Double-Album Whippet Fantasia

I have feather hands. I caught the tools you threw. I have damaged muscle juice.

I call blood muscle juice. You act on malicious impulses. My weakness in my hands is fully crippling.

You win all fights. You work in the world with ferocity that blinds me. There is a heat in me that never subsides.

Goofy Faux-Symphonics

I have a friend who brags about his or her sexual kinks. He or she finds his or her vainglory to be greatly inflated when speaking about the spankings of his or her buttocks with orange paddles. His or her pulse audibly quickens when conversing casually about the eroticism inherent in the wearing of gauze upon his or her head. And sometimes I eat venison with my friend until the pleasure center of his or her brain is stimulated to the point of glossolalia, at which time I whisper the entire Book of Exodus into his or her ear. This is the only kink in which I participate; it is mostly a good reason to memorize a book of the Old Testament and eat a buck.

Barfy Growls

Steve and Isabelle know a way to create sheets of noodle clothing. Some of the output could be considered a patriotic act. In my robust imagination I see nose pads which allow a device to rest on your face.

I found very little record of partners in industry who can help make these voice commands swirl in wild ecstasy.

Outrageously Heavy Cocktail

Initiate and facilitate and produce and distribute trade familiarisations, business developments and opportunities, tactical trade campaign opportunities, and sales tours. Also kindly promote consumer show opportunities in the international media trade e-newsletter. You are not the pigmother.

Taut Alterna-Bashing

Something to say to a man whose presence you don't enjoy is "I will feed your corpse to starlings!" No one wants to be eaten by birds. Something has gone horrible wrong if birds are nourishing their energy-hogging bodies on your skin and muscle.

I knew one person who liked to mix her dead skin, dried blood, and hair with the bird food she gave to whatever birds frequented her yard. She was fond of knowing that the pieces of herself she discarded were borne away by various species of passerine birds. She failed to realize that the songbirds who consumed her materials were the sport of cruel accipiters.

Riff-Ravaging

The border of Mexico is different now. It's drawn with fluorescent ink. It's landscaped with thirsty flowers from Europe. I don't know flowers. But I know what it takes to make thirsty European varieties flourish on the Mexican border.

Indulging in Harsh Power-electronics Interludes

I like tea now, Dad. You always teased me about the tea I didn't drink. My negative attitude towards teabags was, how did you say? "Quaint." No father should call his only son "quaint." It's a fucking disaster to hear that. Well, I do drink tea, but I don't use teabags. I use this metal implement I bought at a garage sale in a cul-de-sac.

The next time I see you, you will note that I smell like the sort of thing that comes out of an ass hole. This time, I'm keeping my secret.