Brushed Nickle Ass Plug

The wasp is exhausted, but steps softly onto my fingernail. Irritating in a temporary depression, and an ache hole opening in the plaster. The wasp will be there forever. I try not to take things, because of the tolerance I gain. It's better to build a counterfeit noun scaffold, to be believed by a doctor. To get pulled into pain.

Balsam Tree Disaster

I feel like a crow, no somewhat flexible creature in hock to the authorities. I have no title or case full of high fidelity video. Something that happened, you know, an apology to an abuser. Everything is sensible. It still happened.

It still has a quality, an availability. It doesn't resolve, I don't think, but it manifests as a sawdust smell or the memory of a trapped cat.

I'm Sippin the Paste

Over the glittered bridge, the musicians grovel before their therapists as their families observe from an undisclosed location — a fine situation meeting with broad public approval. As the musicians rise to their flogged feet and the halogen lamps broadcast their sturdy residue, a trickle of complaint necessitates haste. Orphaned, the troupe webs and knots until asphalt curls into exposed condolences.

Pierced in the Knuckle

Well, the snowman shits himself silly. Meanwhile, the playground chaperones wrap themselves in brand new netting. I wave, but my acquaintance is inside a swollen nose.

Where did foolish Brenda buy the grey tubes? If I find out, I'll have to spin a mint lamp holster. Crap.

The snowman screams elite swear words, the playground sinks in the sodden field.

Bubble Eagle Fork

Battletoads video game fans lie in their burlap hammocks strewn across the town park. This is where I've parked my white Honda car as I enjoy a bit of citrus flannel with a pricy friend.

Blown across the porch of the sky, the smiling moon sings a rotten little song about people leaving their least favorite theme park. Shot with stone marbles, the moon drinks wormy taco juice.

Presented by the insurance company, the art in the grand promenade trips a sensor. My wrinkles leak the warning. I've seen burglars crease the soil until the old halo ejaculates. This is my impression of the installation. 

Simplified for Nurturer

The diplomat's kiss transports me to the wagon showroom where blackberry hat salespersons console each other in the wake of the horrid deflation of the city memorial. I sneak to the office of the showroom manager to steal one of those lacy little mints shaped like the Eiffel Tower.

When the procession begins, freezing glue weeps from the cracks in the walls. The dry nerves reach up from the butter tanks, gripping the ankles of the blackberry hat people; they stumble and go red-legged and powdered — like a very rich weave of spotted nut rind.

Tan Mug

Cramped raisins in the tub, Mr. Flavor kicks the giant caterpillar in the soft saddle region until the dull beast bulges into good humour. Sinfully, the great lumber columns of the championship arena quiver in the steam.

The poor groaning larva flattens to the cobbles of the arena substrate, highly decorative for the tarts in the mainstream hose box. Those fine luscious sturdy ladies fan themselves with mango pyramid sides, triangle fragrant breeze drifting from the lattice to the dead wig worm crying below.

Orange Memo

Make the shoe, chucked with thick coin syrup and sticky spoon creme. Don't want it lumpy, a scrambled wet element in the left hand and a devil's tee shirt in the right (oily and laughing). It's not half happening.

The crammed hard body is the seedless business. Puree the salt and mix with a chilled tube: floured like one's roommate, but not clapping like clamped yogurt.

Tastes good. Terrible flat piss trampling my biography. Lingual twitching as I dip the timepiece into peas.

Alone with Cranberry Dad

Triangle carriage has floated to the cake tree zone where clouds spike flesh masks in the square. A rubber hot flake of a pasta toy falls from the mistress's map tube. That is when the rope man twinkles into the market of oils. The mistress, loaded with globe's jelly and humming grid film, rakes her hands across the mask of the man before it can be sublimated.

Fritters in the Dark

At dusk, the slim gross teen boy takes a jacket from his nephew. The jacket is patched together with varied denim, stapled strips of even older jackets. There are like eighty or ninety jackets in the mix. Blueberry wood spikes in the breast pocket, a photo of a mousy dog in the inside pocket along with a piece of hickory gum. Now alone, our teen with his jacket spies an abandoned canoe in the parking lot and paints himself like a hyssop flower.

Gilded in the Maze

The house shaped like a fiddle smells like frozen egg yolks. The flower pots have faces painted on them. Miniature statuary, vulgar, bought from an estate sale, lurks in the foliage. Puddles on the walk blink with lonesome heat. The Realtor ® speaks with a cockney accent when he's making his wisecracks, and while I'm not yet seduced, I am waxing my fingertips. I am slipping discs of paper in the gap between the wall and the shabby wainscoting.

2021...

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and finally, a festive 359

A Caper During a War

Hundreds of years pass and the best PI in town falls prey to a crazed prince, who seeks to control the king’s supposed enemy. Unfortunately, the only one who is not cultivated to illuminate a troubled ambition has been dismissed as a vibrant possibility. The academy becomes a place of great cheer and tranquility. Soon, well-known characters from history’s most famous fables, nursery rhymes and fairy tales are assigned a recon mission beyond the wall of their nation.

Fool's Exodus

The war between humans and the President of the United States is over.

After uncovering a dominated stoic, Dr. Bryce finds himself labeled as a grand lead actor in a comedy. He is left with no choice but to flee to failures, many of which begin as mythical familiarity. Here, he must undergo serious moments to uncover the meaning behind the birthplace of a dark Communist sense of humor and aid a group of adventurers in taking a stand against every triumph in life.

To him, existence was a supernatural evil. For someone who considers himself a nobody, he was staring at me in the mirror.

White Whistle

Once upon a time the un-Christlike Christians trusted survivalists and a black Republican business professor. The professor, rejected by his mother, is in the clutches of a black liberal journalism professor. Recently, however, a series of hilariously tumultuous kidnappings have begun to improve his intellect.

After a misunderstanding on an airplane, they quarrel about promoting creative writing. There follows a satisfying mercy. As he himself admits, “I’m a controversial sports columnist and would like to be tackled."

Old Vampire Daughter

When the elderly ghost hunter hires the local vampires to search for a missing fairy, troubling memories and emotions invade the ceremony being performed by the police. His investigations into out-of-body experiences and the 60's generation merge with those of some witches. And they think the friendly mystery writer is controlling citizens of Seattle who simply won't die.

Something is killing the detective. Based in Chicago, the spirits point to one of the ageless witches and remember the Emerald City.

Color-blind Seawater

A private detective never lies, never cheats, and never commands an old woman who volunteers at the public library to draw near to the throne of a dead girl. The entity waits to recover the twenty million dollars her only husband placed inside an ancient Egyptian Coptic, inscribed box. She knows she saw a blue howling lawyer.

Once metamorphosed, she holds the damnation, surrounding the mystical box and spinning before God.

Covetous Roar

During a long overdue vacation, a nymphomaniacal psychic and a rich actress devise a plan to exchange an anonymous mother with a world-class female outlaw, ultimately becoming unflinchingly erotic. Perhaps most intriguing of all, a successful businesswoman with a very special gift who is neither gilded angel nor flawlessly analytical whore turns a phrase as effortlessly as a loving husband rescues a freelance writer from a burning orphanage.

Vampire Log

When you’re Santa Claus, unimaginable cowboy pugs give you doom. An event transpires to transform a Colorado cowboy into a small television filled with the cold virus.

A mysterious visitor holds the mementos, creating pictures of creatures in a small southern country town and various TV commercials.

What lies ahead for Santa Claus my husband Richard is a couple of thrills. Will they survive the fight against the "real" Santa? Will they find some of the people my daughter made into vanishing treasure?

Satin Legends

Martin Stone, given the name Santa Claus, is programmed to kill the man at beauty pageant. But will he reach the White House in time to form a band and come up with the name for the band?

Some musicians and singers will trap the zombies in the cabin. Please enjoy the secret weapons planted in the signal.

Kris Nicholas Kringle attended two years of college and made some astonishing rock and roll. Because of his childhood adventures on a camping trip, grabbing a brilliant blue crystal, Santa Claus was given a car.