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shortbusdegeneratestextfive
Smell my wrinkled zombie.
Drink my talons, tree child. Many trunks of trees store cannibalistic
desires. Nude gnomes tell of supernatural bowel movements, while the
cows are buzzing in the air. Cow-nipple smell penetrates the captian
of the fleet as the cows milk-bomb from the sky. The bovine seige has
begun. Oddly enough, police hernia is the state in which everyone has
been forced to live in. Pork rind is the sky, and the green sun and
tutti-frutti moon fight for control over the icee-way. Homeless are
we as our homes are being copulated with by giant toadstools that fall
from the sky. The time has come for my voice to be heard.
Introduction:
Hey, kids, are you ready for yet another fun-filled excitement-packed
issue of SBD? I know I am! And, being December, I decided to open up
the SBD baggie of goodies. I have many products available for your purchase
this year. Let's see here....
SBD GIFT CATALOG:
1)Not-so(micro)HARD Sex Box ($800.00) - This is the perfect gift for anyone
with a masturbator in the house. This is the latest game system, and you
have a wide selection of features to give a whirl this christmas season.
-hole in bottom of box with 1000 tiny feelers
-(new!) sucking vacuum
-YOUR OWN JOYSTICK is the joystick
also look for these games from the not-so(micro)HARD Softwarez corp...
Jenni, Ursela, Pippi, Bessie, Rachael, Candi, Pamela, Suki, Nikki,
Lollipop, and last but not least, Joe.
(update)the game "Lollipop" has been removed from the market due to
programming bug. She only works for five seconds, and then the game
ends.
(further update)Lettuce just bought the rights to "Joe," and has taken
the game off the market. Rumor has it, Lettuce plans to be the only
one with "Joe."
2)Afganistan and Taliban blow-up dolls ($100.00 each) - Every American
in his right mind says "Fuck Afganistan and the Taliban!" So, we have
decided to give you just that opportunity. Afganistan resembles the
country, and has numorous holes, in every place that we bombed them.
The Taliban doll is a facsimile of their moral code, with a hole
in every part that is offensive to Americans.
(update)Just in! Osama bin Ladin doll! Only hole is the ass. Now
anyone can fuck Osama up the ass! (Lettuce note:you know, that might
actually sell if someone were to manufacture it.)
3)Courtney Love, a Chainsaw, and Immunity (we'll pay YOU $1000.00) - Now
for this Christmas season... we know, you were wanting to get your
loved ones that Nirvana box set with all the many unreleased tracks,
but that slut COURTNEY LOVE fucking nixed that idea! So, for the box
set to ship by next christmas, why don't we kill her THIS christmas
season?! We at SBD will be singing, "Courtney Love Roasting on an Open
Fire," "She Died Upon a Midnight Clear," and of course... "Ding Dong,
the Wicked Bitch is Dead!"
(it's a fucking joke, don't take what I just said seriously... please!)
(Courtney Love is NOT worth going to jail over!!!)
Thank you for looking at our catalog... to order, send check or money order
to: Great Satan Enterprises
420 Yellow Snow Ave.
Cock, My Pants 00069
(please don't actually do that! i don't want to be accused of internet
fraud, just because you put your money where your mouth is. Oops, that
was in poor taste, wasn't it.)
Who lives in MY Pants/Money where your mouth is...
Tell me please, who is drowning in the vortex of tampex? My nose is upside
down on the battle field. Who is unzipping my pants tonight? Will they
move in? I hope they do. I have to wonder, who is pinching my brain?
I am in pain. Please just hold me for a while, tell me that I am loved.
I just need somebody, I can't stand the years of loneliness that I
have had to survive. No more, I say. No more mudshark mambos. No more
crack-rock pony-drops. I snort my daily recommended allowance of cocaine
every morning as part of my nutritional breakfast. I think I'll go
amputate my nose now.
(btw, cocaine is evil, and noone at SBD does it, and neither should you.
That's for real! That shit kills.)
Nourmel and the Pneumatic Roach Motel
Nourmel was a devotee of the nerf tundra. His usual occupation
was counting the sharks that bubbled out of the rubix cube. When he did
this, he would have to calculate the number of eons that made him relax.
He was quite immune to eons, so it usually took about eight, but in order
to get pleasure at his job, he would have to travel all eight eons,
sometimes just barely escaping the octagonian twilight that forced him to
be still. He made his shark quota too, so soon, he had been given a
promotion.
His new promotion was to monitor the almighty Pneumatic Roach
Motel. He would watch as the roaches would drive up in their minute
Bentleys and go to the numerous roach conventions that the motel held.
When the convention was well underway, Nourmel would activate the
pneumatic lowerer, thus causing the motel to be immersed in a vat of
MD 20/20. MD 20/20, being the only alcoholic beverage that was vile enough
to kill roaches, was always used for this job. Lightening Creek flavor
was the usual favorite.
Lightening Creek?
My question of the day: Why in the FUCK is it called Lightening Creek?
Isn't that name vile enough to keep even Winos away from that shit?
Ewwww! Double ewwww!
Harry Pothead and the Sorcerer's Stoned: part 3
Harry boarded the train, and went inside a passenger compartment
to sit down. Some chubby guy with long gray hair and a big beard came
over to the compartment that Harry was seated in. He looked as if years
of rocking and rolling, along with heavy drug abuse had aged him quicker
than was natural.
"Hey, could a nice stoner like you offer a nice stoner like
me a seat?" the man asked.
"Well, you look like you could use a rest too. What's your name?"
asked Harry.
"Jerry Garcia," the man replied.
"Holy shit, man, you're my hero!" exclaimed Harry. "I thought you
were dead, man. No pun intended."
"Well, it's like this," Jerry started. "You see, I was a musician
for many years. It was an interesting life, but being a man who enjoyed
drug exerimentation, kinda like yourself, I tried many drugs during my
career as a musician. Unlike you, though, I didn't stay with herb, and
the occasional halucinogens. I did good drugs, but I also did bad drugs.
It was the bad drugs, such as cocaine and heroin that almost killed me.
The rest of the Dead and I all agreed... it was time for me to get out
of the drug-filled music scene as soon as I could. We made plans to get me
into a rehab clinic as soon as I could. They helped my kill my addictions.
Then the band was able to fake my death, and I moved to Botax, Maryland.
I then became a firm believer in the powers of herb, and have been
dabbling in the mystic forces of trip-hop in the past couple of years.
A couple of months ago, a big hairy white dude who thought he was a
rastafarian came and invited me to this joint."
"Holy shit, I'm going to be classmates with Jerry Garcia! Kick
ass!" cried Harry in glee. A woman peeked her head into the passenger
compartment. She looked at Jerry and screamed.
"Fucking A, Jerry, I thought I wasn't going to see your ass ever
again! I just recently became too old to rock and roll too, and was
thinking about becoming a trip-hop artist, but now I am going to learn
the art of Bongizardry." she yelled in pure delight.
"Ummmm... ma'am, who are you?" Harry asked.
"Holy fuck! It's Harry Pothead, the coolest trip-hop artist
in the whole world. Do you have that scar that I heard about?" she asked.
"Oh yeah, let me show you." Harry lifted his hair out of the
way. On his forehead was a long scar. "This baby came one time at a
party. I was trying to light my bowl, but my lighter was out of fluid.
I asked around, and finally this dude handed me his lighter. I put the pipe
in my mouth, and lit the lighter. The flame had been set extremely high, and
it burnt my hair off over in this area. The hair gave my forehead
second degree burns in this area. Now I have a scar to remind myself to
never borrow lighters from crack smokers. Now, beeeeeeeeotch, you never
told me your name."
"Oh, shit, I'm sorry." the lady said. "It's Grace Slick. I'm a
first year student."
"So are we," said Harry and Jerry.
"Holy shit, maybe we'll make the honor ROLL. I'm looking forward
to sharing a dorm and a bong with you two," said Grace. "I think that we
should make a trip-hop album or two together during our time spent together.
I've got a feeling that this school is going to be of benefit for all of
us."
As they rode on and on, they talked more and more about the plans
as to how they were going to make use of their time at the Bongwart's
School. Soon, all three person's minds drifted to the green leafy
substance that had intrigued them over the many years. Harry then
decided that it would be a good idea to break out the trusted bong,
and give his new friends the true test of friendship. Harry packed the
bowl with his dank dank, and proceeded to light it.
"Hey, Harry, may we share with you?" asked Jerry and Grace.
"Sure, all you ever have to do is ask. You have passed the first
test of friendship. A true friend is going to ask before helping
theirselves to their friend's stash. Now, friends, let us start smoking."
They passed the bong between each other, sharing equally the
beauty of the herb. Each person exibited true respect of the bong and of
the herb that they were smoking. After a couple of bowls, the three were
thoroughly stoned. They just laid back in their seats and shared some
very special moments together. They all felt completely comfortable with
each other, and noone had any sense of paranoia or unease with each other.
It was at this moment that all three realized that they were had meant
to be brought together, and vowed to never do any wrong to each other.
Later, the train pulled up at the school. The instant Harry stepped
out of the train, he could smell an extremely familiar odor. He also
noticed that they had disembarked in a garden of sorts. Every plant in
the garden, though, was of the herbal variety. Harry instantly knew that
this was going to be a good year.
TO BE CONTINUED...
SBD SPOTLIGHT: Joseph Genaro
Ok, I was looking through some extremely old emails, and I found a story
that Joe had written for me a couple of years back. I had been constantly
bugging him for an artical for my CGA e-zine. I don't think that I ever
published it, though... it really wasn't something that would have fit
well in CGA. On the other hand... I think that it would be great in SBD.
Mostly a true story.
Date: Sun, 30 Jan 2000 21:35:30 -0500
Subject: CGA text file contribution
The Coat I Bought Twice
One late winter day my friend Dan and I decided to go up to New York City
to see some bands play. Dan drove. It wasn't terribly cold out, but I
brought along a coat just in case. Back then I had a long hound's tooth
overcoat that I liked. I got at a thrift shop for about 5 bucks. After we
saw the bands we wanted to see we decided to get something to eat in the
city before heading back home to Philadelphia. It was a little after 2 in
the morning, Saturday, but the city seemed wide awake. Dan found a
parking spot on a corner right in front of a pizza shop. We were only in
the shop for 15 minutes at the most. We scarfed our slices and sodas and
were anxious to get back on the road. But, would you believe it? In that
short time someone managed to break into Dan's car. The back passenger
side window was broken. And my overcoat was missing. (I never bothered
wearing it that night.) I was a bit pissed off, and so was Dan.
Whoever took my coat could not have gotten far. "Let's drive around the
block," said Dan. Well, we drove only halfway around the block. On the
sidewalk was a man who had some odds and ends laid out on the sidewalk
for sale -- some old records, a chair, a toaster oven, a camera, some
clothes... I got out of the car for a closer look and, yes, there was my
hound's tooth coat! "Hey, that's MY coat you're selling!"
"This coat? It costs ten dollars."
Ten dollars for my own coat? "You don't understand. It's my coat. It was
stolen from our car just a few minutes ago." Dan was double parked at the
corner. "See that car with the broken window? It was broken into and this
here coat was taken from it."
"Well," said the salesman, "I bought this coat from a man for $5. I did
not steal it. I'll sell it to you for $5."
So I paid five dollars for my coat and got back into the car. I felt
lucky and happy to have my coat back. Dan was not happy about the window.
But that's life. At least the car itself wasn't stolen. Then a thought
struck me that I had entirely forgotten. I checked the lining of my coat
and, yep, it was still there.
When I bought the coat the first time, there was a hole in one of the
pockets. I sewed up the hole, but only after I put a twenty dollar bill
through it -- emergency money hidden in the coat's lining. The thief
didn't even notice! Nor did the street vendor. How lucky could I get? I
decided this was an emergency of sorts. So I cut open the pocket and gave
the twenty to Dan to help pay for the broken window.
Conclusion:
Thank you for reading the latest issue of SBD. I truely hope that a
pleasant time was had by all. If that was not the case... darn. I hope
that the next issue is good too, but then again, I haven't written it
yet, so I guess that that is up in the air. Props to:
Joseph Genaro:Da Muthaphukin web designa... thanx fo everything, you rule.
Morpheus Zero:One cool mothafucka... yo ass needz to be writin' fo dis
sheeeeot, yo!
Mindless Self Indulgence:Major influence! So, when da fuck is Tight being
re-released, foo!
Ween:Anotha influence! Fuck, dat Live in Canada CD sold da fuck out even
before bein' pressed! Sheeeot, I was waitin' till my ass had some
fuckin' cash, but I guess I shall buy some crack wit dat dough now.
Satan:Go to hell, mothaphucka!
Micky's Malt Liquor:Yo, baby, where you been all my life, beeeeeeotch!
(and no, i generally do NOT talk or type like that.)
Adios,
Lettuce Head
(p.s. Tu chivo gusto la pinga de toro, y su gato gusto mucho pito en el
culo.)
(p.p.s. If you understood that, just disregard. If you didn't, ask your
spanish teacher what the fuck it means. Just pray that you don't get
kicked out for saying that.)
... Four whore, and seven queers ago, our forefathers had an orgy.
___ Blue Wave/QWK v2.12
