Your Ass is Grass and I'm the Lawnmower

by Cassandra Steiger

September 5, 2005

Your ass is grass
and I'm the lawnmower
You're slower
than Noah
with his Ark overflowin'

And I'm fast
like the gas
you passed
when you harassed
my nose last.

You've got mast ass
you butt pirate
I know you desire it
so don't pretend you're not fruity
like pebbles, you beauty

It's my duty
to inform you
I'm about to transform you
into a pile of pain
as you choke on the main vein

Do I need to explain?

I'm back, you fat bitch
I'm here to Lilo your Stitch
I'm your wicked witch
I'm on you like jock itch

You gonna have to change schools
if you wanna keep those jewels
fool
I'm cruel like Raoul
and I'll make you my coke mule

You don't remember
December?
When I waxed your ass last?
Billy Olsen, you daft
You stupid
That's the only thing
more powerful than the ugly you bring

I'm Cassandra, your nightmare
your pied piper ass-wiper
Riper than a diaper
in the Texas sun, punk
I'd grab you by the junk
and make you French-kiss a skunk
if I didn't like skunks so much.

You messed with the wrong girl
back when you took my lunch money
I didn't find that too funny
'til I made your nose runny

I'm the one, son
that gave you diarrhea so bad
when I took back what was mine
back went I went all Columbine

That's what I think of you
you belong in a zoo
living off the scraps that I threw

So happy birthday to you
you look like a monkey
and you smell like one too

You're a punk and a fag
and I was born on the rag
So give it up, princess
I want your lunch money
and I want it before recess
Son, this ain't funny
I'll snap you to pieces

So fork over that dollar
fork over your change
Don't make me do nasty-ass
damage to your brain
I want it now and I want it quickly
you're sickly
and I know the spot where you're tickly
so don't mess around
I ain't no clown.

Iâ€¦ Iâ€¦

I want some Cheetos, a'ight?

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.

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Phil Spector's Hair
Rising high like a psychedelic mushroom cloud so loud without a sound Holy Jesus, did you see Phil Spector's hair? Big like Canada Big like the sun Big like an idea whose time has come Phil Spector's hair is like a Zen koan Through which the wind... (6/6/05)