The Visitors

by Eli Snaubertzen

December 10, 2001

Snooty bugle-playing burglars
Why do you bother me?
Go to hell, you naked buglers
Cease your melody.

Who invited uncooked hamhocks
All these pigs I see?
Go away, freeloading pork pies
Get out my Christmas tree.

Get out Santa, get out Elvis
Get out Sandra Dee.
I don't recall inviting anyone
To share my ginger tea.

Mister Walrus, Miss November
Tell me did you see
A sign hung from my door that said
"Please come and bother me"?

Were my windows not shut tightly?
Did my door not lock?
Was the hint too vague and subtle,
When I threw that rock?

Go on, get out! Every last shrew!
Every last motorcycle cop!
And I will surely lose my patience
Unless those bongos stop!

Clear out my house! Get out the door!
Leave my city block!
Don't come back here even if
You forgot your sock!

No more mastiffs, no more lawyers,
No more mimes or cows
No more microbes selling Amway
Leave and I mean Now!

What now? What's that?
No, my pills ran out.
Goodness, you're right, call the doctor!
Thank you, Mr Trout.

Milestones

1750: Antonio Salieri, second-rate composer and eternal inspiration to the commune. His alleged murder of Mozart, as portrayed in Amadeus, forever encourages us in our war with Crochet! magazine.

Now Hiring

Stepchild. Just sit around and eat and drink me out of house and home without ever raising a finger. Hey, I'm talking to you, you little shit. There ain't no law says I got to be nice to you just 'cause I'm knocking boots with your mom.

Top 5 commune Features This Week

1.	Shit for Brains: The United Negro College Fund's Worst Fundraiser Ever
2.	Classic Rock, or Beethoven's 10th Symphony, "Stairway to Heaven"
3.	Flattering "Big Dick" Bosco
4.	We Can Win a War on Terrorism and Other Favorite Folk Tales
5.	Butter or Margarine: America's Favorite Sweat Smell

Distraction
Fifteen phantom penpoints All under my control I move them deftly, swiftly smearing ink upon a single slice of paper. Sixteen sweatered titties Distracting me so simply from my fifteen phantom penpoints Nothing worthwhile written, once... (11/26/01)

Shuns
Who has been flushing your worldly possessions? Replacing your wardrobe with out-of-date fashions? Making your schnauzer do Nixon impressions? Squeezing your neighbors for seedy confessions? Coating your lips with pre-cancerious lesions? ... (11/12/01)

The Waistland
April be the month that's meaner Than a shot of carburetor cleaner Or an icy, uncooked wiener Said the raven: "Ned's a Whore". "Ain't my lookout," said the genie, in a voice so tiny, teeny Ned thought it a baby, beanie And burned down the... (10/29/01)