The Raccoon Killer

by Violet Tiara

November 24, 2003

On golden gilded lapis lazuli
the gnome was homely, old and plain.
Byzantine tattoos on his brain
made him think the world insane.

"Lichens liken to Vicodin dreamsâ€¦
rolled oats, old goats, matriarchs."
A Chicano girl named Rosa Parks
mumbled something in the dark.

"I am the Duke of lukewarm duke,"
he tried the title on for size.
Mercury tears welled up in his eyes,
round and hot like blueberry pies.

"I am the size of the simpleton skies?"
he ventured a stab at identity.
A raccoon laughed down from a tree
remembering something he saw on TV.

"It is no use, I have no use,
I'm decidedly uninteresting."
Bees flew by, to sting something
more interesting than he.

The sun went down like a hooker on a clown
and the night gave the gnome no relief.
He sat in the dark with his lack of a spark
as the raccoon teased "Where's the beef?"

And the morning was the same as the frogs called his name
and the dragonflies dragged things about.
The crickets sang a song and the raccoon hummed along
as the gnome thumbed all of his nose hairs in doubt.

By the noontime it was bright as the land was drenched in light
but in darkness the gnome sat darkly in despair
The raccoon said while yawning the gnome held no hope of spawning
"And by the way you are losing your hair."

Something snapped and in the shock the gnome bent and picked a rock
which with a mighty flinging fling he flung it.
And when all was done and said the raccoon was stone dead
before the gnome had really realized he'd done it.

Seeing the raccoon lying stiff though did not cause a tear of whiff
inside the gnome who rather felt quite cheery.
For he'd found it, don't you see? Finally found a thing to be.
"Raccoon Killer? Now that doesn't sound so dreary!"

Milestones

2003: The infamous "Battle of the Bulge" breaks out at when office wench Ivana Folger-Balzac mistakes Ramrod Hurley's beerbelly for a birthing alien larvae and sets into the Acting-Editor with a can opener. The skirmish and resultant standoff lasts 18 hours and claims the lives of several Crochet! magazine staffers, for whom the commune observes a moment of near-silence.

Now Hiring

Sexecutioner. Why does everybody keep laughing when we say that? We need a dude who can kill some fucking people in an official capacity, okay? What's so funny about that? You guys are sick. Anyway, pay commensurate to experience. Must provide own mask, axe, electric chair, whatever floats your boat.

Top Nonsensical Curses

1.	Motherbumper Fannyfuck
2.	Shitwheeler
3.	Short-Handled Ass Tank
4.	Mop-Handle Michelangelo
5.	PelÃ©!

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