Eno Redrum

    Be knowledgable, that in this life, things are bound to happen where someone you love is hurt, bothered, violated, scorched, abandoned, put in torment or offed.

       Do not dwell on fists except to knead bread. If you need to shout… drive way the hell out and make a lament song to the stars

No Belt

        Why does one have to wear a belt? Because it LOOKS NICE? Stop and tell HR it poses an imminent suicide risk to you and have a lawyer.

       Bill Gates got rid of the tie. #### the belt, too.

       Need to hold your pants up? Have your secretary help. No. By getting a stapler. Yes, in the 50s that would be funny. What would? Never mind.

      Seriously, put your hands in your pockets if your pants come off. Happens to me all the time. I… am too sexy. So I never hold the door open. I use windows. I take my pants off, climb thru, put them back on. I have a book for that. No, I don’t.

Sorry I Killed You In My Story Right Here, But You Did It Yourself. Why?

    How brave are you, you fine son of a bench in a park? Are you bold enough to shave with an ax? No, no- not your face. THIS IS BOYS ONLY. If you are a girl… you are peeping! Bad, tsk tsk.

     Hey manly Major Mike & Sgt. Peeper- c’mon over for the ultimate challenge! Break out your SEAL team SIX air gear and jump into a pool naked. The water is
-540°K generated by a KJ823 Tomohawk replosionary device. I just made that up. What happens? Shut up. No it is a pool of horny elderly woman. Its 30 to 1. Were you TRAINED FOR THIS??? No.

      Hey Riunite On Ice Male figure skater! Nothing says “Man Do” better than women’s ruffley poot on your Serbian hairy white chest! Talk about gay olympics in Moscow! No! It makes you MANLIER to wear Madea’s brothel bra and dance in circley poo wahs.

     Just kidding.

    Hey. Do you know what REALLY hurts? Being autistic and hitting a curb on your bike and you…

         whoop…

       …bam.

          Land on your perineum, nuts aside thank gosh almighty and you crack your inner urethra and pee blood later. Yes. Both calipers broke. I was… he… he was 13. An had ass burgers but not for lunch. All the time. Wincing in pain as his puberty told me… okay… it was me… screw it… my puberty told me I injured a sacred doorama put hueyy!! Yay!!!

One time I stopped a fan.
It was plastic.

In 6th grade a kid kicked my no-no and I actually got lift off. One time my brother LITERALLY KICKED my ass. And again, I had lift off.

Do you know the worst way a person could kill themself is?
Alone.
Aww.
No really, the worst way is to draw a map of your body, get 13 chainsaws, live blow torches and the whole stupid gizmo blows up leaving you a little burned and hand cuffed to a wall with an 800 day supply of IV fluid that you have no way of removing so all you do is wait 78 days going insane, thouroughly hydrated watching your favorite teletubby show. You are sick. Why did you do it? You don’t know.

We will miss you. Sorry I killed you in my story.

Dopplanders

     “The two people

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Singularly, the uniple is the Halbefleische consciousness according to Herr Doktor Ub. That is right. Doktor Ub. A short name. Do not laugh.

   Dr. Ub discovered that there was a very nasty but scientificly DELISHIOUS experiment carried out on the town of Two Pikes, in Southern Nuncaland. As you may know, the town of Two Pikes has beautiful forests and an abundance of lumber and is the chief producer of toothpicks for the entire woodland and bourough grassyfield and pink yellow flower-laiden dogs not spayed or goobered yellow picket fenced happy dale… well- the Whole Treetoppin’* Continent of Dugg. On Planet Pooterun.

* treetoppin’ is an irreverrent rough referrence to the previous ancient destruction of planet Pooterun. By the blesséd Socilitar Khan, whose reign over the hashfires and even the land of Deceptadeth last forever. Nok nok.

Lo, where was I? Hi. I am back.

On planet Pooteran the binary mystery is unfissuring itself in a pool right NOW. And all the time. The president of Tipperdoo gets high on noober-doo every dang day and then gets on TV. What does he say? Its a lie… no, true…

(The secret is that each has TWO. It is, on Planet Pooteron, a solid fact… solid as a penny caught in the gears of a marshbutter machine.. that each has
TWO…

        The warmwibblerdip predicted that Horace the horribler from the world of black and blue ghosts would introduce a horror to the Rom and the Rim of a man so as never to be equaled in the projects evil again. The Rim and the Rom would be made into ONE.

        Was that the primus delight? A juicy morsel of achievement?

        Or somehow would the Khan succeed in the becoming- is this the ranting of an Irth-borne? YES. Hahah.

       Within myself are the two of the Rim and the Rom, and while mostly one is gone, the other is heavy and lead.

      Into the skies hope,
lest the battle in your own
mirror break you- each unit has sides. Two.”

     And the Earth man disappeared as he spoke,
his clothes- a pair of Wranglers and a yak bolo and a red shirt, white leather jacket and a purple baseball cao and the drink he was sippin, the cigar… all went up into smoke. And there was a pile.

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Out of the pile of the man’s ashes was a Punibblet.

I said “hi” to the Punibblet.

He said,

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“Bite me!!”

And he ran laughing.
So, I

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   grabbed him. I bit his head.
And instantly everything that he had ever known was downloaded. Like all that crap I just wrote but ITS TRUE!! There is a Universe, and Masters in it and a big hero and trees on other people’s planets! Woosh. Well, I didn’t hurt him. The Puhnibbler.
He is the de-incarnation of his planet’s version of Moses, only in THEIR desert they were there… forever and a day… so I suppose that is “Hell and change”! Woo! Cannot beat that with a stick.

        But you can acquirre a fine alien tooth pick.For a Two Pikes tooth pick… I will sell three to help buy soccer balls for the Congo soccer team. We all know they are just dying for some recreation… just send 3000 men and women in the next 3 days who have €30,000 taped to their legs- have them be CIA and KJB qualified, age 20 to 28 and quietly assassinate the 3000 people in power that the 20 million would most hate… the 20M that are rotted dead.

       And that is how I think star heroes should work. An astronaut does not have to leave the ground to shoot the moon. As a human being my brain and occular attention have a responsiblity to think about what is on the net. That “VOTE” of thought, I call pray-ing. My vote is against the proud and praying. Its called HARVEST. Not killing. Thats why I say use the GOOD cutlery. A Spetsnats sharpened silver butterknife on a Congolord. Let out the boysenberry. Find another. Repeat.

        The toothpicks are real. Don’t poke youself with them.

Limmeavanudabiski Man

     In Limmeavanudabiski, East Dakota… there was a man from there who grew up with a right ass cheek so big in a party balloon shape… …that when he went to church, he took up the WHOLE pew and ten cats who chased his half ass to church attended too. But cats are evil so they just dressed nice and fit in. No one knew they were cats.

     One day, they made a cat the new preacher! He silently accepted with his GOLD knife eyes and wicked scruffy coat. And he got to the pulpit… and he said… and he SAID… AND he SAID.. .. .

HE just pretended to pray for one hour, the bastard did. And so everybody else just sat and prayed on their knees and sweated…

Slop House In Hell

     Walcome to me restrant!

Ahoy matey! We have anuthah viktim!! Arrr!!!

Come right this way…
Please watch your step- that is a dead cat…
And that body THERE is the OWNER to the cat (or was) and now by law HES MINE.

I am Jacktain Pappshire… I will be your murdering waiter.

You don hafta have THAT cat.
We let a few out at midnight. Heres a hammer. Kill your own.

Or… order off the kids menu.
The lobster with hollandaise and asparagus is really good. So is the seasoned beef with steamed carrots in a honey basil glaze.

Here is a shovel for YOU sir… a pick ax for YOU m’lady- oh you are wearing a lovely frangrance! What IS it?
Ahhh. Of course “doggie gut squeeze”… permeates as it rots. Thank you folks for not taking a BATH. We so appreciate it.

Now get ready… try not to kill your neighbor or loved ones!- it is 9pm and we are releasing…………… ………… ………… ……… ……… a “unicorn”! Aw thats just a decorative ‘orse… THREE POINTS to the Highlander with a wooden hammer! Damn those Vikings are fast! Oh a seizure.. crimminey, someone please OFF it.

Whoop! Wenches sliding in the blood. OH!! SHIITAKE!!! Lemmington Lumps swept the guillotine on wheels into the room too SOON. WE gots a head o’ wench an unicorn duo for DINNER! Thats 700 pence. Takers?

Fat man with blood on ye face and no shirt!- YOU are CUT OFF. For five minutes.

You will have eternity here in Hell Number 8… to EAT away!
Yay!

(Happy harpsichord on fire music as headless monkeys walk into the room dressed like schoolboys…)

Strangely Reassurring

     Wendy was laying in bed like the 100 pound slug she was. Just kidding. She was a pretty brunette. There. With pouty lips and glitter from a silly project and whatever.

     Her dad always came by her door and said…

Love you goodnight.

So one night he thought he would switch it up a bit.

He came in and shouted,
“I don’t love you, here is a KNIFE!”

Wendy just froze.
So sad. It triggered catatonia they said.

Then a year later
She did net a response
By admiting she was faking it
And everyone said they were too. The end.

F***ed Up Places

    I made a down-payment on a cult membership. I just wanted a place to breathe. At the Yonandola Reservation.
To tell you the truth, I was forced to check it out at gun.point by a guy in the family who moved in to my father-in-law’s and for $20 he got to be SIL. For real. I call him Chunky soup. He is a cook.

Some guy named ‘Alan’ was

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operating a back ho. Then laying down the “wisdom shards”. Who does this shit?

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“Relarbor” was started by the Jets in 1789 in the Phillipinnes and has a chapter in Puerto Rico and Nunavut. Relarbor encourages: reality, Arbor day, religion, and living on top of the previous generation if not to only produce ONE single tear from guilt (libboo lei laszhlum), blesséd crystals be NOT INCARCERATED in my tear ducts, for lo hence wingity doo dad… amen.

      Please visit. Gate is open to visitors, extremely friendly 3 days out of the damn year.

   To “pyramidicly place” the caskets of the graduating class of 2013 strawberry gatorade chugging contest.

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And a deck for “nearly-naked”  observation. Wilbur takes your pants or skirt so you can feel the “ass-biting” CHILL of the Yonandola Valley breeze as it whaps and paddies your buttock skin to goose pimples.

   What a virtual paradise of overcast cultic joy and fun. Don’t worry. Those caskets will be buried.