Posted 4:21 PM by Alfred

A new world. A separate entity of be in it ism that is the health nutrition bar of life’s everlasting opportunities and loves lost & lives led and gathered apples of johnny’s happy dappy joy juice in the crack macksterpiece dogshit acre known as happy crapperville. In long beach. So yeah so like the jurk storr called and there was a bunch of random shit going on and then, um, they got all drunk wasted and talking shit and then there was like uncomfortable silence that wasn’t and then the jurk storr called again but it was funny cuz they’d actually been looking for mr. Furley’s secret identity aka pat mcgroin. In long beach.

So yeah so heebie greebie and the melting fleebies were all up in the heezie like with wheezie and skeezy and like these cowboy folks all with ridin horses up and down some plain and I think a few prairies if I’m not mistaken and then being led to the crystal cavern of captain caveman with clavicles all hangin off their mavlicles, like totally long beach style.

Ok so yeah tha jurk storr called and it was captain (kirk, this time)’s second communion of his aunt gertle’s cousin’s stepmother. And plus it was really hot out that day, with high wind advisories and shit like that, totally and completely, like in the house yet totally out of it and down with it put hopelessly over it. like as in getting all Morrissey or some shit like that in the scene, like pulling backyard haircuts and nuclear Armageddon paranoia schizophrenic castle building gangster type shit.

And then, if the jurk storr calls again, if they have the fucking nerve to phone my casa even one more time, well I don’t know whut I’d do, but you can surely bet that it would be ugly, my friends and neighbors, it would be shameful in its indecency to the degree that you would want to filet your trouser snake in afghanistanian earwig stew.

Sometimes it can be inspirational to see like this really mystical bird flying by across the sky and in backdrop like this picture perfect skyscape with like blue sky on the right and dark black well ok not black but dark dark gray clouds gathering on the left and like this white fluffy cloud in the center and just like these dogs yapping and calling in the distance and then the jurk storr calls and you realize it was all just a plastic lantern’s suntanned ass staring you in the face once again on the 30 yard line 10 yards to go.

So fukn rock that shit homey and do the goddamm muthafuckin safety dance up in that bitch and like fukn ride the snake and like like fukn kick the groin with pat mcsomething or other. And then when they think that you’re done, that the man’s finally got you down, just suck up the hugest fukn loogie you ever even thought of or heard of or even to the smallest degree fathomed in any way shape or form straight into your brain, and then you know, you really really know, that maybe the jurk storr did call about that afterall. Maybe they did.

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