Monday, June 6, 2011


The shower curtain is making a name for itself as a serial killer,
especially with that sound it makes when it grabs and breaks
your neck – i.e. of a cello played with flipflops.

I wonder how many people know that circumcising a dildo
leaves you with a proper flamethrower.

In nature, the vulture comet passes over a Bunsen burner;
at sandwich petting zoos, feathers are bathed in totally different
inner-thigh friction. 
The Death Star is actually a kind of postal service, its blocks
set it place via the dedicated practice of stamp collecting –
its emissions dispatched and guided by massaging a periodic table.

Integral to doing the domestic chores: a bunch of metallic splinters
racing around a seashell. For this is Magneto's washing machine.

Even though it causes dinosaurs' eyebrows to itch, calling this blue,
rather typical household fungus 'Smurf residue' is considered bigoted
and immature.

Simone and I are not such forward-looking people, either.

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