more writings

time marches on

he got in his car to go where he had planned on going, but when he got there he realised that he had not yet arrived and would not be there for another two hours. he telephoned his friends to let them know that he was going to be late. they told him that, in that case, they were going to start the party without him, so that the banana fish would not get cold.
he waited at the gate to the friends' driveway for his arrival. he greeted himself and let his friends know that he was there. until he got accustomed to the different time zone his friends thought that they were seeing double. his name was and is ralph.
when ralph got to the main house where the party was being held his friends had several televisions on with the volume turned all the way down and were dancing to the music of the bald frogs. they were having the party to celebrate the day before yesterday which was the day after the day following.
at half past a quarter 'til dessert was served, an irish coffee cake with which they drank french coffee.
the party ended several hours later when the steam engine stopped running.
ralph decided to spend the night at frankie's so that he would not have to deal with jet lag afain so soon.
when they got to frankie's apartment they did what they did which is what they did.


title

he lovingly took his head in his hand
he wiped the tears from his cheek
he told him to clear his mind of all dark thoughts
and he squeezed his skull until his brain oozed from his ears


9:32

the beginning was followed by the middle and the end came later. as a result the pages were stuck together, so mr. hampton was unable to find the secret formula he needed to return the pope's naughty bits to their original papal size. half of the western hemisphere converted to atheism overnight.
7/30/91


a slice-of-pie short story

the room was accessible only to those fluent is sanskrit sign language. its interior was decorated by picasso's mother-in-law's pet sheep. a dove who got all her jewelry at tiffany's was the room's sole occupant for many centuries until a bald vacuum salesman who was talking to himself in sanskrit sign language stumbled into the room while wandering through the desert. he was unable to leave the room since he knew nothing about sartre. unhappy with the lack of originality the pen went on strike.

Warning: There is more to come.