this is the action

over water under bridge

"Mum's The Word, Asshole!"

I was in the basement, wrapped in ancient cloth for four days when it occurred to me The Mummy might not let me go. Sure, he called it a kidnapping from the get go. So I guess I can respect him for being a man of his word. And sure, I had it coming -- I did sell his sordid secrets to the tabloids.

But who could pass up such sensational headlines? There it was, in black and white, with a color photo: THE MUMMY CAUGHT ON TAPE!! WHAT A SHOCKER!! GUESS WHO'S PREGNANT!! MUMMY SNAGGED IN SANDWICH SCANDAL!!

Plus I made a cool $50, which is a lot of money made in very little time. And if you believe money is time, as I do, then it's a win-win, assuming you don't care about the consequences of your actions on others.

And I guess we've all been guilty of, in our lonelier moments, doing that to a sandwich. I just happened to tip off Weekly World News of this particular preserved corpse's acts against nature and breadkind. But there he was, in his pumps and earrings, and there I was, walking to the bank. It was unrelated to the $50 I made; I was meeting a friend of mine who I later remembered no longer worked there. So I guess, in retrospect, The Mummy should have considered us even with the time I wasted waiting for Barry to get off work. But he didn't see things that way.

No, he didn't see things my way at all. So I found myself, for four and a half days, living The Mummy's way. My stomach was sucking up against my spine because I haven't eaten in 108 hours. I tried swallowing my saliva, but it wasn't very filling or satisfying. It was time for me to face facts. I was going to die. And I wouldn't be preserved like my scorned friend The Mummy.

And I guess, as I write this account in my makeshift journal -- my bareback as paper and my toenails as pen, and of course my bodily fluids as ink -- I hope you, dear reader, will heed my warning. If you sell the secrets of undead or differently abled, they will hunt you down. Or at least they will if you call to tell them you liked what they were doing with that sandwich and safety cone near Conception Point Beach. They'll almost always have Caller ID. The undead and differently abled don't bother wasting money on groceries, so they usually spend their excess riches on consumer electronics.

Still, I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

As my lungs were expelling their final breath, I couldn't believe my eyes.

Suddenly, my good friend Dracula burst through the door, and began beating The Mummy mercilessly.

"How dare you do this to my dear friend!" Dracula said between savage punches.

“Dracula, you came for me!” I gasped!

“Of course, you’re my best friend in the whole world and…hang on.”

Then Dracula started dousing the scarabs escaping from The Mummy’s cloth holes in tangy barbecue sauce. He chucked them into my mouth after cradling them on the Ronco grill he seemingly always carries along with him. I used to tease him about it, but damned if those scarabs weren’t the tastiest things I’d ever eaten. Or maybe it had something to do with the severe starvation I’d been subjected to. Plus I’d been vomiting blood and losing hair pretty steadily for the past long Memorial Day weekend.

Then, as Dracula was about to deal the final death blow, choking The Mummy with his own cloth, he shouted, “Mum’s the word, asshole!”

Later that night Dracula made me spaghetti and we watched expensive Pay Per View movies on his large screen TV.

Not less than more but now at least absolutely whenever not never but sometime soon more or less

This Hot Pocket has a certain faded elegance

Where did the pirate have go after causing the argument? Anchor management! Hahahaha-hah-ha-haha-ha

Try me

I just found out my life was a mistake but I lived it anyway.

My reasons were strictly blurred but the logic was clear.

Someone turned my house into a bridge and I just made do.

But this much I know.

I don't know much.

I hope you don't mind the pillow and blanket. The last time you spoke, I lost consciousness and broke my nose on the table.

Great Caesar's Oohrids!

It's usually done easily or with no thought at all

coatrack doubles as sitar, phoning it in doubles as still counts

Make sure you say good night it's important

Where ever you are, know the culture's stunted
In a petri dish, go down for seconds
You
You know what you are
But that could always change
Didn't you count on that?
Someday faraway came and gone while you were in the living room
So
Live it up
While you still can
The updates are great
But only call to say goodbye
So
Goodbye
And have a nice life
Better than how I left it
Please
How did I leave it
Confused, right?
No, better.
But I'm afraid of whatever it used to be
What is it now?

Something here is about to explode

Believe in that conveyer
Belt around your torso
It leads up to your neck
Don't gag on the reflex

I pushed my luck right out the front door. It was running out on me.

My head bled in stereo
Will you stick around
Well, I don't know
We got our wires crossed
Tired of fighting for a cause that's lost
And found
And lost
And found
Now
I'm going to find that missing spark
No more taking cheap shots in the dark
No more bathing in the moonlight
I need a damn towel
Calling all cars
Can you give me a ride
I said I swallowed my pride through my muffled throat
I-I-I-I-I- plead the fifth
And Gi-i-i-i---ive me...some money...

My sense of humor is so sick it's in the hospital
Please visit it and give it flowers and give it chocolates but don't fatten it up and don't make it allergic because it's pretty sick
I said my face
Don't
Look
Right
I said I lit my lungs on fire
Behind some smoky voices I got the hell out of there
I was tired of counting the woodgrain under my eyes
Because
Pardon the expression

Deserted Island Notes, Excerpts

A short note to the Deserted Island I recently left:

Hey Dude,

Sorry I've been AWOL for so long. Well, you know how these things are. It really was just time. I grew a long beard and contracted dysentery while in your company. Plus, I brought along my favorite book, CD, and movie, which, I knew we had some good times enjoying together. I don't need to tell you how many times I wish I had brought my glasses, boombox, and DVD player, though. Good times.

Plus, remember when I tore my clothing to pieces in a fit of madness brought on by a diet of nothing but raw turtles? Turns out there's a reason the tortoise beats the hare. Yeah, my doctor, Dr. Wilk, says that turtle sacrificed many of his reptilian comrades in an orgiastic feast for the bunny rabbit to eat. So, I won't be running any races lately. Speaking of hares, I hope you know how to read a letter written completely in human hair.

Hmmh. What else. Oh yeah. Remember when I fell into a pit of despair so deep that I set out to sea in a homemade coffin? Remember the coconut coffin? Well, after seven years of construction, it turns out that a sea-faring vessel made out of fruit isn't very buoyant. Well, by that point I was out of swimming reach of the island, which is pretty moot since I don't know how to swim.

I can understand your feelings are hurt, being left behind, but why did you not send for help? Weren't you wondering what happened to me? And to think of all the times I held your hair while you vomited, drunk on a tropical highball. I know they didn't taste very great, and sure it was mixed in a blender that only had one speed, and sure, those blades were really turtle teeth, but at least I tried. What'd you do? I mean, you're a deserted island...And I love you for that, I always will...

Really, I will. I mean, I'm writing this letter, aren't I? All I'm saying is, "X" marks the spot. And "X" is where I buried my love. I hope you find that shovel you kept whispering about. Oh yeah, my love is right under that corpse of the captain who ate the map. I mean who puts a map on oyster crackers? I love oyster crackers...

Signed,

Joel Derringer

simple question for a simple answer

I got a suicide packed in my tooth
And a sleeping bag hanging from inside my eyes
That inchworm crawling up my white T-shirt doesn't care
Much for me
I'd flick him off but nature kicked my ass twice yesterday
It's got my number
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 Yes 9
Bring me mine
And you'll get yours
But I'll share
My shadow puppets from heaven

OBVIOUSLY

I can wait you out like a hunger strike
But then what
My stomach would squeeze up against my spine like a tail between my legs
I'd be hungry and it'd get me no where
Malnourished
Maybe I'll set myself on fire instead
But I never go to any dinner parties anyway
So I'll just go hungry instead

Untitled #601

Thing I should probably apologize for but won't:

1. Posting "Have you seen my god?" flyers all over town
2. The previous item, but hanging said flyers without accurate contact information (I left my phone number and e-mail address off, due to a "printer's error."
3. Swatting at the neon buzzing flies that are always overhead
4. Listing the order of meals in a day as such:

a. Breakfast
b. Lunch
c. Dinner
d. Dessert
e. Midnight Snack
f. 5AM Feeding
g. 6:30 AM Feeding Frenzy
h. 6:50 AM Slop Bucket Bonanza
i. 6:55 AM Lobster Bib Change of the Guard

5. Pointing out to people when they're trying too hard
6. Laughing at your haikus (the ones you didn't intend to be funny)
7. Acting all like I want to use the Metric system (I don't.)
8. Coining the phrase "smokestack sausages"
9. Making pointless lists

mgmg g g gd

again, mgmg g g gd

Milestones are meaningless but nice to track. [Post #600]

I swore I cut myself shaving on Ockham's Razor but it didn't seem simple enough.

Murphy's Law totally fucked up my morning when I slept in the freeway.

Oh, right.

So, this is the 600th drawing. Probably, I hit this milestone a few days ago. But I know it's the 600th post. Anyone who cares to can count them up, but I wouldn't recommend it. Congratulations might be in order as well, but I wouldn't recommend those either.

I know some of you are out there, in the shadows, reading, looking, wondering. But some of you have expressed an interest in paying me for merchandise relating to this, whatever this is. I will make an effort to satisfy that demand in the very near future. What is it you people want? Write and let me know. Otherwise you'll just have to make do with whatever awesome thing I cook up to romance your wallets.

Many of you, and I don't really know who you are or how many, and that's fine, continue to read. And I am appreciative. I'll keep this brief. No one likes a windbag, and neither do I.

There's also some different projects coming up in the relative near future, and I'll post about those with the usual barrage of bullshit you see on here.

And now, without further ado, back to the bullshit.

Signed,
Me.

P.S. I heard Bat Boy uses a technique he calls inversion therapy -- in which he hangs upside-down in his cave -- to help maintain his weight.