherry pie

The time seemed about right
We'd stopped the steep climb right after takeoff
And were into the more gradual constant climb to altitude

I made my move

Stealthily I watched the crew with one eye
Half wishing there was a cockpit door
But being an all cargo plane it had been removed
The crew had their eyes on their work
So I kept my eyes on mine

I disappeared from their view in the shelter of the galley
Where I dug out my meal with the pie
I made my way back to my seat
Hiding the meal in a cabinet next to my seat
I was just turning to sit down
When I was knocked to the deck by a sudden yaw of the plane

I could hear the captain swear as I picked myself up carefully
But no more unusual movements occurred
So I staggered up to the front to see what was up

"Something's happened to #1 engine"

I looked at the gauges on the center panel
Sure enough it was all out of whack
Some of the #1 engine gauges were flagged
One was pegged at maximum
One bounced wildly from stop to stop

The copilot turned his head to me

"Go look out the windows and see if you can see something"

His hand reached up and flicked on the wing lights as he said it

I turned and left the cockpit
Switching the upper cabin lights off as I passed the panel
So it would be easier for me to see out into the darkness
I crouched down next to the side windows
Looking out across the illuminated left wing
I could see where the #1 engine should be

But it wasn't there

The pylon was there
But that was it
It was as if a maintenance crew had removed the engine
And then sent us on our way
It was like it had never been there

In my mind
A short animation played over and over
A leftover from some training I'd done at Boeing years ago
Where they'd shown a stop motion sequence
That demonstrated what happens when an engine comes off a 747 in flight

It doesn't simply fall down to the ground
The breakaways are designed to allow the engine to go forward if it wants to
As it would under thrust when it is suddenly free of the weight of the plane holding it back
It kind of rotates forward, up, and over the top of the wing
Only then to tumble it's way down to it's watery splashdown

At least in theory

I walked my way back to the cockpit
Where the captain was talking on the radio
Trying to arrange an emergency landing for us in Detroit

I told them what I'd seen

The flight engineer didn't believe me
As if I'd tell a joke at a time like this
But he came back a believer after looking himself

I got on the phone to maintenance control
And had to push past the same level of incredulity

"No, when I say we've lost #1 engine
I mean it's gone, it's not there, as in not to be seen!"

Somehow the captain convinced Air Traffic Control to let us land in Detroit
Which was closer to our maintenance base

I had nothing to do for a little while

I sat down in my seat and got out my beef dinner with the cherry pie
It was still warm

That cherry pie was the best I'd ever had

Sunday, September 23, 2012

Splashdown pt1

The night was clear and cold
I had the orange Halloween lights out
The decorated the stainless rails on the boat
Surrounding the seating area in a pumpkin colored glow

The Lake Michigan waves gently rocked the boat
A classic Chris Craft cabin cruiser
Lovingly named Armoise

I had two lines in the water
One on each side of the boat
Each with a few different kinds of bait on fixed jigs
A little worm here
A little minnow there
A veritable buffet for whatever fish happened along

It was vacation and I was relaxing
A heater at my feet
A favorite book on my lap
Though the rocking motion of the boat
And the sound of the soft waves
Was fast trying to put me to sleep

In the distance I could hear an airplane going overhead
A pretty regular occurrence
As this spot was on one of the main flight paths
Into and out of Chicago

I looked up and watched the pinpoints of light go by
That marked the jets place in the sky

I had just turned my attention back to my book
When I heard a strange sound
The sound of rushing air

Looking up
I saw a blur smash into the water
Only a boat length away on the port side
A plume of water exploding upwards
Illuminated by my holiday lights and the moon
Then raining down all over me and the boat

Now drenched
I went below for a towel and change of clothes
My sodden book laying on the deck next to my chair
The starboard side fishing pole playing out line
As a fish merrily ran with a late night snack

I stripped down and dried off
Swearing to myself about blue ice
And people who threw things out of airplanes

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Meal and a Show

Drip drop drippity drop
An accompanying rhythm greeting my ears
As the sun rises reflecting off the wet
All the wet from the night before

The bunnies race in their cage
From the upper to the lower
Up and down the wooden ramp
Knocking their water over as they go

The dogs watch the bunnies
Like a television show
Produced just for them in the backyard
A live boob tube without the glow

Puppy eyes following bunny run
Heads cocking in that strange way
Oh wait what's that they seem to think
Looks like bunny poop on the ground

Puppy popcorn for the bunny show
They're dogs after all
I shouldn't be surprised
But I am and I say so
Going down the back steps to say "No!"

Those puppy mouths that are munching bunny poo
Will soon be inside
And they'll forget
As I will too
They'll lick my face
Which is about when I'll remember
What I'd just now seen them do

"No no no! We don't eat rabbit poop!"

Friday, September 21, 2012

Dirty Boy

It was part of this realm of more sophisticated pleasures and manners
So I might as well get used to it

I sadly made my slow way home
Driving the ancient pickup truck
My beagle Daisy holding her head out the side window
Oblivious to anything that might be wrong

I kept the speed under forty
As when I went any faster
The rusted out rear fenders tended to flap in the wind
Making a mechanical pterodactyl flapping noise

Or so I was told by my children

That's all I could think

I was so very dirty compared to that lot
With their white gloved perfection
Their sweet smelling underarms
Mostly likely perfumed buttcracks as well

I laughed at that
Out loud too
Startling Daisy and making her bark
But I stopped suddenly

Surely that crowd of clean folk would even have some sort of acronym for doing that
Laughing out loud
I strained to think of it
But the exhaust fumes in the cab of the truck had already given me a headache
So I just spit out the window and turned down my street

My old sagging single wide trailer
The model with the marvelous bay window at the front end
Axles and wheels still installed
Though hidden by the skirting now

I stopped short in the driveway
Dust swirling around me
Daisy jumped from the window
Howling after something she'd seen in the bushes

I just stared at my home
And hung my head
Staring instead at my filthy pants
And the crusty front of my work shirt

So dirty
I was out of place here
I think it is time to hitch up the trailer and move on

Maybe to someplace new
Where 'dirty' is the new 'clean'

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Yo Momma Says Your Coding is Lousy

First impressions are everything
And nothing here impresses me
The flash content won't load
And all the Java is a joke
My antivirus program is pinging off the walls
The graphics are making my browser sad
In short I've come to the conclusion
That your coding is bad

I don't know who taught you
Some community college in Singapore
Or maybe you were taught via TRS-80
Learning only BASIC
But certainly nothing more

If I ignore my calendars and clocks
It feels like it's 1993
So basic is your layout
It looks like you're using BBS template number three

I think you should retire
To the basement in your mother's house
Where surely you still live
Maybe even with your spouse

I didn't say you were unlovable
I'll give you that much for sure
It's just your coding skills are lacking
And they'll only look worse in the future
You may even be a wizard between the sheets
Playing the Super NES with your wife
Engaging all manner of archaic cheats

Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A START

Does that even work anymore?

Or is it old and outmoded
Like all your website layouts
Hard on the eyes
With slow refresh rates
From dusty servers in Palo Alto
All screaming one simple fact

This web experience is the worst I've ever had

Even your mom says "The coding here is lousy"
To which I say "Where?"
As I prop myself up on an elbow in her bed
She points to it and sure enough it's right frickin' there

Wednesday, September 19, 2012


Down to my waist
Like a long busy tail for my face
It rests on the front of my robe
Adding stature
Adding grace
Makes me look like Gandalf
Or any other wizard of choice
In some circles I am quite revered
For the grand grey entrance
Provided by my beard

A pockmarked face looked back at me
My teenaged self in wrought agony
Fuzz on my fat chin
I stared and tried to will it to fill in
But it resisted my efforts for many years
Until one day I looked and I cheered
For there looking back at me
Was a bushy full adult beard

My wife is certainly my best friend
I could spend time with her without end
But that's not the reason I married her
I love our two kids
That we adopted from China
Little girl balls of happiness to be sure
And it's not that either of us were infertile
It's just that I'm not interested in performing that act
It's strange to admit and you may find it weird
But this lovely woman at my side for life
Is my best friend and full time beard

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Beetle Bronco

Do I look like a ten tonne beetle to you?
One that you can strap a saddle on
And ride around like a cowboy
While wearing beetle themed chaps
Centipede skin boots
With bowchucker spurs?

I don't appreciate being lassoed down
In an undignified position like this
With your knee in my thorax
Your thumb over my eye

Do you even know what you are doing?

You look like a tourist you know
With that cheesy red scarf bandana
Laying upon that ladybug rodeo shirt
It looks like you're wearing your pajamas

A rope around my head
That's the opposite of what I want
And no
I'm not thirsty
Stop dragging me over to the trough

Who's that reflected back at me there?

That's me
I guess you're right
I am a beetle

Carry on

Monday, September 17, 2012

A Parable of Not

First came the recognition
That the scaly hide beneath me was real
That it breathed
That it ate
That it shit
That it could bleed

Then did my eyes go outwards
Beholding the void
The emptiness all around
A depth so deep it warped my mind
Until I focused again upon what was in front of me
The Great Gilly Dragon to which I clung
As it was the only thing that was real

The monster tried to shake me off
Scraping agains unseen obstacles
Which I barely dodged
Some of which left their mark upon my flesh
Digging my fingers into it's hide
My toes gripping scale edges
My teeth bearing down upon what they could bite

And still the leathery lizard pursued it's path
Onward in the blackness
Always trying to shuck it's burden

Growing inventive in seeking my release
It swung long Gilly Dragon claws at me
Scratching at it's small parasite
And not as nimble anymore
It took chunks of flesh from me
It's tail whipping forward
Skewering me in place
Ripping out my heart
And all the love in the world

The hole in my chest sucked at the air
But still I clung to the beast

It cried out to me
"Why do you cling to me with such tenacity?
I've eaten your heart
You should not wish to go on"

Air sucks in through my mouth
And through my chest
As I yell back at it
"I will never let go
Though I feel hollow inside
There is nothing beyond you to go to"

Onward in the dark we plunge
The Great Gilly Dragon and I
It's parasitic camper
Towards some unknown destination

In the dark it wrenched it's head around to behold me
Biting at my hands and feet
Tearing all the fingers from my left hand
Leaving me with no feet at the ends of my legs

"Let go little man!
I've taken almost everything from you
Why would you wish to stay??"

Great Gilly Dragon eyes beheld me
As I groaned my reply

"I will not let go
As long as there is strength within me
You are my world
All else is nothing"

Stooping into a dive
The Great Gilly Dragon extended it's body
Long and straight

My remaining hand screamed at the effort to hold onto the scales it gripped

Holding on

Holding on

Until I couldn't

And letting go at last
Floating free of the beast
Now finally before me in all it's glory
Even as it thundered away from me

The Great Gilly Dragon left me behind
Seemingly hovering in the blankness

Until I was NOT

Sunday, September 16, 2012

A Tired Commercial Trope

Steve was driving the tug too fast
I could hear him coming before I saw him
The ultra low gearing making the engine scream at high rpm
Even though he was only going 20 mph

But that was far too fast for the airport ramp
Not to mention the sad state of that tug's brakes

I turned in time to see the nose of the tug dip sharply
As Steve slammed on the brakes
Jumping to the side to avoid scary Steve and his tug
I heard the front bumper hit something as it finally stopped
Just short of the aicraft landing gear

Scrambling to my feet
I could see the tire we had just changed
It was fifty yards away already
And rolling fast

So that's what Steve ran into

Running to the passenger side of the tug
I jumped into the seat
"Go you maniac!  We have to get that thing!"

Steve turned the wheel hard and squealed away from our area
Into the darkness
Into which the tire had already disappeared

Across two empty aicraft parking areas we went
At our max speed
Which didn't even come close to breaking any records

At the third spot we saw two mechanics
They were righting a tipped over toolbox
With a huge dent in it's back

"Did you see a tire come through?"
We yelled over the engine noise

They swore at us and pointed down the ramp
So we kept going
Through the dark airport maintenance area
Into the cargo loading spaces
Floodlights shining down on us

A jumble of boxes loomed large in view
Workers collecting their scattered collection
In military unison
Brown uniforms in precise motion

Two of the boxes were smashed flat
The remains of Hummel figurines on the concrete around them

All the brown uniforms heard us
And stood as one
As if to ward off another attack

"Did you see..."
We began
But before we finished
Five left arms raised together
Wordlessly pointing South
Down the ramp access road
Towards the dark perimeter

We sped off again
Desperate to catch up with our lost tire
Sending scree flying as we left the paved area
Onto the gravel two track that circled the airport
Just inside the fenceline

There were tell tale tracks in the dusty ground
Wherever the gravel was washed away
An aircraft tire pattern in the dirt
Four long bands of ribbed tread mark
Still heading South

Finally the fence and the road turned right
But the tire had obviously not
At the corner the treadmarks went straight
Straight into the fence
Straight through the fence

Steve slammed on the brakes
Sending dust whirling around us
We both jumped out and headed to the hole in the fence
Peering through it like inmates pondering escape
We made up our minds and jumped through

Clambering down the rocky ridge at that end of the airport
Music could be heard on the beach below
Firelight threw a glow through the narrow band of trees and scrub at the bottom
I looked at Steve and muttered something about liability

Steve flipped me off

Crashing though the trees to the beach
We stopped and stared

There was the tire
Lying on it's side
In front of a bonfire
At the end of it's roll
It's four ribbed tracks showing it's passage

There were two women sitting on it
Warming themselves and holding beers
Two men on the other side of the fire
Both playing guitars and singing

Looking up and down the beach there were other fires
Though none of them had tires
Each with a few people at them

One of the girls turned and saw us
"Oh hey, is this yours?
Cmon over and have a beer with us"

I looked at Steve
Steve looked at me

Suddenly this had turned into a strange beer commercial
And I had no idea how

Saturday, September 15, 2012

Freight Dog Blues Again

There were maggots in the fish cooler again
I could see them wriggling around
Down underneath the old spoiled crew lunches

So I found the drain hose in the cabinet and hooked it up
Running the green rubber snake down the ladder and out the entry door
Making for a foul smelling mini waterfall
Which slowly continued as I tilted the large cooler
Trying to get out as much moisture at I could
Dreading the hand cleaning process that was coming

Finally emptied of water
I closed the drain and unhooked the hose
Stowing it back in the cabinet
With it's open ends mated together
Containing the smell from perception

Which left me with the cooler
Now just a damp pile of food waste

I reflected while I cleaned it out into a trash bag
How I always hated the first few days of a rotation
When I took over from the former ride on mechanic

Granted, there were exceptions to this
As with following Harold
Who was a neatnick with probably OCD
He left everything neat as the proverbial pin
Nothing to do initially but review the paperwork

But most times were just like this
A day or two of cleaning up someone else's mess
Rearranging things to my liking
So I could be relatively happy for the next eighteen days or so
Riding around the world on this aluminum tube

Eight hours to Mumbai
I'm not the least bit tired
So a nap of any length is out of the question

I play with my phone after takeoff
But Plants v Zombies is only fun for so long
Slipping the phone into my pocket
I let the access ladder down
Which is sort of an aluminum version of an attic pull down
This lets me down onto the main cargo deck

Up in the nose of the plane
There sits the spare parts cabinet
It holds everything I might commonly need
Plus some special tools for various jobs

Every few weeks or so it all has to be inventoried
Just so everyone knows what is there
And what needs to be replaced

Funnily enough
Sometimes there are extra things there as well
Picked up from another company aircraft
Or a part that got sent but never used
And they all need to find their proper homes
Otherwise they go to waste

I pull up a crate and sit down in front of the large box
Pulling open the bottom drawer
And start sorting
Notating on my clipboard as I go
Rocking with the movement of the aircraft
Moving at six hundred miles per hour
At thirty three thousand feet

I think we are over the Mediterranean
But I don't even go look
Because after awhile it all looks the same

I hope something breaks so I have something to do
Then again I don't
Because things can get really complicated in a hurry

I'll just sort all these parts for now
In the chilly main cargo floor surrounded by pallets of cargo
With the freight dog blues once again

Friday, September 14, 2012

Honey Badger Just Don't Care

"You assume an awful lot, my friend"
Honey Badger Lawyer scratched the side of his muzzle
Whiskers quivering in itch pleasure

Legal Lion looked serious
"My pride does not want to grant that herd permission
And that's the end of story
If they come we will slaughter their old and young"

Honey Badger Lawyer knew when he was being intimidated
And he wanted to lash out at this so called Legal Lion
But he restrained himself
Attempting to be professional
An entire herd of oryx were counting on him
To negotiate safe passage in advance of their migration

Making a steeple of his small black clawed paws
Honey Badger Lawyer looked thoughtful

"Is it now? Is it really the end of our little story here?
Or perhaps there is more to tell after all?"
Reaching into a large legal folder in front of him
Honey Badger Lawyer pulls out some photographs
"I acquired these from the last National Geographic expedition
They may be of interest to you
Or more precisely
To a particular Alpha Male"

Sliding the photos across the table to Legal Lion
Honey Badger Lawyer took pleasure in seeing his rival's face
Shock and surprise
That his transgressions were recorded

Legal Lion sputtered
" unacceptable! You've gone to far this time!
Even you can't condone blackmail like this!"

Honey Badger Lawyer just looked at his opponent
Eyes half lidded as if he didn't have a care in the world
He let the Legal Lion fuss himself out
And let the following silence hang in the air for five long minutes
Finally breaking it with a statement
"So we have an agreement then?"

Legal Lion nodded slowly

Ten minutes later
Leaving with his legal folder
Holding signed documents of permission for his clients
He could feel the stare of angry resentment on his back
Legal Lion didn't approve of his tactics


Honey Badger Lawyer just didn't give a shit

Thursday, September 13, 2012

Envelope #1 and 2 - Stanley Goes to Vegas 5

Envelope #1


Thank you so much for consenting to be with me tonight
I won't ask anything too strange of you I hope
I'd like to start off by going to dinner at the hotel restaurant
Followed by some drinks at the bar
Then a return to my room
Where I would like to have sex with you
I don't want you to tell me you love me
I would just like you to act like you do
Like we have knowns each other for a long time
And are just getting reacquainted

Thank you

Envelope #2


I'm sure I've had a wonderful time with you
Now I'd like to ask a favor
Enclosed is an additional fee which I hope is enough
Please get up after you read this
Pretend you've just learned something horrible about me
I want you to hit me
I want you to spit on me
I want you to say the worst things you can think of to me
No holds barred
Then I want you to storm out

Thank you

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

The Afterglow - Stanley Goes to Vegas 4

Melinda sat up on the edge of the bed
Grabbing her silky slip in one hand
She walked nude across the room to the table
Slipping the garment over her head
She sat down

Envelope #2 sat on the table before her

She picked it up and opened it with her manicured nails
Looking inside
Poking in a finger to riffle the bills I had stacked next to the note
Pulling out the note
She scanned it with her eyes
Lids narrowing slightly
Lips pursing
She set the note down and turned her head
Facing me with intensity

Melinda remained like that for a full minute

The longest minute I can remember in recent memory

Then she stood up and started towards me
Rage showing on her face
Fists clenched
Back rigid

How could you?
You don't give a fuck about me
You and your fat fucking ass
Your little shitty cock"

I cowered from her as she swung at me with her fist
Striking me across my face
I felt my nose break
Pain exploded into my world
I couldn't see anything but white flashes

She grabbed my cock and balls with one hand
Pulling me towards her
I had no choice but to scrabble across the bed to her
She put her face close to mine
I could see her anger
So uncontrolled her eyes were watering

"I can't believe I let you put this shriveled thing inside me
I hope you don't think I actually came
Because there is"

She punctuated her words at that
With a sneer on her lips
Utter derision for me pouring out of her

I felt she was going to kill me

"You know why your wife left you?
It's because you're not a whole human being!!
You run from change
You are an utter coward
You spend your money like a fool
Your breath could knock a buzzard off a shit wagon
I can barely stand to be near you!"

She bent over and picked up my loafers
Which were over by her clothes
Bending her arm back
She winged first the left
Then the right
Directly at my head

One hit me square in the forehead
Splitting my skin open with the hard heel

I fell back on the bed
Clutching my wounded face

"Don't you dare get up you bastard
Good fucking bye!"

And with her clothes and the envelope in one hand
Melinda walked from the room with force

A woman I'd never forget

I made my painful way to my feet
And got over to the bathroom
Grabbing the room towels
Which felt like sandpaper on my open cuts
Despite being of the finest Egyptian cotton

Tears ran down my face
Mixing with the blood
Dripping to my chest
Down my obese belly
Onto the floor

This is about how it should be

I dropped the fancy towel
I tracked blood across the expensive rug
I opened my closet door

There was a chair inside
And a belt hanging from a high hook
I climbed up on the chair
Which creaked beneath my weight

Wrapping the belt around my neck
I fastened it securely
And told myself what an awful person I was
One last time

I kicked the chair out

Outside the room
In the empty hallway
Melinda the experienced call girl
Madame to her own flock of girls

Got dressed and wept

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

Dinner & Sex - Stanley Goes to Vegas 3

Dinner was wonderful
Melinda and I got along like old friends
She held my hand throughout dinner
I fed her strawberries and cream for dessert

We laughed as we drank fancy drinks in the bar
Telling tall tales of our lives to one another

We came back to the room giggling to one another
It tried twice to swipe my card
But the combination of laughter and drink
Caused me to drop my card
Finally Melinda had to pick it up and open the door

We tumbled into bed
Stripping the clothes off of one another
I cried a little when I saw her left breast
A surgical scar criss crossing it
With no nipple to match the right

She only kissed me
And told me to shut up and fuck her
As she expertly slipped a condom on me

I felt whole again when I was inside her
I looked at her
And she looked like someone I could be with
She didn't intimidate me
But she was still beautiful
In a very real way

Both her right and reconstructed left breast
Lolled off to the sides as we screwed
Giving me an excuse to kiss her chest in between
I got my rhythm going
And I could be wrong
But I think she came
Which made me come as well
Just thinking that she did

I collapsed on her gently
Nuzzling her neck
Just enjoying the feel of her beneath me
With me still inside her

I rolled off to her side
I held her hand and looked at her
Loving how she looked back at me
Her eyes sparkling
I wanted to fall asleep like that

I almost regretted.......

Melinda rolled slightly to her side
Looking over at the clock
It was ten minutes to eleven
She rolled back to face me
Kissing me again

"It's almost time for me to go"

I smiled at her
"I know
One more thing though
If you could go and open the second envelope"

Monday, September 10, 2012

Melinda - Stanley Goes to Vegas 2

Melinda knocked on my hotel room door
At precisely 8 pm

She was prompt
A professional
A madame of her own group of girls
She sometimes filled special requests personally
Mine was just such a request

There were two envelopes on the breakfast table
One clearly labeled as "#1"
The other as "#2"
Inside each one was a set of instructions
And a working woman's fee

I was dressed up
Wearing my best suit
Freshly pressed from the hotel service

With one last look in the mirror
I ran my hand through my hair lightly

I looked as good as I would get

Three steps to the door
And I opened it

And there stood Melinda
In all her perfect imperfection

She wore black high heels
Black stockings
A simple elegant dress
Showing a hint of a pooch at her belly
Which delighted me

Her auburn hair flowed down her back
Streaked here and there with grey
Her eyes were brown flecked with gold
And sported light crows feet at the corners
Her pert little nose
With a hint of freckles
Sitting above full lips

"You must be Stanley"
She said with a hint of gravel in her voice

I said I was

She stepped up to me and kissed me

"Nice to meet you"
She whispered in my ear as she finished

I offered her a chair and a drink
She took the first but not the second

I gave her envelope #1
Which she opened
Looking inside at the agreed upon money
And pulling out a short note I'd written
Only a paragraph or so

After scanning it with her eyes
She looked up at me

"Sounds good
Let's go"

And out the door we went
Hand in hand

Sunday, September 9, 2012

Beaten Down By Perfection - Stanley Goes To Vegas 1

I staggered back out to the limo
Away from the strip club
Loosening my dapper tie as I went
Sweat glistened on my face
It felt like I must be beet red
Like my face was about to explode
From the blood pressure rushing through it

My driver looked surprised to see me
But jumped out and opened the door for me

I slumped into the pillowed leather seat in back
Happy for the relief of the door closing
Hiding me in the tinted dimness

My driver hopped in the front
And turned to look at me through the pass through
"Wasn't this place to your liking?"

To my liking
What a loaded fucking question

The women were unbelievable
White skinned
Black skinned
Bronze skinned
All nationalities
Wasp waisted
Large breasted
Shaved to full bush
Perfect, every one of them

So very unbelievable

"Y-yes, I mean no"

He looks at me
I shut my eyes for a moment
Wiping my face with my hand
I tell him what I mean

"They were too much, too good
I couldn't bring myself to touch them
I could barely look at them"

Even thinking about seeing them
Made me wince
It had been like looking into the sun
In that surreal place

"Perhaps, if you could tell me what you are looking for
I could help. There are all kinds of places on the strip, and off it"

My driver was just trying to do his job
If I don't tell him
He won't know
And I know what I need

So I just tell him
Like I was ordering a pizza

"I want a middle aged call girl
Not perfect
Not someone who's had work done
Someone who looks like she's lived"

I hesitate a little

"A woman who looks like someone you've been married to for twenty years
And willing to do whatever I ask"

The driver looked thoughtful
Then arrived at a conclusion

"I know just the lady
Her name's Melinda"

Saturday, September 8, 2012

Muck Planet Harriet

Wading through the mindless muck
That nonetheless
Drags and draws
Unceasingly pulling downward

I suspect it would do so
Even in the absence of gravity
Floating in place
In the vacuum of space

It would coalesce into its own round ball
And drag at you
Towards its own center
Thereby defining its own "down"
Proving itself as wise as its mentor

I know what it would do
This sphere of mucky goo
It would break you down
It would use what's left of you

All tucked down and squashed at its epicenter

Broken down into ingredients
The building blocks of life
A moist atmosphere it would form
Single cell organisms sprouting in the warm

It's a planet
So what if it's smaller than Pluto
It's still a planet

A flag we shall give it
Allegiance we shall swear it
Oh mighty muck planet
I dub thee, not Tom, not Dick
But Harriet

All hail
Muck planet Harriet!

Friday, September 7, 2012

Uncircle Me

Uncircle me
Release the bonds that tether
Unbuckle those straps of leather
Point me to the door
Set me free

Uncircle those wagons Hoss
It does no good to hide
All the women and children in the middle
For the enemy's already inside

Uncircle the wrong answer
If you can and you have an eraser
Else it's all scribbles and crossouts for you
On this day of the big test

Uncircle the Oroboros
Yank that snake's tail from it's mouth
It's not a circle without end you know
It just his sanity that's gone south

Uncircle the wedding band
Let's make this thing open ended
Until death do us part you say?
How about just until we lose interest

Oh my
I fear I've offended!

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Rankin Bass Holiday Mishmash

My world is a stop motion mashup
A Rankin-Bass brainstorming session
Where clay is the outer shell
Boys have all the yucky boy stuff inside
Whereas the girls are filled with all things nice

I'm a New Year's Baby
Sucking my thumb
Half hidden in a top hat
Plotting the years events
On the office suite hidden inside
A touch screen interface
Hanging inside the hat
A useful feature for the twenty first century
A modern New Years Cowboy

Then on to Valentine's day
With Irontail and Mister Snow
Half on my mind
Singing "Be Mine Today"
With a bass note pitch
And a mellow red glow
Popping candy cinnamon hearts
Into my claymation mouth
I try to chew them up
But just smash my clay teeth flat
And get shot by Cupid
Right in the clay back

Oh right now
It's a dark green bowler perched on my head
A light green band around it
A shamrock front and center
Cocked jauntily for St Patrick's Day
This one's a little different
I'm a leprechaun
With an impossibly large stick
Chasing snakes from Ireland
With a small cauldron of gold
Clinking on my back
And there's a rainbow following me
I just can't get away
I swing at it with my stick
In a jerky stop motion way
My expression changing inexplicably as I move
Stray fingers inadvertently changing my mood
As the animation goes on

Now I'm a rabbit
Filling in for Peter Cottontail
Bouncing about
Balancing my basket in one paw
Hiding eggs and gifts
Without opposable thumbs
Which is easier said than done
And probably what much of the magic is used for

Morphing into Uncle Sam
I find I'm in a special that was never made
It never got past the censors
Though it was all stock in trade
Wearing a red white and blue flag suit
I march around the world
Grinding cultures under my patriotic boot
Blowing perfect round clay holes
In all my clay enemies
A King, a Kaiser, a Fuehrer
And an animated mustache
Hanging on a bar and sickle

Summer months
Hanging with Mister Sun
Getting a little melty
Watching my clay colors run

Then into Thanksgiving
And I'm a turkey
Throwing itself upon a spit
Surely a realistic claymation documentary
Eager to be eaten
I lost my leg in Nom
Eerily still away
Even as I lay on the model table
Fluttering my red flaps
Saying, "Eat me while I'm still warm!"

Christmas time
Without a Santa
As it is every year
I'm a nondescript reindeer
Standing off to the side
In the snow
Watching Rudolph do his yearly story
Picked over me in the end
Because he's deformed
And wrote to Make a Wish
"All I want to do is lead Santa's sleigh"
And the clay reindeer bitch of it is
He does it every reindeer year

Then all the clay is recycled
Donated to the local kindergarten
To be rolled around
Until I'm just a tie dyed mound
Of living thinking clay

I wonder what they'll make of me today?

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Waiting on the Aluminum Bitch

Tower personnel barked out orders
Requested status updates
Tracked tiny blips on their screens
Scanned the dark skies for lights
Anything out of place
Anything that wasn't where they wanted it
On the ground
Or hanging in space

Ground crews humped packages
Transported passengers
Delivered food
Marshaled aircraft and equipment into position
A veritable anthill of activity
Moving on marked paths
As distinct as real ants pheromone trails
Marked with lines, symbols, lights

People rushing around
Concentrating on their jobs
A hive of activity

And then there is me
Sitting in the ramp Jeep
My toolbox at my side
Cigarette in my lips
Eyes half lidded from lack of sleep
Knowing that I look like shit
And not caring overmuch

Glancing at my watch

You are fifteen minutes overdue
Due in at 1750 GMT
I got the radio call from Maintenance Control
Saying you had run into headwinds
So I'm not worried

I take a drag on the cigarette
Letting the ash tail dangle
And close my eyes
Oblivious to the hectic activity outside the cab of the Jeep

You land
Your silvery flanks wet with condensed crystallization
Icy fingers trace where your fuel still sits inside your wings
Like a frosty mug of beer at the bar
As I walk around you
I reach up my fingers
Tickling your underside
Dragging my nails across your lower wing skin
Piling up ice frost under my fingernails
Freezing my fingertips
As I scan your frame
For anything out of place

My hands reach out and grasp parts of you
Wiggling here
Tugging there
Looking for looseness that should not be
A rattle
A chafe
But you are perfect
As perfect as I'd wish you to be

No flat spots on your tires
Lights shining as they should
Systems checking A-OK
Fluids filled to the brim
You quiver with power
Ready for what's in store

Loaders slide pallets inside of you
Locking them in with mechanical sounds
Flight crew changing out
You'll be in new fresh hands

All too soon it's time to go
And you are pushed back by airport personnel
Engines flaring to life
Briefly bumping up in power
Just to get you rolling
You taxi out of sight
Around the far corner
Into the dark night

One of those roaring takeoffs in the next few minutes
That will be you
Flying on until you come back again
To be caught
To be touched
To be turned
Only to burn
Away once again

The radio crackles next to me on the seat of the Jeep
I snap my eyes open
My cigarette nothing by ashes now
And cold
Falling from my lips to my lap with a curse

You're on final approach
I hop out to welcome you
You sexy aluminum bitch

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Seal Play

In and out
Endlessly figure eighting
Around and through bone white supports
Nipping at red dangling flesh
Chasing one another
Barking in playfulness

Hide and seek
Hiding behind the heart
Or maybe the liver
Giggling behind a flipper
Covered in melting blubber

Sliding down the spine
Which makes a xylophone noise
As seal skinned bottom
Bounces down the chines

It's a Warner Brothers cartoon
It all started at noon
On the Saturday
Before last

Now half eaten and buried in the sand
Mostly bones, entrails and skin flaps
Are all that still stand
As monument to this great whale beast
Stranded upon the land

A seal herd has set up camp
Stamping their flippers in the sand
Barking their approval
At this unexpected playplace
A seal play palace
Playing as hard as they can

One sliding on slippery insides
Down the center of the carcass
A macabre slip and slide of glee

Another hanging from rib cage
Monkey bars for flippered feet
Hanging inches above the ground
Defying perceived seal-ness
Splashing about in this here whale mess

Then it was gone
On the second monday after the first
The dawn after a wailing storm

The seals came down from their sleeping place
Above the beach in the grass
To find their playground deserted
No equipment
Just a flat damp expanse

Without a hesitation
Without a barked quibble
They moved as one group
To the surf and beyond
Chasing the rumor
Of a washed up school of blue fin
Just like a pack of barking sea dogs
Hot on the scent of something new and stinky to roll in

Monday, September 3, 2012

Mathematician Seeks Your Satisfaction

Numbers and sequences
Always running through
Equations full of meaning
If x = y then it's true

Puttering in the basement
In a cafe drinking coffee
Running numbers in my head
Even when I'm with you

When I look at you
I feel love
That much = true
But it's a sort of different view

You are a riddle to be solved
Much like E=MC squared
When we make love
It's not just your body I want bared

I want to solve for your root
I want to propose a theorem
So I can work on you
For extended periods of time

At the whiteboard of your passion
Numbers and symbols a whirling dervish
As things build to a climax
And the solution becomes clearer

I reach that 'aha!' moment
And I look down at you
Some disappointment on your face
It appears I found the sum too quickly

Much to your happiness
I find other things upon you unresolved
So I go to work on them in different ways
Until all these smaller problems
Culminate in one vociferous "YES"

Uttered from your lips
As mine are busy
Reciting equations of love out loud
Pressed into your nether
Kissing you softly as a feather

Only climaxing
At a passing grade

Sunday, September 2, 2012


You've got your reasons
I'm sure you do
Or at least
That's what you tell yourself
That''s what I'd do

Convince yourself
And maybe others will believe
Stare into your navel
Understand yourself
Else you never will achieve

Toilets flush backwards
South of the equator
I believe that
As much as believe in you

Oh, you're physical enough
That much is true
The things you do
Those can be proven too

It's just your methods are distasteful
You suspected motives disgraceful
The results you achieve
Are therefore moot

By killing a million
To protect a billion
You only assure your fame
As one of the mass murderers of the game

Perhaps the greater good is preserved
Though your logic is perceived as absurd
I'll back your play
To a point

That point is reached
When I see your actual endgame
Which thusfar you've kept hidden from view
I may or may not approve all the same

So when I see
And you prove to me
Beyond a shadow of a doubt
You upon the end of my knife
Is all that there will be

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Night and Day Terrors

There's evil all around me

At night it takes a few different forms
For me
It lives under the bed
In unseen evilness
Reaching out with taloned appendage
To grasp at me at I get into
Or out of
The kingdom of bed

Sometimes it lives inside the closet
But only when the door is partially open
Just cracking the seal upon the terror
Seeping out of the darkened space
At just the right terrifying pace
To blanken my mind with fear

At all times
The form that any window takes after the sun goes down
The blackened eye
That only hours ago was a window upon the world
For me to see and be gladdened by the outside
Is now peering at me with ill intent
Watching my every move
Judging my every sigh

I resolve these issues not with a regular prescription
At least not one that I can get at the store
But simple instructions for living

A simple leap into
Or out of
The bed will control those feelings of being grabbed at

Closing the closet door
Will keep whatever is plotting my demise
Safely shut away and out of mind

Pulling those curtains closed
Will veil the horrible eye
And keep my movements hidden from it's view

During the day though
It got more complicated
For whatever I could see
Would be kept at bay
As long as I kept my blinks short
My eye rubbing to a minimum

Thus restricting the Weeping Angels movement
Or anything else that was plucking at my sanity
Keeping it in view
In this odd world of askew

For awhile I didn't know what to do
About things that were sneaking up on me
I knew they were there
My skin grew goosebump and prickles
My hackles rose up with frightful hair

I'd always spin around just in time
Giving my war face
Shouting a battlecry
Watching the enemy scatter in fear

But that gets old

I came upon a solution
To the sneaking up evil spirits
A backpiece done by a shaman
Riven upon my flesh
A prayer and ward of protection
Done in ink as a protective sketch

Whether under clothes
Or on full display
The graven image
Keeps evil at bay

Though mostly only from behind
So I'm thinking of getting more
So as to from all sides remind
The evil that stalks me day by day

That I know that it is there
I'm alert and always aware
So sayeth the roaring protective demon
In full dimensional color
Upon my back
Peering out of the fleshy gloom

Once my full body design is done
I'll be safe in the sun
On overcast days
And even into the night
One look at my body
And evil will run
As the image of me
Will inspire terror and fright

No more shutting closet doors
Pulling curtains tight
Leaping into bed
Cowering into the night
All will be as day
My fright naught but a vanished blight