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09/13/25   
Like a game of Lonely, Lonely Hippos

Peace Frog

by Laurence Trundle Lawrence
bio/email
November 15, 2004
There's blood in the streets,
there's meat on these sheets.
What am I, sleeping with a butcher?

Napping on crazy wax paper
wrapped in crap vapors
dreaming of walking on gongs
past a sleeping pitbull.

Goddamn is this song loud
carpeting the air
like a plumber who woke up
and forgot what his goddamned job was
and just started carpeting everything.
Crazy fuck.

Chicago's overrated.
I once dated a girl from Chicago
and she wasn't that great.

Birds swoop down
like marionettes on a string
in some kind of puppet show
about birds or something.

Blood stains the palm trees
like a toilet brush
from a bloody toilet.
Jesus, how did that happen??
Yuck.

There's a trash can
full of homosexual Easter candies
if you're interested.
What if there were a holiday
called Homosexual Easter?
Would you take the day off work?
Or would you just show up anyway
and work so nobody thought you were queer?
That s a tough one.

I once rode a boat
through a river of sadness.

Man did that suck.

But I wrote a haiku on the ride:

I once kissed an overweight Eskimo
Don't ask, it's nobody you would know
She smelled kind of crappy
and she looked sort of Jappy
come to think of it, what kind of chick is named Elmo?

Shit, that's not a haiku, it s a limerick.

Gotta remember: the Japs eat the fish, the Irish drink like fish.

Christ, it's still raining blood out there.
What a perfect day to call in sick.

I wonder if I could still get paid if I say it's Homosexual Easter?


Quote of the Day
“I have not yet begun to fight! When I have begun, it will look quite different. Fists will be flying about, and you will hear a high-pitched whistling sort of sound that will actually be a scream. In fact—I'll make a little hand gesture to let you know. When you see that, that will let you know I'm fighting.”

-John Paul Jones Ringo
Fortune 500 Cookie
Love is a relative term, but even that nugget won't save your ass if you pork your cousin. Stay away from salty snacks this week, even if it means tunneling underground. Try wearing your watch on the other arm—maybe that's your problem. This week's lucky names: Alexia. Ephyn. Scatman. Toolio.


Try again later.
What Was That Guy Screaming?
1.Four fewer years! Four fewer years!
2."Don't Worry, Be Happy" Bobby McFerrin, 1988
3.I think I'd notice if my hearing aid battery had died, you crusty old bitch!
4.Rectum? I nearly destroyed his anus!
5.I have difficulty modulating my voice!
Archives
Dromediary
Long and hairy luminaries hang from the sky and dangle scary fingers downward in repose just itching to twitch and pick my nose. Prescient crescents— the cartoon moons fill the sky to seven deep with beauty to cause my golden weep as I... (10/18/04)

Ray Manatino's Half-Remembered Classics
Jack Sprat could eat no fat but his wife was a big fat bitch. Shit could she eat, she ate all my beets and my pickled pig's feets. Next week poker's at your house, Jack. The itsy, bitsy, spider crawled up the water spout. I almost fucking died,... (9/20/04)

Whistlepig
Loud and sweet, the howling of the whistlepig erects my nipples like sails taut in the wind. Sailfish taught me to win by cheating at cards, like a cardinal at charms or an oriole with arms. Whistlepig, whistlepig, let me in, caught by... (8/23/04)

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