The blank tiles on the jaw are "H" and "B." 7 points! (Submitted for the E-Hobo.com project -- #790: Voweltooth Jenkins, the Man with the Scrabble Tile Dentures)
Part of the 100 new Hobo names
It used to be cloak and dagger. Now I'm naked and defenseless.
Topping the shitlist today:
1) Plastic rakes. They do nothing but scrape the asphalt, significantly reducing property value and ear drum resilency. Also, people in the near proximity will be unable to eavsedrop on conversations, especially if they are whispered. They will also be inaudible even if the contents of the discourse is later revealed to be: "Peas and carrots. Peas and carrots." Etc.
His "bark" is worse than his "bite." He does not bite, that is a "typo."
(Submitted for the E-Hobo.com project -- #403: Eldred Splinters)
He has much to teach us.
(Submitted for the E-Hobo.com project -- #767: Dr. Know)
Part of the 100 new Hobo names
Ode To A Piece of Dandruff I Saw In the Shower: I MISS YOU
◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊◊
the movers and the shakers
the givers and the takers
always pushing you aside
you say you don't mind
and yet talk about it all the time
like doing what you want is a crime
well go inside
keep a closed mind
i'm a very busy man
i don't have much time
or money
in fact i'm running out of both
if you want a little growth
gotta shed a little skin
to do anything
you have to begin
Sometime later the house was sufficiently clean and she headed indoors. It's safer there. No freon poisoning, no male posturing. Just a house and a home. A humble abode. A place to hang your hat.
So she headed indoors and trekked to the couch. A plaid and flannel affair. Though it had four legs, it wouldn't be walking down the red carpet anytime soon. Maybe it would be dragged over one if she moved, but she was here for now.
And she went indoors. And she sat. On the couch.
"Stop me if I'm going too fast" One brick said to another.
She sat and with bated breath eavsedropped on a pair of bickering bricks in her flat.
"It's not that you're going too fast" The brick countered. "It's that you're an idiot. You don't know what you're talking about."
"Well, maybe it's that you're not listening. You haven't said anything."
"Maybe I just prefer to suffer fools in silence."
"Well, you're the fool."
"At least I'm not making myself look stupid, talking about such things. You don't know anything. You've stayed in this house all your life. You don't know your roots. You don't have any plans. No goals. You just spend your whole life in line, where you're supposed to be."
"Shut up with your rabble rousing shit, would you?" This was a surly brick, indeed. But no one likes to be made to feel four inches tall, even if that is their proper size.
"I haven't said a word at all, which was what caused all this fuss in the first place."
"Well, that's just like you. Never saying anything at all. Living in your head."
"Maybe there's a better world in there." This brick probably kept a journal.
"Well, it's too big for your head." This brick probably preferred toilet paper folded under, not over.
She had such a headache from listening to bricks argue, so she headed into the kitchen to take some Tylenol and probably make a piece of toast.
Then the toaster farted.
They totally have it coming.
(Submitted for the E-Hobo.com project -- #697: Smokehouse "Frankie" Jowl-Poker)
This is roughly drawing #300, if you were wondering. To celebrate, here is a look back at an old friend.
[Please click images for full sized adventures, nature lovers]
Also, here is a poem:
I'd rather be casper than richie rich
but the day-white smell always rips my dreams away
i wish i ate that sandwich
yeah i'd rather be casper than richie rich
i grab a twinkie and begin to play
but the day-white smell always rips my dreams away
i got nothin too original to say
sometimes i just wanna eat a sandwich!
spam, spam you don't taste that bland
litigiously, she danced to the music of an unseen polka band
Lint Nickel = Legal Tender ≠ Tasty
(Submitted for the E-Hobo.com project -- #298: The Treasurer)
The future is in corrugated transport. Also a french loaf propellor helps in a pinch.
(Submitted for the E-Hobo.com project -- #550: Douglas, the Future of Hoboing)
Sweet life, sweet sorrow.
(Submitted for the E-Hobo.com project -- #26: Tearbaby Hannity Stoop)
And that would mean the tub is full of...what?
(Submitted for the E-Hobo.com project -- #33: Sweet Daddy Champagne)
Not of this earth, yet in the earth. Perhaps natures cruelest trick.
(Submitted for the E-Hobo.com project -- #563: Lowly Highley)
There's a whole bunch to love.
(Submitted for the E-Hobo.com project -- #220: Honey Bunches of Donald)
"What do crickets eat?"
(Submitted for the E-Hobo.com project -- #276: Cricket-Eating Charles Digges)
Nobody likes the coconut.
(Submitted for the E-Hobo.com project -- #280: Whitman Sampler)
The surgery went fine. It was a little more complicated than expected, and I am back in the cave recovering. Relearning to walk (now without a cane) and am wearing a bodybrace.
Also, I'm playing some video games these days.
Repeated Drawings In Due Time.
Keep Peace.
P.S. Marx Bros. Are Not Pigs.
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