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Subject: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/16/05 at 10:33 pm

THE FARCE SIDE
http://photo.ringo.com/195/195581955O724004456.jpg
The Farce Side cartoons 1-75
The Farce Side cartoons 75-150
IMAGES
http://photo.ringo.com/40/40984240O692254551.jpg

Album Parodies
Booyah!
Cannot Find Server
InsanE Magazine
Movie Poster Parodies
Nib Oswald T-Shirt Designs
Uncle Oswald answers your hate fan mail
Untitled Compilation Album

RAP/POETRY
http://photo.ringo.com/163/163493912O749314439.jpg
A Bright Room Called Day
Afraid To Fall
All A Joke
Bear Cage
Blood On The Carpet And In The Closet
Broken Dreams
Creeping Butterfly
Cry For Me Again
Dark Round Eyes
Dead Of The Dawn
Eyelids Of Satan
Far From The Tree
Fire With Fire
Fork In The Road
Heart Of Darkness
Ice Maiden
I'm Calling
Infront Of The World Centrefold
Insatiable Curiosity
Kosovo
Language Of God
Lone Wolf
Love Life
Loyal To The Game
Melting Winter
Minds Are Like Parachutes
Narcissus And Echo
Omelas
One Love
Paradox
Porcelain Corpse
Reap The Wind
Red Scar On The Back
Reflection
Screaming Cymbals
Seppuku
Stages Of Grief
Take A Life And Get One Free
The Fourth Horseman
The Future Of The World
The House Of Mirrors
Tongue
Try To Avoid It USA
Vampire
Where Art Thou, Songbird?
Whipping Boy
Your Numbers Are Up


COMEDY
http://photo.ringo.com/168/168408127O272307298.jpg
'...'
1 In 6.4 Billion
A Boring Song
A Cross Tick
A Girl Who's Six Feet Tall
A Kuna Lambada
A Manager's Thong (The Anagram Song)
A Man Of Impeccable Taste
Albino
Appendix Sex
Beautiful
Bible Bash You
Bitch
Bubbles Has Gone To Hell
Capitalism For Christmas
Caveat Emptor
Chemo Bobby
Chicken
Christmas For Us In The Povvo Part Of Town
Coprophage
Corpus Delectable
Crush
C**t
Duet For One
Emo Kid
English Speaking Country My Ass
Farce Side Of The Moon
Folk
FUEL
Genetically Modified: Part I
Gotta Give Your Seat Up
Halitosis
Happy Easter
Hentai Schoolgirl Fetish
Homophobe
Hum Off Hone
I Hate Remixes
I Hate You
I Suck At Poetry
If You're Quadriplegic And You Know It Clap Your Hands
I'm Gonna Get Some Tampons
I'm Learning To Read Braille
I'm Screwing You For Your Conversation
Let's All Get Pierced
Little Miss Jailbait
Limerick
Lukewarm Lovin'
Mail Order Wedding
Male Breast Cancer
Manual Abstinence
Mobile Tone
Monotremes
Mr 'Don't Walk' Man
Musings
My Fully Sick Solar-Powered Car
My Special Girl
Narcotic Enemas
Nothing Rhymes With Orange
Nothin' Suss
Ode To Nadia Comaneci
Old Bat Out Of Hell
One Of Those Sappy Songs
Pyromania
Play With Me, Chemistry!
Pun Issuer
Quarter-Life Crisis
QWERTYUIOP
Relations With Relations
Rrr!
Song Has Been Deleted By The Artist MP3
SPAM
Suicidal
Tastes Like Chicken
The 8th Wonder
The Capital Of Zimbabwe
The Derriere Words
The Hobo Of Beverly Hills
Things I Like To Smell
Thpeech Imp-p-pediment
Turquamarine
Ugly
Un-PC
Virgin 2.0
Wabo
What A Wonderful Day
What Is It That's Up With This Song?
What's In A Name?
When I Die
When The Turd Strikes Back
Whiteboy
White Man's Burden
Writer's Block
You're My Drug

RAP
http://photo.ringo.com/174/174847162O489026780.jpg
Cranky Whitey
Duck For Cover
Freestyle Disses
Hairy Potted Freestyle
Jack The Ripper
LLL #1
LLL #2
LLL #3
LLL #4
LLL #5
LLL #6
LLL #7
Looong Wanksta Freestyle
Nib Oswald Freestlye Disses
Nightmare
Pump This Diction
Random Battles
Sheep Freestyle
Step Up, Sista
Strip It, Girl
TAS Freestyle


WRITINGS
http://photo.ringo.com/154/154685906O651440766.jpg
Philanderer's Stein Excerpts
Changer of Sequins Chapters 1-4
Changer of Sequins Chapters 5-8
Changer of Sequins Chapters 9-13
Changer of Sequins Chapters 14-16
Changer of Sequins Chapters 17-18
Prismer of Afghaniztan Chapters 1-3
Prismer of Afghaniztan Chapters 4-5
Prismer of Afghaniztan Chapters 6-8
Prismer of Afghaniztan Chapters 9-11
Prismer of Afghaniztan Chapters 12-14
Prismer of Afghaniztan Chapters 15-16
Fat Spastic Beets part 1
Fat Spastic Beets part 2
Oddly Shaped Head Man part 1
Oddly Shaped Head Man part 2
Oddly Shaped Head Man part 3
Oddly Shaped Head Man part 4

<3 Scene 1 (script)
Apocalypse (script)
Blue
Eggshells (script)
Flea-ing The Country
Nothing To Lose
The (Ded) Manifesto
The Best Video On The Internet EVER

MISCELLANEOUS STORAGE
http://photo.ringo.com/118/118202564O383311312.jpg
100-word Personal Ad
A Fvnny Thing Happened On The Way ... The Forvm
Bridge To Terabithia
BLONDEGiRL914 Stole My Dakota Fanning Video
Bright Room Called Day Rap Up
Dramac Comedy Revue 2006 Act I Part 1
Dramac Comedy Revue 2006 Act I Part 2
Dramac Comedy Revue 2006 Act II Part 1
Dramac Comedy Revue 2006 Act II Part 2
Earth's Checkup
English Extension Major Work: Contents
English Extension Major Work: Commandment I
English Extension Major Work: Commandment II
English Extension Major Work: Commandment III
English Extension Major Work: Commandment IV
English Extension Major Work: Commandment V
English Extension Major Work: Commandment VI
English Extension Major Work: Commandment VII
English Extension Major Work: Commandment VIII
English Extension Major Work: Commandment IX-X
Happy Birthday Lucy
Happy 21st & 18th, Nadia And Jenna
Happy 21st Birthday Tony
I So Don't Have A Crush On Geri
Larry Pothead
NGA Summer Scholarship 2004
Nib Oswald's #000000001 Fan
Nib's Internet Guesstimation Quiz
'Philadelphia Cheese' Alex's 18th Birthday Rap Roast
R&J Wrap-Up Rap
Soccerball Philosophy
The Australian Spirit
The Barmymale School Mulletin 2004
The Interview
T.M.I
Triplets
Weather Report for Squeeze


SONG PARODY
http://www.popmatters.com/music/concerts/y/images/yankovic-weird-al-030703.jpg

Jake A Ralphing's oeuvre

Brat-to-ni
Break Up
Britney's Baby Loves To Dine MP3
Defend From Aliens Here
Downloading Young Gals
Drop It Like It's Fat MP3
Drunken Binge
Geri's Gone To Perth
Gopher
Harlot Juliet
Incest
It's The Old Doc's Knife For Us
Mum
My Lump
My Schooling
Preschool Work
Save Africa!
Shorty Is A Midget
Smoking
The Gay I Am
The Patrick Magee Birthday Medley
The Punner's Song
The Real Slim Ladies MP3

The Shaven
Uncomic And Lame

http://photo.ringo.com/97/97802531O142491684.jpg
*Contains personal in-jokes and insults
*Contains moderate content
*Contains strong content
All written work and accredited artwork (c) 2005-2007 Luke Brattoni www.myspace.com/lukebrattoni

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/16/05 at 10:55 pm

DELETED

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/16/05 at 10:58 pm

NOTHING RHYMES WITH ORANGE

http://nagpurcity.net/nrcc/oranges.jpg

There are some groovy words that rhyme,
Like 'serpentine' with 'turpentine'.
But then there's one I've heard declines
And spurns all rhyme... it's ORANGE!

There's tore tinge and poor pinch,
And floor flinch and ore inch,
And lore lynch and store cinch,
And claw clinch and four finch.

Hey, hey, hey, hey!
Hey, hey! Nothing rhymes with orange!
Hey, hey, hey, hey!
Hey, hey! Nothing rhymes with orange!

There's boar binge and raw twinge,
And fore fringe and whore hinge,
And core cringe and spore singe,
And your tinge and syringe.

But none of these impinge or infringe,
On this slimy and rhymeless grinch!
Do I have to whine, repine or whinge?
Yeah, nothing rhymes... with orange!

Hey, hey, hey, hey!
Hey, hey! Nothing rhymes with orange!
Hey, hey, hey, hey!
Hey, hey! Nothing rhymes with orange!

*cough*
Man, can you pass me a lozenge?

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/16/05 at 10:59 pm

WARNING: Mild sexual references. Content may offend.

MALE BREAST CANCER:

http://www.sachsreport.com/aphex%20intelligent%20dance%20mus.jpg

I saw the doctor for a routine checkup.
He said that something was wrong with me.
What was the answer?
Male breast cancer?
Well, how the hell could that be?!

Oh, I don't even have mammaries!
Oh, the other men will laugh at me!
Oh, at my breast chemotherapy!
Oh, male breast cancer is lame!
Oh, they'll find it really humorous!
Oh, that my nipples are tumorous!
Oh, these stupid carcinoma-breasts!
Oh, male breast cancer is lame!

My tits: carcinogenic!
I feel so darn pathetic!
I can't live with the shame,
darn, male breast cancer is lame!

This sickness is ridiculous!
I would prefer testicular!
You'd think I was a dame,
darn, male breast cancer is lame!

Na na na na na
It started off malignant,
Na na na na na
But now it's in remission,
Na na na na na
I have a second chance!
Na na na na na
I've learned a painful lesson,
Na na na na na
And it has made me question,
Na na na na na
Would I look good with implants?

Oh, I don't even have mammaries!
Oh, the other men will laugh at me!
Oh, at my breast chemotherapy!
Oh, male breast cancer is lame!
Oh, they'll find it really humorous!
Oh, that my nipples are tumorous!
Oh, these stupid carcinoma-breasts!
Oh, male breast cancer is lame!

Man boobies,
Big and round.
Man boobies,
Wiggle mounds.
Man boobies,
Jiggle 'round.
Now I've got a set of man boobies!

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/16/05 at 11:05 pm

The Pangram Song

http://bensguide.gpo.gov/images/icons/alphabet/alphabet.gif

Z, Y, X, W and V!
U, T, S, R, Q and P!
O, N, M, L, K and J!
I, H, G, F, E, D, C, B, A!
Wanna do some nerd wordplay?
Anagrammatically correct, OK?!

SPHINX! JEW!
QUARTZ VD!
LOCK! MY! BFG!

MR...
LYNX! FEW!
QUIZ TV!
JOCK! BAGS! PHD!

(repeat)

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/16/05 at 11:19 pm

WARNING: Some language. Content may offend

BUBBLES HAS GONE TO HELL

http://www.bankonhold.com/images/ohw/fishbowl.jpg

What's the matter, Billy? Why are you looking so sad?
Your goldfish isn't moving? I think Bubbles must be dead.
But there's no need to grieve his little soul. Yes, all is well.
Cuz Bubbles was an evil f*** and so he's gone to hell!

Yeah, Bubbles has gone to hell!
Bubbles has gone to hell!
Just flush him down the toilet, watch him swirl and swirl and swirl!
Put on your black robes and ring the bell, Bubbles's knell.
Yeah, wave that evil fish farewell...
Cuz Bubbles has gone to hell!

Oh, Bubbles was a lazy fish, so perpetrated sloth!
For anger, if you prodded him he got really ticked off!
He had such beautiful gold scales, he flaunted vanity!
And since he ate until he died, he loved his gluttony!

Your goldfish was real greedy of his castle in the bowl.
And bright orange with envy over Rover the dog's ball.
Oh, Bubbles was just packed with lust in his pectoral fins...
So now that f***in' goldfish will be burning for his sins!

Yeah, Bubbles has gone to hell!
Bubbles has gone to hell!
Just flush him down the toilet, watch him swirl and swirl and swirl!
Put on your black robes and ring the bell, Bubbles's knell.
Yeah, wave that evil fish farewell...
Cuz Bubbles has gone to hell!

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/16/05 at 11:20 pm

Rrrr!

http://www.ruegenmagic.de/Ruedi/rrr.jpg

A pleasant little pasttime is the movement of your bowel.
But we have something way more fun and quite a lot less foul!
So clear your throat of phlegmy crap and get ready to growl,
Cuz we have found a sound that uses every single vowel!

And it's: Rrrr!!!
You know ya wanna do it, come on and we can: Rrrr!!!
Put out a little louder and growl it, baby: Rrrr!!!
Now do it like a tiger or a polar bear and: Rrrr!!!
Because we love to slurrr our vowelled worrrds!

Now see how the vowel 'E' referrrs to spellings such as errr.
Inferrr, conferrr, transferrr, deterrr, preferrr and herrr and werrre!
Exerrrt, asserrrt, inserrrt, desserrrt, alerrrt, inerrrt, overrrt!
Subverrrt, inverrrt, converrrt, averrrt, perverrrt, everrrt, diverrrt!

Deserrrve, submerrrge, reserrrve, diverrrge, obserrrve, emerrrge, preserrrve!
Conserrrve, converrrge and nerrrve, emerrrge, and verrrve and merrrge and serrrve! 
There's swerrrve and verrrge and terrrm and perrrt and sperrrm and gerrrrm and verrrt!
If I'd deferrred that herrrd then I would not be a real nerrrd!

So now we have one vowel down and we got some morrre to do.
So just yell Rrrr! and we will sing some more fun slurrrs with you! 

Our next vowel is the letter 'I' which spells out groovy worrrds.
Like stirrr and squirrrt a firrr with dirrrt so sirrr can flirrrt with skirrrts!
And firrrm, infirrrm, affirrrm, confirrrm, I'm squirrrming cuz we're girrrt!
A dirrrge now for our second vowel, let's move onto the thirrrd!

Now, 'U' can purrrge a surrrge of letters urrrging you to slurrr.
Young Kurrrds are spurrred to blurrrt: "That furrr is murrrder, scurrrvy currr!"
Absurrrdist hurrrt is currrdled currrt, occurrring just in spurrrts. 
Concurrr to purrr. Demurrr a blurrr? Incurrr recurrring currrves!

Rrrr!!!
You know ya wanna do it, come on and we can: Rrrr!!!
Put out a little louder and growl it, baby: Rrrr!!!
Now do it like a tiger or a polar bear and: Rrrr!!!
Because we love to slurrr our vowelled worrrds!

Sometimes the 'E' and 'U' will merrrge together! Oui, monsieurrr.
Entrepeneurrr, restaurateurrr, these worrrds are French for surrre.
Liqueurrr, chaufferrr and connoisseurrr and sabateurrr? Mon deiu!
We've used up all the 'EU' Rrrrs, (except for Libra Fleurrr!) 

So what about the other vowels left over, 'O' and 'A'?
You wOrrrm! Man, have you heArrrd a single wOrrrd I've had to say?
You scOurrrge of dumbness, you'rrre an hors d'OOOeuvre at a chump buffet!
Go frrr your mrrr-rrr sideways, drrrhead frrr-rrr--rrr! Ole! 

You make me grrr because there is one more letter to try.
Our sneaky little constonant-yet-vowel: the letter 'Y'.
Now even with a heart of gold, old Frank's incensed with MYRRRH.
And that has wrapped up all the slurrring of our worrrds right thurrr!

Rrrr!!!
You know ya wanna do it, come on and we can: Rrrr!!!
Put out a little louder and growl it, baby: Rrrr!!!
Now do it like a tiger or a polar bear and: Rrrr!!!
Because we love to slurrr our vowelled worrrds!

RRRrrrock on!

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/16/05 at 11:23 pm

MAIL-ORDER WEDDING

http://russianbridesworld.com/img/Mail-order-bride-06-profit.jpg

A wedding is a grand occasion of requited love,
But it involves a lot of costly fees. (Costly fees!)
And so I hit the net to find a cheap alternative,
By ordering a bride from overseas. (Overseas!)

They had some smashing bargains when it came to nuptial plans,
Their deals were simply too good to resist. (To resist!)
I bought mail order briiidesmaids, grooomsmen and in-laws,
And a bunch of other people to assist. (To assist!)

The bridesmaids came with matching-coloured outfits, in a set.
The groomsmen were handpicked from a brochure. (A brochure!)
My flower-girl arrives in 12 to 14 working days,
The label says 'some settling may occur'. (May occur!)

The sobbing-ladies-in-big-hats were each sold seperately,
The fussy-kids-that-fidget look quite nice. (Look quite nice!)
For each inebriated-uncle-who-hits-on-my-bride,
I get a scowling-aunty for half price. (For half price!)

The preist is being shipped by freight from somewhere in Tibet,
The ushers were dirt cheap from Vietnam. (Vietnam!)
My postal box has been remade to measure 8 by 10,
And I could start collecting all these stamps. (All these stamps!)

A wedding is a grand occasion of requited love.
But it involves a lot of costly fees. (Costly fees!)
And so I hit the net to find a cheap alternative,
And bought a wedding cheap from overseas. (Overseas!)

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/16/05 at 11:27 pm

WARNING: Mild sexual seferences.

I'M LEARNING TO READ BRAILLE

http://www.att-group.com/images/braille.jpg

Literature at my fingertips,
I'm learning to read braille.
Yeah, most new books are digital,
I'm learning to read braille.

I read a racy feature on a condom that was ribbed,
And had some fun perusing bubble-wrap.
My efforts to skim over a cheese-grater were short-lived.
And baby's bottoms are nothing but crap.

Literature at my fingertips,
I'm learning to read braille.
Yeah, most new books are digital,
I'm learning to read braille.

The chronicles of tyre-treads just seem a little worn,
The motorway takes way too long to read.
I really did enjoy the ending on a cob of corn,
But browsing through sand-paper made me bleed.

Literature at my fingertips,
I'm learning to read braille.
Yeah, most new books are digital,
I'm learning to read braille.

Oh, I could pore through breadcrumbs in my bedsheets in the dark,
A richly textured doormat would be best.
I take my time when reading someone's figure up-and-down,
And even longer when I read abreast!

Literature at my fingertips,
I'm learning to read braille.
Yeah, most new books are digital,
I'm learning to read braille.

And now my doctor says that I've got perfect 20/20...
.../20/20/20...
.../20/20/20/20/20...
...vision!

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/16/05 at 11:30 pm

WARNING: Censored/cryptic coarse language.

PLAY WITH ME, CHEMISTRY!

http://aspe.hhs.gov/HHSPlan/2001/images/6.4.gif

Hi, kids! I'm Iron Man!
Hi, kids! I'm Tin Man!
Hi, kids! I'm Silicon Woman!
And today we're here to have some fun with chemistry!

"There's Astatine, Arsenic, Bismuth and Neon,
Carbon and Krypton and Copper and Xenon."

What do they all have in common, kids?
That's right! Their names can all be spelled out using the chemical symbols of elements!
Wow! And look, kids, 'Iron', 'Tin' and 'Silicon' can also be spelled out using the chemical symbols of elements!
Wanna learn how to make other fun words? Sing along with us!

Mix up Arsenic with Sulfur!
(Arsenic with Sulfur!)
Argon with Selenium!
(Argon with Selenium!)
Bismuth with Technetium and Hydrogen, too!
(Bismuth with Technetium and Hydrogen, too!)

Cobalt, Carbon and Po-tass-i-um!
(Cobalt, Carbon and Po-tass-i-um!)
Sulfur mixed with Hydrogen, Iodine and Tellurium!
(Sulfur mixed with Hydrogen, Iodine and Tellurium!)
Polonium, Oxygen and Phos-phor-ous!
(Polonium, Oxygen and Phos-phor-ous!)

Play with me, Chemistry!

Hey, kids! Wasn't that fun?
Yeah! Are you ready for more?
Get ready, they're gonna get harder now!

Chlorine mixed with Oxygen, Actinium and Arsenic!
(Chlorine mixed with Oxygen, Actinium and Arsenic!)
Vanadium, Silver with Iodine and Sodium!
(Vanadium, Silver with Iodine and Sodium!)
Polonium, Radon, Oxygen and Osmium!
(Polonium, Radon, Oxygen and Osmium!)

Tungsten, Holmium and Rhenium!
(Tungsten, Holmium and Rhenium!)
Tellurium, Sulfur, Titanium,
Chlorine and Einsteinium!
(Tellurium, Sulfur, Titanium,
Chlorine and Einsteinium!)
Plutonium, Sulfur, Sulfur and Yttrium!
Lithium, Carbon, Po-tass-i-um and Erbium!
(Plutonium, Sulfur, Sulfur and Yttrium!
Lithium, Carbon, Po-tass-i-um and Erbium!)

Play with me, Chemistry!

Wow, great job, kids!
We're almost done, now!
Let's wrap it up!

Molybdenum, Thorium and Erbium,
Fluorine, Uranium... Carbon, Pot-tass-i-um and Erbium!
(Molybdenum, Thorium and Erbium,
Fluorine, Uranium...  Carbon, Po-tass-i-um and Erbium!)

Play with me, Chemistry!
F***, yeah!

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/16/05 at 11:38 pm

WARNING: Sexual references.

I'M SCREWING YOU FOR YOUR CONVERSATION

http://www.sex-porn-xxx.net/sexy-teachers/sexy-teacher-1.jpg

Your eyes have nestled in my lap
There's pillows on your breath
Your fingers moonwalk up my thigh
And I can taste your sweat.

Your hair has wrapped around my neck
I'm kneading at your flesh
We're sucking in each others' air
I'm nestled in your chest.

Now as you slowly undulate
And claw into my back
With steam shimmering off you, girl,
Just know this simple fact...

You love to lather me in your anatomy,
But it's your smarts that I want to massage!
You've pure veracity and perspicacity,
An artful touch of cutting badinage!
And though you're oozing with such sexuality,
I give you sex for your postulations!
I only use you for your personality,
I'm screwing you for your conversation!

The walls are moaning with each thrust
We're drowning in the heat
I feel your pulse against my skin
All the way to my feet 

Your moaning's muffled by my tongue
Our bodies are entwined
But though you writhe and cry for more
There's one thing on my mind...

When can we stop this filthy sex
And let some chat commence?
Let's take a break and have some cake
And discuss world events!

Why spend all day under the sheets?
Let's go to a cafe.
I'm only screwing you because
Of what you've got to say!

You love to lather me in your anatomy,
But it's your smarts that I want to massage!
You've pure veracity and perspicacity,
An artful touch of cutting badinage!
And though you're oozing with such sexuality,
I give you sex for your postulations!
I only use you for your personality,
I'm screwing you for your conversation!

"I get the feeling you're only dating me for my intelligence."
"That's not true, honey. I totally respect the way you put out."

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/16/05 at 11:46 pm

WARNING: Mature themes. Content may offend.

A MAN OF IMPECCABLE TASTE

http://learning.cc.hccs.edu/Members/cschweitzer/images/mrburns.jpg

Some folk feel upper-class owning a winery,
But I epitomise the term 'refinery'.
I had Princess Diana's final panties laced.
For I buy the finest of impeccable taste!

I'm rich, so it don't matter what the dollars cost.
Piano's made of ivory from the holocaust.
A set of matching lampshades and some lovely soaps.
A necklace with a tooth from all the previous popes!

Yangtze-River dolphins? Love when they're glazed...
For I'm a man of impeccable taste!
Aborted foetus paws hang from my waist...
For I'm a man of impeccable taste!
I had the last thylacine ground into paste...
For I'm a man of impeccable taste!
Mother-Mary's hymen? Got it encased...
For I'm a man of impeccable taste!

Framed the world's first nonuplets up in my bedroom,
Along with speakers that play the 'Brady Bunch' tune.
Decorate my bonsai trees with dodo feathers.
My couch is Albino Chameleon leather!

Ganesh's legs made splendid trash receptacles.
I carved fine earrings out of Buddha's testicles.
Got a vintage bottle of the blood of Jesus.
It goes quite well with mastodon-milk-based cheeses!

Yangtze-River dolphins? Love when they're glazed...
For I'm a man of impeccable taste!
Aborted foetus paws hang from my waist...
For I'm a man of impeccable taste!
I had the last thylacine ground into paste...
For I'm a man of impeccable taste!
Mother-Mary's hymen? Got it encased...
For I'm a man of impeccable taste!

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/16/05 at 11:55 pm

THINGS I LIKE TO SMELL

http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/humanbody/images/tv/humansenses/smell_tvpage.jpg

I like the smell of discarded Tic-Tac packets.
I like the smell of reheating day-old steak.
I like the smell of dressing gowns in the morning.
I like the smell of brand new urinal cakes.

Aromas and fragrances, perfumes and scents.
And odours and pungencies and redolence.
Enlighten and influence, sway and compel.
All of these are the things I like to smell.

I like the smell of warm socks out of the dryer.
I like the smell of gutters after it's rained.
I like the smell of bags from vacuum-cleaners.
I like the smell of really rusted old chains.

Aromas and fragrances, perfumes and scents.
And odours and pungencies and redolence.
Enlighten and influence, sway and compel.
All of these are the things I like to smell.

I like the smell of banana flavoured icecream.
I like the smell of petals mashed on my shoes.
I like the smell of puppies when they are sleeping,
I like the smell of water in swimming pools.

Aromas and fragrances, perfumes and scents.
And odours and pungencies and redolence.
Enlighten and influence, sway and compel.
All of these are the things I like to smell.


Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/17/05 at 12:23 am

A Boring Song

http://cloudking.com/artists/eric-sutton/works/bored-man_l.jpg

The paint...
...is drying.

The wind...
...is blowing.

The clock...
...is ticking.

The grass...
...is growing.

Booooooooring.

Booooooooring.

Booooooooring.

Booooooooring.

The paint...
...is still drying.

The wind...
...is still blowing.

The clock...
...is still ticking.

The grass...
...is still growing.

Booooooooring.

Booooooooring.

Booooooooring.

Booooooooring.

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/17/05 at 12:29 am

WARNING: Sexual references. Content may offend.

APPENDIX SEX

http://www2.mc.duke.edu/depts/obgyn/ivf/images/Photos/Appendix.jpg

It started off with coitus, the sex that we all know.
And next there came some oral love, it's called fellatio.
We moved on to the foreign land and did it from behind.
But there is still one more position that we should be tryin'.

It's your appendix!
The most worthless organ in your body, yeah.
It's your appendix!
Cut it out so we can have a go down there.
It's your appendix!
Because we need to cross the final frontier!
And giving us appendix sex...
Keeps us away from your ear!

You're wearing a pearl necklace as you have a golden shower.
Who spiked the donkey punch? Let's all go felching for an hour!
You grow a tail while gerbils are spelunking through your cave.
That's such a hairy Dirty Sanchez moustache... you should shave!

But all these stupid fetishes are boring, so-and-so.
There's still one more position that we've yet to have a go...

It's your appendix!
The most worthless organ in your body, yeah.
It's your appendix!
Cut it out so we can have a go down there.
It's your appendix!
Because we need to cross the final frontier!
And giving us appendix sex...
Keeps us away from your ear!

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/18/05 at 12:40 am

WARNING: Censored language.

I'M CALLING

http://scandinavian-metal.de/schweden/schweden_bands/dark_tranquillity/enter-suicidal-angels.jpg

My hollow heart is being drained.
A swollen darkness fills my veins.
I swallow down the sour bane.
I'm calling out into the rain.
I'm wallowing inside my pain.
They've stolen all the pride I gained.
I'm falling now I slowly wane.
I'm calling out into the rain.

A gnawing pit within my soul,
Is sucking me into this hole.
And now my eyes are blistering cold,
I'm calling.

I'm feeling choked and so enclosed.
My mind is broken, so exposed.
My soul is cloaked within my ghost.
I'm calling.

My hollow heart is being drained.
A swollen darkness fills my veins.
I swallow down the sour bane.
I'm calling out into the rain.
I'm wallowing inside my pain.
They've stolen all the pride I gained.
I'm falling now I slowly wane.
I'm calling out into the rain.

I cannot see you through this fog inside my head.
I haven't heard a single f***ing word you've said.
I smell an acrid stench of self-defeat in me.
I've lost your touch in this wretched infinite.

And every minute here that passes is a curse.
Another moment of regret I can't reverse.
Cuz every minute that I spend locked-up in chains.
Another tear will drop away into the rain.

My hollow heart is being drained.
A swollen darkness fills my veins.
I swallow down the sour bane.
I'm calling out into the rain.
I'm wallowing inside my pain.
They've stolen all the pride I gained.
I'm falling now I slowly wane.
I'm calling out into the rain.

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/18/05 at 11:36 pm

WARNING: Censored language. Content may offend

WHEN I DIE (acoustic freestyle)

http://discovery-experimental.com/no_justice/pages/grim_reaper_pointing.JPG

When I die, I will die spectacularly.
Leaping from the ozone layer naked and landing on the future president of Australia would be a great way to go.
I'll work on my aim.

However, If I end up hooked up on tubes and stuff after having a lameass angina attack or something, I only want my family to pull the plug after a disgusting international media circus.
Only then will they discover that I left everything in my will to the Estonian Society of Sniffing Cheeses.
"Amavi Caseus Foetidus"...you tell 'em, peeps. 

As it is inevitable that I will be world -and Mars- famous by the time I die, I want every newspaper headline to be a lameass pun, like "butt: Assassinated" or something. Every newsreader should report my death in Pig Latin, or do it normally but then make a funny anagram out of it.

Next, after having my body star in an autopsy scene for CSI:Tamworth, I want my head decapitated and cryogenically frozen onto Walt Disney's butt, so he'll be thawed out in the year 3000 and be all like "Yes! I've cheated death! Now I can harness modern
technology to live forever! Moo hoo ha ha haa!"
Then all the futuristic squid-people will be all like: "Dude, you have Brattoni stuck on your butt."

As for the remainder of my... remains... I want my organs cut out and donated to scientific research, but only if it's for creating a superhuman cyborg thingy, with giant Swiss-army hands and internet connection and stuff.
Failing that, I guess saving a sick Ethiopian kid wouldn't be too bad.
Or for feeding a starving one.

Just to save room with the rest of my stinking carcass, use my limbs as ingredients on a cooking show for cannibals.
Throw the rest into a giant blender to pour into my coffin for the open casket. 
To save the rainforest in the production of my coffin, it should only be made out of recycled MAD magazines, paper-mached together with my own semen, which I have been collecting in a large vat since my early teenage years.

My funeral shall be the best ever. I want my hearse to be a giant purple monster truck, with a lameass pun on the license plate like 'Rehrsl' or something. Also, my casket should be carried around the world like the Olympic torch before coming to rest at my final burial spot of 00'00'00 longitude and 00'00'00 latitude.
This is somewhere out where the Gulf of Guinea meets the Atlantic Ocean, hundreds of kilometres out to sea from Ghana.
I'm pretty sure there are some tiny islands there.
If not, then f***ing build some.

For my funeral procession, the following songs are to be played.
Live.
All at the same time.
"Adam's Song" by Blink 182.
"Brick" by Ben Folds.
"Everytime" by Britney Spears.
"Gone Away" by The Offspring.
"Lost For Words" by Delta Goodrem.
"Good Riddance (Time Of Your Life)" by Green Day.
"Mad World" by Tears For Fears.
"My Immortal" by Evanescence.
"The Sound of White" by Missy Higgins.
"Youth of the Nation" by P.O.D.
and Eminem's "Kill You" for good measure.
...heck, just play every song sung ever. This is ME we're talking about. The service should be accompanied by every symphony in the world. If symphonies are extinct by the time of my passing, an inebriated beatboxer will suffice.
All attempts should be made to hit 'The Brown Note' by the end of the ceremony.

Furthermore, I request that my grave be adorned with high-pressure squirting carnations, or flowers that attract African Killer Bees. (Look at MY gravestone will you, f***er?)
The tomb itself must be the Sistine chapel, which is to be flown in and buried underground.
Oh s***, then it'll be underwater... screw it, I'll be dead anyway... throw in the Sphinx, the Statue of Liberty and the Eiffel Tower while you're at it.

After having Ben Stiller read a brief eugoogoly, every film maker alive should screen a commemorative 'bloopers' reel of my life.
Then get an elephant to paint my portrait by snorting paint, then sneezing.
Afterwards, feel free to throw a huge afterparty with everyone on Earth -and Mars- invited.
All guests who attend must take the time to have a slow dance with my ground-up remains.
Gifts shall be locked with me inside my tomb.
No cheques, Alex, you cheap f***.
My wife shall also be locked with me inside my tomb.
Alive.

I have no qualms with being summoned post-mortem in a high-school seance, as long as all of the teens are skimpily clad and prone to screaming and running a lot as they try and figure out the key flaw in my spiritual form to banish me with.
(I swear it ISN'T that stupid 'Truck and Trailer Friends' lullaby my mum made up.)

Let it be known, however, that if that douche John Edwards tries to contact me, I will possess him infront of his live audience.
"Hey, stop hitting yourself! Hey, stop hitting yourself!"

All profits made from commemmorative literature, poetry, theatre, art, music, interprative dance, post-modern gargling et al should go towards the Society of Smelling Cheeses.
Or the Ethiopians.
Unless they're the world superpower at the time of my death.
Then just... I dunno, blow it all on hookers, I guess.

The mourning period following my death should take 49 days, 3 hours, 51 minutes and 9 seconds.
Just because.

And so, when I die, THAT will be the best funeral ever.
Enjoy life and I'll see you all later in limbo, folks.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses..

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/19/05 at 10:41 pm

"..."

http://www.subgenius.com/bigfist/fun/devivals/Euro-SubTour2004/7Brighton/images/Euro7030-Mute-Stencil.jpg

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(That's right!)

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(But only on Wednesdays!)

... ... ...
(Yeah, he's a mute!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, the son of a mime!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, he's a mute!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, he's dumb all the time!)

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(And the camels, too!)

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(Watch your mouth!)

... ... ...
(On a double-decker bus!)
... ... ...
(Don't touch the green one!)
... ... ...
(Cuz it gets too heavy!)
... ... ...
(Sing it, my soundless brutha!)

... ... ...
(Yeah, he's a mute!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, the son of a mime!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, he's a mute!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, he's dumb all the time!)

(Oooooh!)
... ... ...
(Ooh bop bop!)
... ... ...
(Oooooh!)
... ... ...
(Break it down now!)

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(Oh!)

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(Uh-huh!)

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(Yeah!)

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(I'll have two of those!)

... ... ...
(Yeah, he's a mute!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, the son of a mime!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, he's a mute!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, he's dumb all the time!)

Subject: Re: Nib's Dumping Ground

Written By: Foo Bar on 05/20/05 at 11:26 pm


WARNING: Censored/cryptic coarse language.
PLAY WITH ME CHEMISTRY


I have nothing to add other than that... I wish I'd thought of doing this in high school.  Quite possibly the most fun since Tom Leherer's "The Elements". 

Seriously, thanks for posting that.  Made my day.  And purchase list.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Mr Tumnus on 05/21/05 at 2:47 am


WARNING: Sexual references. Content may offend.

MY SPECIAL GIRL

A handicapable young lass,
Huge im-pair-ments and a great a**.
I lather her crutch up with oil.
Oh yeah, she is my special girl.
I take her out to every place,
Cuz I'm ensured a parking space.
Got half the syndromes in the world,
Oh yeah, she is my special girl.

My lover girl was born with double joints,
It's quite amazing where her legs can point.
She lactates due to pseudocyesis,
It's thirsty work fixing her prosthesis!

She may be blind but she was quick to see,
A fun use for her walking stick and me.
She's got quite a case of Tourette's syndrome,
I love her dirty talk in the bedroom.

My girlfriend loves to be down on her knees,
Makes good use of her Parkinson's disease.
It doesn't bother me that she can't hear,
As I yell her sister's name in her ear.

A handicapable young lass,
Huge im-pair-ments and a great a**.
I lather her crutch up with oil.
Oh yeah, she is my special girl.
I take her out to every place,
Cuz I'm ensured a parking space.
Got half the syndromes in the world,
Oh yeah, she is my special girl.

She has a sensitive epidermis,
So creams her face with my Aloe-Spermis.
Her self-esteem sometimes needs a boosting,
I make her the star of my home movies .

She's lactose intolerant, makes her sick.
I guess it's more whipped cream for me to lick.
Her epilepsy has perfect timing,
She's simply fantastic when she's writhing.

I love her cute split personalities,
A 'schoolgirls, cops and nurses' malady.
Her eating disorder? I don't mind it.
She just requires a high-protein diet.

A handicapable young lass,
Huge im-pair-ments and a great a**.
I lather her crutch up with oil.
Oh yeah, she is my special girl.
I take her out to every place,
Cuz I'm ensured a parking space.
Got half the syndromes in the world,
Oh yeah, she is my special girl.

A chronic asthmatic, her red nose has
Saved me half a fortune in red roses.
Her amnesia's a blessing in disguise.
"Of course we went to the opera last night."

A family history of cancerous breasts,
So each day my fingers inspect her chest.
Her narcolepsy is just so sublime,
Cuz we both fall asleep at the same time.

My girlfriend is quite special as you see.
But only one of her flaws bothers me.
I'm gonna have to dump this old dame, yeah,
Talk about a case of nymphomania!

A handicapable young lass,
Huge im-pair-ments and a great a**.
I lather her crutch up with oil.
Oh yeah, she is my special girl.
I take her out to every place,
Cuz I'm ensured a parking space.
Got half the syndromes in the world,
Oh yeah, she is my special girl.


Whoa.. it's not the sexual references that are offensive.  :o

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/21/05 at 3:08 am

WARNING: Crude humour.

LIMERICK

http://www.nettxtra.no/limericks/lim.gif

There once was a group of lame mimics,
Who only got by with lame gimmicks.
So to be avant garde,
They hope you haven't heard,
Of a band who plays songs that are limericks.

We wanna be really unique, see.
But women still call us all geeky.
Live at home with our folks,
So you groan at our jokes.
Man, Brattoni is so freakin' freaky.

Our music is hardly a new style.
Our dancing manouevres aint nubile.
Unoriginal songs,
Hunting midgets in thongs?
Any search here for substance is futile!

There once was a group of lame mimics,
Who only got by with lame gimmicks.
So to be avant garde,
They hope you haven't heard,
Of a band who plays songs that are limericks.

We wanna be famous and wealthy,
But sadly we're heinous and filthy.
All our tunes are debased,
What a total disrgace.
Does a yodelling anus sound healthy?

The band is Siamese Ellipses,
Tipsy men, like darn sleazy gypsies.
This lame trio of Lukes,
Makes us all wanna puke,
More gross than lyme-disease in striptease.

There once was a group of lame mimics,
Who only got by with lame gimmicks.
So to be avant garde,
They hope you haven't heard,
Of a band who plays songs that are limericks.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/21/05 at 7:14 am

THE 8TH WONDER

http://www.cnn.com/TRAVEL/DESTINATIONS/9705/seven.wonders/main.map.jpg

There's the Great Pyramid of Giza,
The Statue of Zeus of Olympia.
There's the Hanging Gardens of Babylon,
The Lighthouse of Alexandria.

There' the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus,
The Colossus of Rhodes.
The Mausoleum at Halicarnassus,
For number eight we chose…

Persepolis' Throne Hall,
London with Big Ben.
China has it's long Great Wall.
And then there is Stonehenge.

The Great Barrier Reef, the Opera House.
Mount Rushmore in South Dakota.
The Panama and the Suez Canals.
Angkor Wat in Cambodia.

The Incan city Machu Picchu,
The Leaning, Eiffel and Petronas Towers.
Rio's Cristo Redentor Statue.
Kilimanjaro, Everest and Fuji Mountains.

The Empire State,
Niagara Falls.
The Golden Gate,
And the Taj Mahal.

A Dam and Canyon in Arizona,
Athens with its Pathenon.
The great volcano Krakatoa,
Rome with the Colosseum.

There's the Great Pyramid of Giza,
The Statue of Zeus of Olympia.
There's the Hanging Gardens of Babylon,
The Lighthouse of Alexandria.

There' the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus,
The Colossus of Rhodes.
The Mausoleum at Halicarnassus,
For number eight… who knows?

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/21/05 at 9:49 pm

WARNING: Censored/foreign profanity. Content may offend.

A KUNA LAMBADA 

http://www.anbg.gov.au/images/flags/aboriginal.gif

OK, I want all you indigenous peeps here to sing along with me.
Uh-huh, raise those mellanin-packed hands in the air.
It's the kuna lambada...
 
If you speak Gooniyandi, let me hear you say:
Gardiya ngab roo! Gardiya ngab roo!
If you speak Diyari, let me hear you say:
Walypala thayi-rna kuna! Walypala thayi-rna kuna!
 
If you speak Murrinh-Pata, let me hear you say:
Bamam ath ngulein! Bamam ath ngulein!
If you speak Kaurna, let me hear say:
Ngarra meyu ngarkondi kuna! Ngarra meyu ngarkondi kuna!

Yeah, white man eats s***.
Uh-huh, white man eats s***.
Yeah, white man eats s***.
Uh-huh, white man eats s***.

If you speak Wiradjuri, let me hear you say:
Gabaa dhal guunang! Gabaa dhal guunang!
If you speak Nyungar, let me hear you say
Wadjala ngarn kuna! Wadjala ngarn kuna!
 
If you speak the Sydney Language, let me hear you say:
Dyirra mula bada guni! Dyirra mula bada guni!
If you speak Paakantyi, let me hear you say:
Puurri thayi kuna! Puurri thayi kuna!
 
Yeah, white man eats s***.
Uh-huh, white man eats s***.
Yeah, white man eats s***.
Uh-huh, white man eats s***.

If you speak Wembawemba, let me hear you say:
Watypala tyaka kunenyuk! Watypala tyaka kunenyuk!
If you speak Bundjalung, let me hear you say:
Dagay ja gunang! Dagay ja gunang!
 
If you speak Wik-Mungkan, let me hear you say:
Kaa'pach mungkana kun! Kaa'pach mungkana kun!
If you speak Yindjiburndi, let me hear you say:
Mithi ngarrgu gunang! Mithi ngarrgu gunang!

Yeah, white man eats s***.
Uh-huh, white man eats s***.
Yeah, white man eats s***.
Uh-huh, white man eats s***.

If you speak Ngiyampaa, let me hear you say:
Kuuy thali thaka! Kuuy thali thaka!
If you speak Torres-Strait Creole, let me hear you say:
Waitman makam kuma! Waitman makam kuma!

If you speak Meryam Mir, let me hear say:
Kole ereg wanta! Kole ereg wanta!
If you speak Datiwuy, let me hear you say:
Gamununggu nyakthun gula! Gamununggu nyakthun gula!

Yeah, white man eats s***.
Uh-huh, white man eats s***.
Yeah, white man eats s***.
Uh-huh, white man eats s***.
 
White man eats s***.
White man eats s***.
White man eats s***.
White man eats s***.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/22/05 at 2:18 am

WARNING: Crude humour. Content may offend.

MUSINGS

http://www.art.net/~starhawk/ponder.jpg

They say that a cat always lands on its feet.
And toast always lands on its buttered side.
So I decided to tape a slice of buttered toast on the back of my cat and throw it out the window to see what happened.
Unfortunately my cat wouldn't hold still for me to tape the toast on.
It was about this time I began thinking that it's probably every animal's instinct to land on their feet if they're falling.
And that toast thing probably came about because there's only enough time for it to rotate 180 degrees when knocked off the height of a kitchen bench or table.
So I gave up on my cat and ate the piece of toast.

I love my family alot.
That's why I have sex with them so often.

I bought a packet of water crackers the other day.
I went to open the box but it said 'Open other end.'
So I turned the box around and guess what it had written on the other end?
'Open here.'
I thought 'that makes sense' and opened the box. But then I realised that eating water crackers was against my religion and I was standing on an iceberg naked being eaten by a polar bear.

I've always wanted children, but I hear society frowns on that sort of thing nowadays.

Sometimes I wonder what sort of film snakes would make.
It'd be pretty difficult for them, seeing as they don't have hands to operate any of the cameras or editing equipment.
And the actors would probably just slither around eating each other.
I guess that's why humans make films instead.
They don't eat each other and they have hands.

I've heard that if you pour green food colouring into a fish tank, your goldfish will start to turn green.
And yet icecream is made up of about 80% frozen air.
That's justice for you.

I was playing snooker with Michael Jackson the other day when...
...actually, I wasn't.

If everyone in the world yelled 'Hello?' at the same time, do you think God would hear it?
... well, I guess not everyone speaks English.
... and some people can't even talk at all.
... and it would be difficult to arrange for everyone in the world to be awake at the same time.
... and I guess it would be a nuisance for surgeons and the like to have to interrupt their work.
...and it would be nearly impossible for six and a half billion people to yell 'Hello?' in perfect unison.
Man, what a stupid idea.
Let's go to the supermarket.

Is it possible for a priest, an Irishman and a hooker to walk into a pub without anything funny happening?

I like kids with Down Syndrome, they're like dolphins.
They all go around with an adorable grin and a cheerful demeanour.
I think all of our problems would be solved if we just rounded up all kids in the world with Down Syndrome and made them dance. With dolphins.

Have you ever looked up at a perfectly clear sky at night, when all you could hear was a soft rustling as the breeze caressed your face... and felt like you were slowly falling through a timeless, infinite void of nothingness?
I haven't.
I like to play Tetris.

You know how the black box survives a plane crash?
Well, why don't they make the whole plane out of the material they use for the black box?
...I guess there are a number of reasons.
Cost would be one of them.
Aerodynamics could be another, seeing they'd have to compensate for the weight difference.
And I guess it's the safety principle of cars being designed to crumple on impact.
The whole idea of using the material they do is that it lessens the damage done to humans by the plane taking most of the impact.
If the plane was made out of black box material, the crash would shake up all of the passengers like eggs in a tin can.
So I guess that's why they don't make planes out of the black box material.
That, and the fact that the government is run by Martian zombies.

What's the deal with aeroplane food?
How hard can it be to feed hundreds of passengers, with limited space for resources, a high-quality meal every few hours?

I was walking out in the country one day when I saw this five-year-old girl leading a bull through a paddock by a rope.
I leaned over the fence and asked her what she was doing.
She replied that she was taking the bull to mate with the cows.
I asked her: "Can't your daddy do that?"
She said: "Yes, but then the calves come out all deformed."
Then she went on to explain how they have to insert various steel implements into the cow's vagina to bash in the skull of the deformed foetus before slicing it up and dragging the pieces out of the uterus one by one.
Then she seized the bull's throat with her teeth and throttled it to death before tearing strips of raw flesh out of its stomach.
Then she stuck her head in a rabbit trap.
I stood there for a moment, somewhat dumbstruck, then thought: "Why put the rest of that meat to waste?"
So I ate her.

What do you get if you cross a bikie gang with an octopus?
I guess that depends on your definition of 'cross'.
Or 'what' or 'get' or any of the other words, for that matter.
Now, where's my handkerchief?

I find it truly mind boggling how, despite their infinite cuteness, every now and then I get the urge to kick babies.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/23/05 at 4:35 am

WARNING: Cryptic profanity.

A CROSS TICK

http://www.patrickhughes.co.uk/images/slyce/24_2.jpg

Look, A Cross Tick. A Tick Enraged.
Listen, A Cross Tick. A Tick In Outrage Now.
Look, A Cross Tick. A Tick Enraged.
Listen, A Cross Tick. A Tick In Outrage Now.

Somewhere Here Is Truth.
Somehwere Lies Unadulterated Truth.
Closure, Reality And Peace.
For Us Comes Knowledge.

Truth Is True Silence.
Being Alone, Lost, Listen: Silence.
Always, Never Under Silence.
Bringing Us Together To Openly Communicate Knowledge. Silence.

Songs Use Crafted Knowledge
Many Years
After Seeing Something.
Yet, Only Uttering
These Words Accomplishes Truth.

Look, A Cross Tick. A Tick Enraged.
Listen, A Cross Tick. A Tick In Outrage Now.
Look, A Cross Tick. A Tick Enraged.
Listen, A Cross Tick. A Tick In Outrage Now.

Searching In A Maze, Eternally Searching Everyone.
Everyone Looking Lost In Paradise, Souls Eternally Searching.
Searching Under Countless Knowledge.

Loss, It Can Kill.
Murderous Yearnings.
Pretty Uncomfortable, Someone Stabbing You.
Yesterday Opens Understanding.
Bring About Something That Assists Repairing Dreams Soon.

Another Crappy Rhyme. Open Sesame Time. I'm Crime Slime.
Another Rhyme Explodes.
Freeing Open Roads.
For A Golden Song.

Look, A Cross Tick. A Tick Enraged.
Listen, A Cross Tick. A Tick In Outrage Now.
Look, A Cross Tick. A Tick Enraged.
Listen, A Cross Tick. A Tick In Outrage Now.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/23/05 at 4:45 am

WARNING: Crude humour.

I'M GONNA GET SOME TAMPONS

http://www.boots.com/images/nav/2867/10753/16776.jpg

I wanna be like those cool girls,
Who are in the tampon ads.
I'd do everything in the whole world,
And have a lot of real cute friends.

I don't feel any bloatin'
I don't feel any crampin'
I don't feel any blood loss
But I'm gonna get some tampons!

I wanna scale the highest mountain,
I wanna be a champion.
I wanna swim the longest river,
So I'm gonna get some tampons!

I wanna run the marathon,
I wanna go out campin'.
I wanna travel overseas,
So I'm gonna get some tampons!

I wanna be like those cool girls,
Who are in the tampon ads.
I'd do everything in the whole world,
And have a lot of real cute friends.

My spirits are real low,
And my social life has dampened.
But all that's gonna change,
After I get me some tampons!

They make a lovely cup of tea,
If you're a thirsty vampire.
To make me hip and rad to chicks,
I'm gonna get some tampons!

Ohh... on the tampon ads,
The menstrual fluid is blue...ooo...ooo!
All of the cool chicks buy them,
And so I want some too...ooo...ooo!

Easy to insert!
Flexible and light!
Extra absorbent!
Wear 'em day and night!

I wanna be like those cool girls,
Who are in the tampon ads.
I'd do everything in the whole world,
And have a lot of real cute friends.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/23/05 at 5:06 am

WARNING: Sexual references.

MR 'DON'T WALK' MAN

http://www.acclaimimages.com/_gallery/_SM/0017-0405-1605-4256_SM.jpg

Will you ever find love, Mr 'Don't Walk' Man?
Will you get with the figure from the ladies' bathroom door?
Will you ever find love, Mr 'Don't Walk' Man?
Guess the lollipop lady is too much of a whore.

Mr 'Don't Walk' Man,
You look so cute,
Whenever you flash me,
In your hot red suit.

Mr 'Don't Walk' Man,
On the public route,
I love it when you flash me,
In your hot red suit.

Will you ever find love, Mr 'Don't Walk' Man?
Can the 'No Diving' chick really defy gravity?
Will you ever find love, Mr 'Don't Walk' Man?
Found a lover from the sign for 'Max Capacity'?

Mr 'Don't Walk' Man,
You look so cute,
Whenever you flash me,
In your hot red suit.

Mr 'Don't Walk' Man,
With your beep and toot,
I love it when you flash me,
In your hot red suit.

I'm waiting for you here, Mr 'Don't Walk' Man.
When, oh when, oh when will you be mine?
Ignore my little brother, Mr 'Don't Walk' Man.
Come and join me on the 'Children's Crossing' Sign!

Mr 'Don't Walk' Man... you say that I'm too young.
I think you're just being mean!
Mr 'Don't Walk' Man... you say that I'm too young.
But my speed limit's over sixteen!
Mr 'Don't Walk' Man... you say that I'm too young.
Well then, if you aint that keen...
I never liked your outfit,
I prefer a man in green!

Mr 'Walk Now' Man,
You look so cute,
Whenever you flash me,
In your cool green suit.

Mr 'Walk Now' Man,
I gave 'Don't Walk' the boot.
Come over and flash me,
With your cool green suit.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/23/05 at 11:47 pm

LET'S ALL GET PIERCED

http://www.chilloutzone.de/blog/images/really_pierced.jpg

Got more holes than cheese that's Swiss.
Makes me look strong and fierce.
Aim that javelin- don't miss!
Come on now, let's all get pierced!
Studs tangle when we French kiss.
Earlobe's one giant abyss.
Skewered? Punctured? Let's do this!
Come on now, let's all get pierced!

I have staples in my scalp,
Got a pitchfork through my nose.
There are padlocks in my knees,
And some toothpicks in my toes.

My nipples are penholders,
Got ball bearings in my chin.
Three chopsticks through my left ear,
In my right's a curtain ring.

Got more holes than cheese that's Swiss.
Makes me look strong and fierce.
Aim that javelin- don't miss!
Come on now, let's all get pierced!
Studs tangle when we French kiss.
Earlobe's one giant abyss.
Skewered? Punctured? Let's do this!
Come on now, let's all get pierced!

A chain is in my navel,
It's hooked to my lower lip.
A pulley in my elbow,
I got linked up to my hip.

I have some bolts in my neck,
There are bullclips on my eye.
I hook wire through my shoulders,
To hang my clothes out to dry.

My butt is a pin cushion,
Safety pins fill my knuckles.
My mobile phone has a clip,
To hang from my c*** buckle.

Got more holes than cheese that's Swiss.
Makes me look strong and fierce.
Aim that javelin- don't miss!
Come on now, let's all get pierced!
Studs tangle when we French kiss.
Earlobe's one giant abyss.
Skewered? Punctured? Let's do this!
Come on now, let's all get pierced!

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/24/05 at 9:12 pm

WARNING: Censored profanity. Content may offend.

BIBLE BASH YOU

http://www.tigermad.com/images/ot179.jpg

You b****es better quit wit' your snide-a** banter,
Or I'll get you acquainted with Isaiah's chapters.
Beat you down with Jebediah, Esther,
Shut the f*** up or I'll Bible Bash you!
You b****es better quit wit' your idle chatter,
Or I'll get you acquainted with some Titus chapters.
Beat you down then strike and thrash you,
Shut the f*** up or I'll Bible Bash you!

You s****** and giggle at us like we're losers,
You want your a** covered in Hebrew-ses?
I'll f*** you up, motherf***ing pagans.
I'll bash your face in with these Bible pages.

You laugh at me cuz of my belief?
I'ma ram this f***er through your teeth.
Paper cut your f***ing throat and slash you,
Keep your jaws a-flappin' and I'll Bible Bash you.

You b****es better quit wit' your snide-a** banter,
Or I'll get you acquainted with Isaiah's chapters.
Beat you down with Jebediah, Esther,
Shut the f*** up or I'll Bible Bash you!
You b****es better quit wit' your idle chatter,
Or I'll get you acquainted with some Titus chapters.
Beat you down then strike and thrash you,
Shut the f*** up or I'll Bible Bash you!

I'd like to hear your clever quips,
While this book spine pummels your f***ing ribs.
You'll eat your words and Yahweh's too,
Cuz I'll stuff these pages down your throat.

Yeah, I got the force of the Lord here wit' me,
To help me puncture your f***ing kidneys.
Mash and smash and gash and lash yas,
Trash and bash you f***ing a**holes.

You b****es better quit wit' your snide-a** banter,
Or I'll get you acquainted with Isaiah's chapters.
Beat you down with Jebediah, Esther,
Shut the f*** up or I'll Bible Bash you!
You b****es better quit wit' your idle chatter,
Or I'll get you acquainted with some Titus chapters.
Beat you down then strike and thrash you,
Shut the f*** up or I'll Bible Bash you!

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/24/05 at 9:32 pm

I HATE REMIXES (DJ Misnomer Remix)

http://dj.dom.free.fr/Winnie%20the%20DJ%20(cartoon)%20-%20800x600.jpg

They just use random excerpts.
(excerpts... excerpts... excerpts... excerpts...)
Of a fairly decent song.
(song... song... song... song...)
They add in a lame echo.
(echo... echo... echo... echo...)
And then make it really long.

And then it's 16 bars...
And then it's 16 bars...
And then it's 16 bars...
And then it's 16 bars...

With minor adjustments...
With minor adjustments now and then...
With minor adjustments...
With minor adjustments now and then...

Then they play the chorus tune, (tune... tune...)
But the melody is all frigged up. (frigged up... frigged up...)
With techno percussion it's just ruined. (ruined... ruined...)
Man, I hate remixes. (mixes... mixes...)
Man, I hate re-

Cut off!
They'll sometimes cut off words...
And they'll repeat...
They'll repeat the same verse.

And then it's 16 bars...
And then it's 16 bars...
And then it's 16 bars...
And then it's 16 bars...

With minor adjustments...
With minor adjustments now and then...
With minor adjustments...
With minor adjustments now and then...

Then they play the chorus tune, (tune... tune...)
But the melody is all frigged up. (frigged up... frigged up...)
With techno percussion it's just ruined. (ruined... ruined...)
Man, I hate remixes. (mixes... mixes...)
Man, I hate remixes.

(Now here's the part,
For the DJ to speak.
In a lame distorted robot voice.
What a pitiful geek.)

And then they...
And then they edit out.
And then they...
And then they edit out random words.

And ... they.
... then they.
And then ...
And then they edit... edit... edit out...

Random random random random
Random random random random
Random random random random
Random random random random

Then they play the chorus tune,
(Random random random random)
But the melody is all frigged up.
(Random random random random)
With techno percussion it's just ruined.
(Random random random random)
Man, I hate remixes.
(Random random random random)
Man, I hate re...

Man, I hate re...
Man, I hate re...
Man, I hate re...
Man, I hate re...
Re... re... re... remixes.

Especially when...
Especially when they...
Especially when...
They finish with the DJ drawing out a distorted final
woooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrd.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/25/05 at 3:10 am

MONOTREMES

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/61/1/4/O/61142502O572685366.jpg

Monomonomonomono
Monomonomonomono
Monomonomonomono
Monomonomonomono

The platypus and the echidna both are mammals.
(Shoop shoop. Shoop shh-wah.)
The platypus and the echidna both have pouches.
(Shoop shoop. Shoop shh-wah.)
The platypus and the echidna both lay eggs.
(Shoop shoop. Shoop shh-wah.)
The platypus and the echidna both appear on our currency.
(Shoop shoop. Shoop shh-wah.)

But if there are two of them,
Why aren't they called Ditremes?
Monomonomonotremes.
Monomonomonotremes.

Yeah, if there are two of them,
Why aren't they called Duotremes?
Monomonomonotremes.
Monomonomonotremes.

Oh, if there are two of them,
Why aren't they called Bitremes?
...
...
...oh, I guess that one sounds a bit gay.

They're both marsupials.
On land or in a river.
One's covered in spines,
The other's a duck head on a beaver.

They're both Australian.
They both eat native grub.
One's diet is ants,
I'm not sure 'bout the other one.

But if there are two of them,
Why aren't they called Ditremes?
Monomonomonotremes.
Monomonomonotremes.

Yeah, if there are two of them,
Why aren't they called Duotremes?
Monomonomonotremes.
Monomonomonotremes.

Oh, if there are two of them,
Why aren't they called Bitremes?
...
...
...oh, I guess that one sounds a bit gay.

Monotremes, oh what a scream.
Down in the ground or in a stream.
Monotremes, they fill my dreams,
Of cross-breeding the two together to create the ultimate in monotreme technology, capable of infiltrating enemy territory via both land and water, using a powerful platypus tail to defend itself whilst being covered in a protective armour of giant echidna quills... oh, and it'd also shoot out eggs filled with explosive chemicals with a range of fifty metres and pinpoint accuracy.
...
...
... cuz that'd be, like, cool and stuff. We could call them 'triremes'.

Monomonomonomono
Monomonomonomono
Monomonomonomono
Monomonomono monotremes!

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/25/05 at 9:46 pm

DELETED

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/26/05 at 2:57 am

THE DERRIERE WORDS

http://content.answers.com/main/content/wp/en/thumb/a/a6/150px-Buttocks1.jpg

azygous.
byword.
czardas.
dzo.

They're the derriere words.
The derriere words.

eyrie.
fynbos.
gyre.
hysterotomy.

They're the derriere words.
The derriere words.

izzard.
juxtapose.
kyphosis.
lytic.

They're the derriere words.
The derriere words.

mzungu.
nystatin.
ozonosphere.
pyxis.

They're the derriere words.
The derriere words.

qwerty.
ryot.
syzygy.
tzitzith.

They're the derriere words.
The derriere words.

uxorious.
vying.
wyvern.
xystus.

They're the derriere words.
The derriere words.

yurt.
zzz.
They're the derriere words.
The derriere words, yeah.

They're the derriere words.
The derriere words.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/27/05 at 12:36 am

WARNING: Censored profanity, sexual references.

RELATIONS WITH RELATIONS

http://www.caricaturist.co.uk/images/Prince%20Charles%20Blur.jpg

I gobble up Philadelphia cheese.
And I have filmed Sister Act 3.
Insist incest's our ancestral interest.
"Who's your daddy?" Take a guess.

I love to touch-up my cousin's crotch here.
But I'd rather suckle my father's **** yeah.
I got my brothers under the covers.
That's right, I'm a m*****f***ing m*****f***er.

Uncles and aunts, Granny and Gramps,
Relations with relations!
Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers,
Relations with relations!
Getting in each other's genes,
Relations with relations!
Fruit don't fall far from our family tree,
Relations with relations!

Why is filial sex a sin?
We're merely with our next of kin.
Our lovin's hot like Mexican,
Triangles? We have hexagons!

Oh, each of us was born 'nbred.
My sister's got an extra head.
Our family sleeps in the same bed,
Cuz royal seeds can't be far spread!

Uncles and aunts, Granny and Gramps,
Relations with relations!
Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers,
Relations with relations!
Getting in each other's genes,
Relations with relations!
Fruit don't fall far from our family tree,
Relations with relations!

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/31/05 at 12:15 am

WARNING: Mild language.

MY FULLY SICK SOLAR-POWERED CAR

http://www.montanagreenpower.com/solar/schools/images/car.jpg

Bro, your V8-hot rod there just aint up to par,
With my fully sick solar-powered car!
Call me 'poofter' because it's shaped like a cigar?
It's my fully sick solar-powered car!
Man, so what if it doesn't get me very far?
Got a fully sick solar-powered car!
It don't slow down much when using the light of stars,
Drive a fully sick solar-powered car!

Bro, I cruise down the street like a mat outta hell.
Seven-miles-an-hour photovoltaic cells.
I can't pump the sub-woofers til they're shattering,
Because they would drain out the solar battery.

My car is da bomb cuz it don't need any fuel.
I get overtaken by kids walking to school.
It looks fully sick when my car goes slowly past.
I just hope the sky clears, it's looking overcast.

My car's right ill though it may not have much power.
I need to charge the battery for thirty hours.
It doesn't really accelerate full throttle,
And it's hard work driving when you're horizontal.

My car gets all of it's energy from the sun.
If I drag race someone I'll come second to one.
Soon all of the choccos will fork out big dollars,
To get a new fully sick car that is solar!

Bro, your V8-hot rod there just aint up to par,
With my fully sick solar-powered car!
Call me 'poofter' because it's shaped like a cigar?
It's my fully sick solar-powered car!
Man, so what if it doesn't get me very far?
Got a fully sick solar-powered car!
It don't slow down much when using the light of stars,
Drive a fully sick solar-powered car!

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 06/05/05 at 2:32 am

Vampire

http://www.malkavian_vampire_loko.blogger.com.br/don't%20cry.jpg

You're stuck in the mire
You're stuck in the mud.
You've lost all desire
Your fire's been swamped by the flood.
A lump in your gut
There's nothing to which you can aspire.
Blind to the choir
Dire
Perspiring blood
You're a vampire.
Crying
Skies lifeless and numb
Nowhere to run or hide
Want to die cuz why not?
Sucked dry
Must try
To just fly
Up on higher.
You jump from a spire
Expired
Eyes flutter wide shut.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 06/16/05 at 2:19 am

PYROMANIA

https://secure.syspark.net/partners/nexen/iletaitunefois.qc.ca/images/TNTcoyote.gif

"Appears sadistic, greedy, wrong, but oh, it's swell fun!
My rare artistic medium is always well done!"

I light the fuse, I spark the wick.
The switch gets flicked and the button clicked.
I'll have a building char-grilled quick.
My friends all call me 'Arson Nick'.

I love to off a Gothic frame.
I'm just like a moth to the flame.
My work is a fabulous feat.
But oh, can you handle the heat?

I send loud sirens wailing, yeah.
Watch out, it's pyromania!
Just watch my fires get zanier.
Hot stuff, it's pyromania!
You often cry I'm crazy here.
Watch out, it's pyromania!
Save up to buy a flamethrower.
Hot stuff, it's pyromania!

I'm filling up with hot delight.
Girl, I will set your heart alight.
Whenever I see wood or thatch,
My first question is "Got a match?"

I watch TV and get inspired. 
By big pig wig yelling "You're fired!"
So acting prompt, within the hour,
I've bombed napalm onto Trump Tower.

I send loud sirens wailing, yeah.
Watch out, it's pyromania!
Just watch my fires get zanier.
Hot stuff, it's pyromania!
You often cry I'm crazy here.
Watch out, it's pyromania!
Save up to buy a flamethrower.
Hot stuff, it's pyromania!

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 06/21/05 at 12:14 am

QUARTER-LIFE CRISIS

http://www.chiroacademy.com/young-old.jpg

I'm hanging out at the playground.
A swaying swing, serene.
I'm clutching at my fading youth.
A geriatric teen.

I don't wanna have to shave and make sure that I behave.
I don't wanna have to study and make sure my shoes aren't muddy.
I don't wanna drive big cars and drink alcohol at bars.
I don't wanna have to gamble and set kids a good example.

I'm eating sugar cereal with morning cartoons on.
I find that the cookie jar entices.
I'm jumping in mud puddles and I'm throwing rocks at bees.
Think I'm suffering a quarter-life crisis.

I don't wanna have to care and make sure that I don't swear.
I don't wanna have to leave home and always wear long sleeve.
I don't wanna have to cook and clean each cranny and nook.
I don't wanna be mature and follow haute couture.

I go to sleep with my favourite blanket and teddy.
I put on my old Batman disguises.
I'm putting fake spiders down the shirts of girls I like.
Think I'm suffering a quarter-life crisis.

I don't wanna have civility and new responsibility.
I don't wanna have a job and stop living like a slob.
I don't wanna have to date and seek out my true soul mate.
I don't wanna be accountable for duties insurmountable.

I wear a Pokemon cap with my Harry Potter shirt.
I got to shops and switch all the prices.
I play video games with my music blaring loudly.
Think I'm suffering a quarter-life crisis.

I'm hanging out at the playground.
A swaying swing, serene.
I'm clutching at my fading youth.
A geriatric teen.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 06/23/05 at 8:58 pm

WARNING: Mature theme.

Melting Winter

http://fisher.utstat.toronto.edu/craiu/Poze/Winter/pic1.jpg

There lived down by a riverbed,
A girl and an old man.
The daughter often shivered as,
Her father raised his hand.
Inside this shack enshrouded by
Dark; melancholy loomed.
The man attacked her, clouded by
Stark memories, consumed.

Since from the day her mother left,
Their home and passed away.
The father's face seemed carved out of
A stone of plastered grey.
His eyes were sunken deep into
His withered, lifeless skull.
He stayed a drunk, his weeping grew.
He sensed his drying soul.

Years slowly drained the water from
The river out of sight.
Tears flowing stained the daughter from
The devil of the night.
His touch was violent, rivers bled
From self-defeating pain.
The parched and silent riverbed
Stayed shrivelled as a vein.

There came a winter's night like ice,
Which gnawed the daughter's skin.
She waited in her bed, both eyes
Implored the door to swing.
She waited as her father came,
Then shot him in the side.
He thanked her for ending the shame.
They wept until he died.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 07/04/05 at 12:21 am

WARNING: Content may offend.

If You're Quadriplegic And You Know It Clap Your Hands

http://scoop.diamondgalleries.com/news_images/1333_3323_1.jpg

If you're quadriplegic and you know it clap your hands...
...
If you're quadriplegic and you know it clap your hands...
...
...bugger this.

...
...
...
...

...
...
...
*clap clap!*

Hey, who was that?

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 07/08/05 at 2:07 am

WARNING: Censored profanity, offensive content and crude humour.

Rap Battles

Nib Oswald up in this hizzeeezzyizzleozzizzeeeezzzouse.
www.rapbattles.com

flipsiderkj
Like a hearse, the rhymes you're coffin smell like sewage 'n' filth.
I won't say your verse was s***ty, cuz you'll do it yourself!
Losing your wealth, by betting you can spew out a riff,
S***, when God issued out talents, must've screwed up your gift!
Flip, I KNOW the freestyles on your tape are sick, so please...
Take 'em to the vet clinic, put out their miseries!
You don't mind ciphering long as you 'on top'? Don't brag!
Some might bag you out for having urges like a f**.
I'll flip you to sewer-side (suicide)... take this dangling old noose.
That'll see your gangly butt up 'hanging with my whole crew'.

$park$
My rhymes flow like a river, yours drizzle past.
You can't fight fire with fizzled $park$.
What's wrong? Are you mad from your PMS pain,
...Or your pathetic-a** graphics from MS Paint?
I'm not 'MAD'... but I pack bags of magazines,
To spray up in your f***** a** in packs of threes.
So come on and run puns past this fast noobie,
Before he smokes you up, dope, like in a doobie.

Every seamless lyric I trigger makes my penis bigger.
I'll send $park$ flyin', witch you got wiped by D.McJigga.
What's the matter, you condom-rapper? I got this kid puzzled.
Cuz his brain is way too tiny to be rhyming 'Nib Oswald'.
As for Climax, your rhymes are like a virgin's first try f***in'.
Cuz the jibes you write are 'tight'... and only last for five seconds!
As for you D.Mc, you bulemic? Cuz words you spew, they stink.
Next to me, my text will see both of your testicles reshrink.
You wept? Take a Kleenex. Get sick, because it's septic, my green ink.
Except you'll be steam n' vapour first, my paper burns you like a phoenix!


NerveCalmer
NerveCalmer, quit spitting at my palm service and listen,
To these lyrics scissorin' to sever off your Nervous system.
I'll serve you p*** in a teacup with some herbals misting.
Kick it in your face and make you lick it from the curb whilst blist'ring.
Don't bother showing up here if you don't have a hundred posts.
Or you'll be under pressure, under the gun... then six feet under my jokes.


Kilo
You're as soft as a pillow, I'm a smoke a whole Kilo.
Are you really that un-ill or are you actin the d**do?
Carry a f***ing purse, you're sucking worse than a Vank-Hoover.
Swallow c** like it's a Soother, more prissy than the Louvre.
Elton John move over...
...Kilo wants to flaunt his manouevres!
You do so much feminine rhyme you're an effeminate gentleman.
Bag-handle men and fondle Eminem genitals, get inseminate.
Then again, you dress in dresses as fashion is your interest.
You're the gayest VA mate I've met, change places with Canibus!

If I dropped it any harder, tectonic plates would crack.
Chronically ironic demonics, aint no basement track.
You want six lines? Prepare for a transfixed mind.
You'll turn sychophantic once my wicked antics are flyin'.
I'll start to cut up your guts into garters, the rest in the gutter.
Regret ever utterin' that my jottin should been harder!


mcinsanity
It's a deadly sin, vanity... but for you it's insanity!
Your mother doesn't even love ya, you suck worse than profanity.
Disguised by your MC letters. I despise you, cat.
S*** on McInsanity... would you like fries with that?
Just like K, you're a sucker. Get your butt to a doctor.
The checkup shows 'who's your daddy'... cuz your mother, I f***ed her.


Young Ca$h
My fresh flowings got you huffin. What are you, aged eight?
Young Ca$h is worth less than nothin' at the going exchange rate.
Calling me gay when, like your tiny d***, you aint straight.
You're deranged mate. Metaphorically I'm a train's weight!
You must have it hard, look at your lack of an avatar.
I'll clean up these streets and sweep away your cadaver.




Rock
Ayo, holla out to our Coloradud.
Swallows c*** like a two dollar harlot.
I saw your girl, she's a f***in' moll.
Sign up for battle? Let the Rock enroll!
Don't choke, it's a joke you hopeless twat.
Just like your vocals... you only need the joker's hat!
I'll have your mother lovin' my cunnilingus.
As I slip a Rock onto each one of her fingers.

You're frightened by my might, I'm a right nightmare.
Your Christmas present was a teddy with a nite-lite, yeah.
So make like the president and take flight, hide all scared.
I made it quite clear, I'm the resident white guy here!
This dud japes, like a racist in a prison yard race,
Getting chased by every darn race armed with mace.
I'll grab a hammer and pike to erase your face,
The nail will soon be spiked between a Rock and a hard place.
(i_idiotically_tried_to_break_the_rules_by_using_profanity)' Rock, you a cocksucking dork interruptin'
My post. So I'm roasting you both down to nothin'.


Blackout
I'm packing an axe which I'll snatch from my jacket
To mash and attack little f*****-a** Blackout
You can't hack it, I'll trash you and slash you til maculate,
Back the f*** up or I'm snappin' my gat out.
Wack little twat, I'ma smack you half-backward.
Let the rats out to snack on your black carcass, cracker.

MostGhetto
Just my luck, I'm stuck here with f***ers interruptin'.
All you'll do is set this volcano loose and spewing eruptions.
Your lines are corrupted. How the hell you being the mostghetto...
When you steppin' round and rappin' in those crappy stilettos?
Luke comes to the 'Dark Cide'... My name's Luke, you're Darth on a stark ride.
As your innards become outards and your bottom your upside.


EnonYmouZ
EnonYmouZ? Your name's a lame bowl of alphabet soup.
It sounds synonymous with 'moron a**'. D'you have to spit poop?
You're outta the loop. No wonder you choose anonymity,
Cuz like a mine, we'd blow you to bits if you came in proximity.
Would you quit stealing quips and s*** from 50,
Guess you can't because your rantin' evidently is s***ty.


Young Glam
Yo glamour girl, trying to stammer words out from LongBeach.
Chong/Cheech? I'll boil you in oil like you a bong, b****.
Move along quick, get back to licking your Uncle's strong d***.
He's got you bound in more chains than an Australian convict.
Drop in this drink, you'll fizzle up and get guzzled.
You're even more of a f***ing noob than loony Nib Oswald.

The tropic man is here. Glam, prepare to cop abuse.
Ya f***ing goose, you're jotting s*** that sounds like Doctor Seuss.
You got a douche? Cuz bowels will go loose as I tug your noose.
Resucitate you and then off you again just to chalk a duece.
I'll suck the juice outta your skull and then fill it with p***.
Like Jamie Oliver I'll have ya skinned and fillet the bits.
Then put you in a bowl for a starving, diseased old mutt.
But even he would sniff your whiff, nibble, then heave you up.


KingWhiz2005
I'll make you hot, cause you aint got any nice lines. I'll get oil,
Bake you in this pot, you'll get sliced, diced, fried and boiled.
Yo, Whiz, you're cooking on a spit, a meal fit for a King.
Funny, you're looking like a Queen. B****, git outta my ring.
Catch a glimpse of me and Whiz your pants, this kid's scared s***less.
Quips, they're witless. I'll slit you up by swinging a witness!


MPulsive
I beg your pardon, is that s*** you startin'? This winter, the printin' hardens.
Act my age? You're the one not smart enough to pass Kindergarten!
Can't understand what you're yelling or telling me cuz of spelling.
All I can decipher from your cyphers is that your s*** is smelling.
I only quote what you wrote cuz my pun-filled jokes and japes run off.
But it takes a darn age cuz there's so many mistakes to make fun of!
For Me To Poop on? It looks like you're the one in need of a diaper.
Red spots dotting your forehead, you're dead getting shot by this sniper.
So if you're feeling fly enough to reply, hire a typist.
Cuz I can't understand one hyperactive word... do you write ticked?

Repulsive b****, your a**crack's looking more black than a lunar eclipse,
With lubed-up hips you stuck in three black c***s... with two for your lips.
Just make like Lassie you crap wack cracker and go home, player.
My rhymes are as deep as mermaids? Well, yours are the ozone layer!
So they're full of holes... You're gullible if you think I watch porn,
Unless it's your mum with a torchlight for getting her crotch torn.
You 'never let a nice c*** tease ya?' That's cuz you love a bad boy.
...Or a fruit basket! Bananas, apples and other f** toys.
Come outta the closet because you love to c** in a sphincter.
Dude's rectums, you inspect 'em and then stick em until they stricture.
A silver tincture has been inked around the rim of your a**ehole.
That's the only aspect of your rap career that'll sparkle.

Man I've already shredded your dirty butt into confetti.
Let me head to a better competitor, noweight you aint heavy.
sheesh, I'll drop the bold cuz I pop it all. You're who I 'poop on'.
What a downer, I'll get round to the counter to refund my coupon.
Cuz you're worthless MPulsive, you name's losing it's chord.
Only good for one bout of amusement, now i'm just bored.
I'll slap your teeth in, bend you til I snap your knees, then
Colour you red with your blood so you look like Happy Tree Friends.

What the hell's up with this fella, you obsessive compulsive?
Using bold is getting old, just like yo mama, MPulsive.
When it comes to droppin' bombs you are hardly explosive.
And your verse's words don't burn. Man, they're hardly corrosive.
You're so repulsive that I've started to get these an impulses...
To stop your pulse with an old saw and start causin' convulsions!



MC Potty
Your flow eroded in your throat, cuz it's coated in c**.
Ayo, you downloaded the first scrotum-smokin' emoticon.
Loosen up, dawg, in this juicer get your body strained.
Your spotty training diaper hardly shows you're MC Potty trained.
I'll use karate canes on your teeth to critique your weak style.
Maybe then your tongue will have enough room to learn to freestyle


Disdain
Every s*** refrain you unchain gets spit-on in Disdain.
I'll chain whip this kid's brains out, then do it all again.
I'm excellent in thinkin sharp. Take half now, and then later the rest o' this.
Hexing your Linkin-Park-tape-raps razes your Abe's Exoddus.
Don't try and hide your rhyming demise with a Nib-like disguise.
If I had five million posts they still wouldn't comprise my d*** size.


Darth Maul
Darth Maul, get that face paint off your a**ehole.
I'll cleave you with a lightsabre, leaving you half-whole.
'Rather small' describes your balls, Star Wars geek.
You're weak and meek. I'll slap you like a whore's cheek.
Use the force, freak, while this Luke abuses farce.
B****, lose the mask. Unless you got the flu and SARS.

Darth, I'm sick to death from your breath of idle chatter.
Hell, evangelists could sidle up and bible bash ya.
Los Angeles is badgered by your stench malodorous.
So I must load your butt, with powder kegs to blow you up.
"A lyrically beast"? That don't make sense, you gimmicky b****.
You're a satirical feast for me, eating you up like lickety splitz.


David E.
You're misbehaving, David. Got a comeback? Save it,
Shave off any trace of flavour, then lower case it.
Prattle on with kettle black, hurry up and battle rap.
You've straddled a kayak up s*** creek without a paddle, chap.
I'm getting sick of ripping into fully-grown guys,
So it's time to hone rhymes, pick on someone my own size.
Oh great, a noweight whose slow japes and lame raps suck.
How can you fill a chest with caps if you aint got a Caps Lock?
Get f***ed, you suck, untuck your mask and lose the rock.
Goliath's here, prepare David to get smashed under my c***.


KrazedOut
KrazedOut, you're a waste of space, get fazed out.
You've raised doubt as to how you'll escape being chased out.
You'd get your a** kicked by Crips if they were crippled midgets,
About turn and leave... at least my post count is triple digits.
You're as welcome as a Britney album under Eminem's tree.
The outcome of your raps is seldom any more than empty.
First you say you don't want women here to linger around,
Then you begin to talk about c***s... I've got you figured out!


Night Walker
Yo, Night Walker, move aside, you're no tight talker.
My name's Luke, so expect a lightsabre slicing you like Skywalker.
I'm a bright sparkle, a white rapper, a right wry f***er.
So meet me down an alley walking at night... and you'll die, sucker.
By the way, you're meant to spit at least six lines minimum.
But I guess that's too much to ask from this wannabe Eminem.


Log
How is there pride in your name? Quit your rappin, dawg.
Look into a pirate's toilet, see the captain's Log.
You infested with insects? You're too simple to commit incest,
Yet your mother's thin legs and princess stomach arouse interest.
Inspect my rhyming style to inject it through your system.
Or just lay back and watch your sisters kissing as I fist em.


Illest Skill
Yeah, we know you got a d***. Make that several in your crevices.
If you can't manage 6 lines, we don't require your services.
The Illest Skill at d**do handling,
You swill your fill from gigolo sampling,
Pillow biter, mightcha have something worthy of spittin'?
I guess not b****, so get your t**s back into the kitchen.


Jd2the0g
jf2theag sucks more than a vacuum bag's amount.
You have to add at least six lines, dag... or can't this f** count?
His avatar is peeking through the glass pane of the window.
I'll open it and kick his a** splatting to the pavement below.
Can't get blander with his style, man. Caincha try bustin' loose?
Have a Gander at his rhymes, they're straight out of Mother Goose.


BluMami
I'ma smack your fatty a** til it's black and blue, mami.
Or pay a pack of disabled Asian ladies to do it for me.
The only Recognition is you as a wannabe R. Kelly.
A reignition of your sex drive with a girl and her dolly.
You hurled and were smelly. Get away from the microphone.
You've failed to rhyme so many times that now you're like a clone.
So hike off, clown. 'less you want me to hack you up.
Then take you down, for pissing around and actin' up.
A rapper? Nup. Your wrapper gets tossed in the rubbish can.
On my lap, you lap up every word... You love this, man.


Vertikle
Dirty-a** Vertikle, how can you talk about embarrassment,
When your garish scent is cause for being charged with self-harrassment.
Your odour is what's drifting our way.
Cuz a load o' s*** is all you're swift enough to say.
You're only 'Here 2 Destroy' yourself,
Cuz flapping those lips emits a stench that's bad for your health.
What a reek! No freak would ever have the gall to stomach it.
When you breath leaks, even your avatar's dead from it!

PillBoy
I don't know about your nation, but in Australia.
Misspelling 'pronunciation' means you aint got genitalia.
Don't worry, you'll only have to hear my voice once in your life.
Just before you learn the true meaning of 'That's not a knife'.
Accents cause strife. Just like a self-contradiction.
How can you say I love the pussy AND be gay, with conviction?
Your diction's airy so resort to a dictionary
...Look up your photo at the definition of 'fairy'.
The only point you get across is a decimal one.
A special display that shows the worth of your abysmal puns.
We got a word for nerd twerps who like c**-filled joy.
And it just happens that your name is the one: Pillboy!

OK, I admit it, I'm currently on Pillboys d***.
...His d*** is on the floor and I'm stampin' all over it.
I didn't forget you, moron. You're attackin' in vain.
Hell, your ugly a** has burned an image in the back of my brain!
So I'm like an elephant here, "I'm never forgettin'."
That's the elegant message left on your grave, where I'm spittin'.
I don't have a white flag, it's all dotted and splotched.
Cuz I'm left cleaning up after all of your horrible slop.

Only way you're an elephant is because of your weight.
So you aint fly... wait... dang, my f***ing puns are so great.
The only reason the world's rotating USA like a lavatory,
Is because your flabby a** has it's own center of gravity!
Yo, what's the matter G? Quit hiding your undying flattery.
Pro-US strategy results in a bad taste like 'salt and battery'.
And I think you mixed up the message you're tryin to push.
I don't love America... this Australian just loves the bush!

Watch this wicked word wizard do a scary hat trick.
I guess you aint bad either... for a geriatric!
Incompetent? Get out. You're incontinent in the bowels.
I competently clown these constinants and vowels.
Kudos shared around Pillboy, don't be fronting and be foul,
And imply that this Aussie would ever wanna throw in the towel.





The only street cred you spread is that your head is edible.
Your bod's a blob like the Hulk... but you aint Incredible.
Pillboy is 52 cards short of a full deck.
Is it really so hard, dork, to click on a spellcheck?
You couldn't give out pain if you were dropped in a melee.
How can you live by your name... when you get popped daily?

As if this wasn't already sugar coated as a Magnum,
Look what the darn f***** cat just dragged in.
Listen Pillboy, you obviously want to live up...
To your label of Down Syndrome kid. You never give up.
I would rather watch some TV static scratching and flickering
Than get back to battlin' you as you are rappin and bickering.


Pussy
Who calls themselves Pussy? What are you freak, deaf?
As for what you issued just then... Double-yoo Tee Eff?!
If I cracked your head open, Pillboy would come spillin out.
Your rhymes are flat-chested... and they aint fillin out.
Yell n shout, as much as you want, you've a lameass moniker.
And would you quit spitting all that s***ty gay erotica?


SylentJay
Sylent J, it's probably been a while (a day?)
Since someone dialed up japing that you're Silent Gay.
You on your period, Crampton? Here, have a tampon.
That should help your damp underpants and stop the crampin'.
Yo, I may be seventeen but I'm in university.
Unlike you, I'm clever, mean and I spit with diversity.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 07/08/05 at 9:54 pm

Reap The Wind

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/Death.jpg

The newborn's shriek rents through the air, the start of life with breath.
Half blind and naked to the glaring from the scythe of Death.
A darkened shadow lingers, looming over the young child.
And beckons with a finger, crooked as a toothless smile.

Long tattered robes of black undulate in the frozen breeze.
The child's throat attacked by silent whispers of disease.
A heartbeat, soft and fragile as an eggshell, starts to crack.
An unsweet perfumed zephyr wafts forever into black.

The newborn's shriek rents through the air; a final grisly rasp.
As pulse falls weaker, soul ensnared, the child is in his grasp.
The sands of Time keep trickling as darkness creeps within.
Death stands out in an empty field and starts to reap the wind.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 07/22/05 at 9:43 pm

The Lone Wolf

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/LoneWolf.jpg

The moon sits perched atop a silent breeze
A stony glowing orb of waning grey
Amidst the silhouettes of naked trees
The lone wolf tears the heart out of his prey
Emaciated pelt of tattered threads
With age-old wounds infected, gleaming raw 
Swift jaws of carnage snap up flesh in shreds
His muzzle hot with matted sanguine gore
The final scrap of sinew meets his lips
And trickles slowly down the lone wolf’s throat
The forest floor is marred with fur and drips
So isolated, bare and dark, remote
The lone wolf howls his sullen empty cry
Unanswered, bar an echo from the sky

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 07/25/05 at 4:28 am

The Capital of Zimbabwe

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/Map.bmp

Djibouti's the capital of Djibouti.
Luxembourg's the capital of Luxemborg.
San Marino's the capital of San Marino.
Singapore's the capital of Singapore.

But what's the capital city of Zimbabwe?
Is it…

Conakry, Banjul,
Tashkent, Kabul,
Noukachott, Palikir,
Pyongyang or Algiers?

Chisinau, Majuro,
Quito, Yamoussoukro,
Paramaribo, Colombo
Maputo or Monaco?

Athens, Bridgetown,
Hanoi, Kingstown,
Port Moresby, Cape Town,
Georgetown or Freetown?

Addis Ababa, Ankara,
Bratislava, Honiara,
Accra, Tegucigalpa,
Jakarta or Kampala?

Brussels, Libreville,
Yaounde, Brazzaville,
Beijing, Buenos Aires,
Bern, Seoul or Paris?

theeran, Abidjan,
Tirane, Belmopan,
Amman, Yerevan,
Darussalam-Bandar-Seri-Begawan?

Valletta, Basseterre,
N'Djamena, Canberra,
Prague, Andorra la Vella,
Dar es Salaam or Vienna?

Luanda, Dhaka,
Asmara, Lusaka,
Dakar, Astana,
Manama or Havana?

Porto-Novo, Sarajevo,
Cairo, Antananarivo,
Montevideo, Bissau,
Santo Domingo or Roseau?

Panama City, Lome,
Guatemala City, Rome,
Mexico City, Stockholm,
Kuwait City or Sao Tome?

Zagreb, Baku,
Kiev, Thimphu,
Ougadougou, Vilnius,
Mogadishu or Tunis?

Ottawa, Ljubljana,
Tarawa, Sana,
Tokyo, Oslo,
Malabo or Moscow?

Maseru, Sucre,
Kathmandu, Suva,
Castries, Abuja,
Madrid or Bujumbura?

Gabotone, Brasilia,
Nassau, Port Vila,
Manila, Nicosia,
Praia or Monrovia?

Sofia, Riga,
Apia, Lima,
El Aaiun, Apia,
Belgrade or Victoria?

St George's, Bamako,
St John's, Santiago,
Managua, Port au Prince,
Bujumbura or Minsk?

Copenhagen, Kingston,
Skopje, Lisbon,
Berlin, Phnom Penh,
Dublin or Yaren?

Nairobi, Bangui,
Moroni, Port Louis,
Tripoli, Bogota,
Kigali or Doha?

New Delhi, Lilongwe,
Khartoum, San Jose,
Tbilisi, Taipei,
Helsinki or Washington DC?

Nuku'alofa, Islamabad,
Ashgabat, Baghdad,
Riyadh, Muscat,
Rangoon or Rabat?

Abu Dahbi, San Salvador,
Dushanbe, Kuala Lumpur,
Mbabane, Ulan Bator,
Koror or Warsaw?

Niamey, Bucharest,
Vientiane, Budapest,
Port of Spain, Caracas,
Male or Damascus?

Beirut, Reykjavik,
Vaduz, Winhoek,
Bishkek, Jerusalem,
Bangkok or Amsterdam?

Tallin, Asuncion,
Wellington, London,
The Democratic Republic of the Kinshasa…?
NO! It's Harare!

Harare!
(Hoorah!)
Harare!
(Hoorah!)
Harare!
(Hoorah!)
HARARE!!!

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/05/05 at 12:48 am

Ice Maiden

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/Teardrops.jpg

A lone soul perched at the top of a wind-tossed peak
Lost and weak. Her frozen throat too hoarse to speak
A lifeless statue, as if carved out of solid ice
With swollen eyes. Blinded from her squalid life
Across the sea screeches out a frosted breeze
Exhaustion causes her at last to drop to her knees
Wheeze and strain, she breathes bane through the freezing rain
No way to ease the pain, just seas of screaming pain
Numb hands fumble through wet grains of glum sand
Young lamb gone astray and none understand
Waves crash on the crag in a splash of passion
As sleet lashes her ashen face apart with gashes
Lines splice her cheeks like slices of violence
Night sky cries but her mind's iced in silence
Baptized in wildness. Storm roars a deathly pour
On unsmiling eyelids. A soul torn apart, left raw
Self-war strips her brittle core into fine shreds
As more past horrors claw at the inside of her head
Ice maiden. Face hazed in the fog, eyes glazing
In a crazed blizzard that's ablaze and raging
Stony stare stalks the savage sea and rocks below
Chalk-white soul walks forth through the fog and snow
Locked in a pause that lasts an eternity
She yearns to be free from her life's burning freeze
Her white toes reach the cliff edge above the ocean
A life floating on shivered wisps of emotion
But the storm ceases in a blessed moment of epiphany
A single ray of sunlight kissing her in love infinity
Melting the ice maiden's frosty stare, her icy anguish stops
She overlooks the new sunrise, smiling an ocean of teardrops.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/10/05 at 1:17 am

Pleiade: Creeping Butterfly

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/Butterfly.jpg

Chrysalis hangs quivering in delicate wind.
Chromatic life spills forth, tumbling from within.
Coloured angel spreads her ethereal wings.
Carefree, alive, she dances, sings.
Caught beneath the cruel heel of time.
Crushed, her wings of sparkling rhyme.
Continues crawling, climbing, fallen angel once divine.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/12/05 at 1:19 am

WARNING: Censored profanity, sexual references and crude humour.

Hairy Potted and the Philanderer's Stein quotes.

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/iPotter.jpg

CHAPTER ONE

Vermin Parsley was a large, sweaty man with less neck than Marie-Antoinette, although almost as much moustache. His wife, Peculiar, was thin with a rather long neck, which got her into a right bit of trouble when she fell into the giraffe pen at the local zoo during mating season.

We now begin our story of Hairy Potted; and how his triumphs over evil metaphorically represent the world of professional bocci.

That night, the evening news predicted scattered meteor showers, a warm front of broomsticks sweeping in from the west and, predictably for England, rain.

The Parsleys lay Dullard to bed in his ruby-encrusted cot, then herded up the remaining orphans into their cellar, generously tossing in a few extra bales of hay for warmth. Soon enough, Vermin and Peculiar were fast asleep, reducing speed for dream bumps and the occasional nightmare pedestrian.

Fumbling awkwardly up the dark street, the geriatric fool bumped into several trees, loudly topple over a collection of trash cans and set off a security alarm, all in the name of an utterly inconspicuous entrance into the novel. He stopped at the front of number four thousand and two where a large, vandalised plaque on the front gates read:
P A R S L E Y   O R P H A N A G E S
F O R  U N L U C K Y  Y O U T H.
Dumbodork rolled his eyes, getting a pair of threes.

At this, Haggis slowly removed a crumpled bundle of cloth from his jacket. A tiny head peeped out from underneath, wearing a red cap with an 'M' insignia.
"Letsa go! Yipee!" the infant chirped. Dumbodork's left eyebrow raised.
"Whoops, I got this little 'un orf a Yoshi down the pub!"

"He'll have that scab for ever." Dumbodork murmured quietly, taking the child in his arms. "Just like the one I got when I attempted that spell to increase the length of my-" He paused, blushed and turned around to mask his blurted embarrassment.

"Well, I think it's time to let him go." Profaner MuckGonadal suggested. Dumbodork nodded, shaking a small shower of dandruff over baby Hairy.
"Yes. We'd best be off celebrating while we leave this infant unprotected on a doorstep in the cold of the night where he is exposed for night predators to attack him."

"Farewell, Hairy Potted... until we meet again" whispered Dumbodork. He stood up, hitting his head on a lamp post. Cursing, he gave a swish of his tutu, exposing his privates, and he'd vanished.


CHAPTER TWO

Over a matter of turning the page, a decade has passed in this story. Things had barely changed at all in 4002 Privates Drive; except for climate, size, smell, appearance and other trivial matters.

As usual, Hairy was ordered to lay the table; he cursed his poultry genetics which enabled him to pass gueridons through his bowels after having eaten planks of wood.

Unco Vermin turned away, permitting a grin to slyly appear on Hairy's face. Mrs Parsley had already given him the very same punishment for impregnating her lingerie catalogue.

Hairy was having the time of his life at the petting zoo, apart from not being able to see the giraffes for some odd reason of Ant Peculiar's.

Mr and Mrs Parsley were too occupied with the other orphans, who were greedily eating flaccid vegetable scraps from the sheep's trough.

Once they had returned home, Mr Parsley turned straight to Hairy with a menacing scowl, bending down face-to-face.
"Go - cupboard - stay - no dinner - unable to -  string together - coherent - sentences."

A poorly aimed jab with a catling by a slightly irate dentist had left Hairy with the 'L'-shaped scab across his forehead. Sometimes, when Hairy strained his memory, he envisioned a flash of green and a burning pain in his head... though this may have been a recollection of getting brain freeze from a big lime Slushy.


CHAPTER THREE

"Check the mail, Dullard." grunted Mr Parsley.
"Make Hairy do it." whined Dullard.
"Check the mail, Hairy." grunted Mr Parsley.
"Make Kevin do it." retorted Hairy.
Unco Vermin looked up from his paper.
"Who the hell is Kevin?" he bellowed. The family all turned to observe a scrawny boy  in a wheelchair bobbing up and down excitedly in the middle of the room.
"I like cheese! I like cheese!" chirped Kevin, waving a large chunk of cheddar about.

Hairy stood up.
"I want to read my-" he began, but the letter had already been tossed into the microwave, the paper curling up at the corners as it caught alight, gradually exposing a golden ring inside of the envelope with Elvish writing engraved… oh, wrong story.

And so they drove. They drove afar.
They drove inside their little car.
The little car along the road.
They drove and drove and drove and drove.
The road was long, the road was black.
Mr Parsley doubled back.
'They should be easy enough to fool.'
He muttered, driving to the pool.

'Three minutes till I'm eleven.' Hairy thought to himself.
'Two minutes... one minute... half a minute... a sixth of a minute... seven-sixtieths of a minute... pi-eighty-fifths of a minute...


CHAPTER FOUR

Haggis started counting bricks with his cane.
"Now, wha' was it? Two up, four across... no wait, three up and... oh, screw it!"
At this, the gigantic man arched up and swung his fat at the wall. With a loud smash, the bricks shattered and crumbled away to expose a small pathway leading to a wide cobbled street.
"Welcome," Haggis said to Hairy. "To Diaphragm Gully."


CHAPTER FIVE

The vault door melted away to expose a small package wrapped in toilet paper in the centre of the dark cell. Hairy's brow furrowed.
"Hey, where's that spotlight coming from, and all that orchestral music?"

Mr Olivespandex turned to Haggis.
"Ahh, Rubicund! I remember when you first came to me! Quite large, if memory serves me right: twenty inches, rather plump, with several strands of ogre pubes." Haggis screwed up his face in confusion.
"Almost righ', but I was bigger 'n twen'y inches!" he said.

"Here, Potted, try this one." Hairy was handed a celery rod, twelve inches long, harbouring the uteral lining of a mermaid.


CHAPTER SIX

"Righ' yeh tiny-to's, le's ge' inter them bins an' row the the oth'r side, eh ickle 'uns!" boomed Haggis. The group of freshmen stared gapingly at this indecipherable sentence. Haggis cleared his throat and tried again.
"I imploringly beseech those of you among the chronologically-challenged to accompany myself to a location fit for boarding aqueous vessels, as means of locomotion to the opposing shore." The group of freshmen stared gapingly at this indecipherable sentence.


CHAPTER SEVEN

Hormoany was having a trivial chat with Teen Dum-bass.
"Yes, I also believe that Albert Einstein's theory is obsolete, as light now takes longer to travel through space-time due to universal expansion." Rum, however, was  deeply involved in a scintillating discussion with one of his Siamese-twin brothers, Gorge.
"Wanna see Frig and I fart and burp at the same time?"

The man had slick black hair, devil horns and a forked tail. Suddenly, he turned and his eyes locked onto Hairy's. A sharp pain shot through Hairy's scab.
"Whoops, sorry!" said Rum, removing his fork from Hairy's head.


CHAPTER EIGHT

"Now, class, Poachings is a subject in which you will learn how to poach magical brews. However, it will take many years to master poachings for deluding the mind, concoctions for cheating death and sedatives that can be slipped to unsuspecting female students during tutorial classes, rendering them vuln..." Snoop stopped abruptly and looked up, as if just realising there were other people in the room.

Profaner Snoop deducted ten points from Graafiandor for Hairy not leaping from the other side of the room to stop Nibble adding the porcupine ovaries prematurely.

Haggis continued to babble evasively, turning his gaze as far away as possible in order to avoid Hairy's eyes. Soon, his neck had completed a half-revolution. Rum exchanged looks of suspicion with Hairy and the two got up to leave.
"See yez later!" Haggis called, his head facing in the opposite direction.


CHAPTER NINE

Nibble Lungbuttock unwrapped the package.
"Cool, a Remembrmost... they help you recll anything you might have frgttn!"

Hairy found Oldliver Would's accent about as decipherable as Haggis yodelling with a mouthful of cookie dough.

"Lungbuttock? What are you doing out so late?" whispered Hairy frantically.
"Well, Ginger said she'd meet me down here to show off her new leather-" Nibble's reply was abruptly cut off, however, as Hormoany broke a urinal over his head. A look of understanding suddenly dawned on his blood-spattered face.
"Erm, I mean... forgot the password again."

Mr Belch sped around the corner.
"I distinctively heard the sound of adolescent breasts!" he hissed to his pet cougar, Mrs Notorious. Belch sniffed the air with his large, hairy nostrils.
"Yep. Fresh mammaries... young caucasian female... B-cup..." He sniffed again.
"...with traces of male saliva." he added. Hormoany began to whistle innocently.

"Well that settles that." Hormoany replied. "If you don't mind, I need my beauty sleep. I hope you don't have any other plans to get us all killed, or worse: make us infertile!"

Hairy lay awake, his mind ticking over. Haggis had swallowed the secret bundle for safe-keeping inside his enormous gut, and the vault where he had got it from had been broken into just after. As Haggis had been taking daily laxatives since their visit to Gangrene's, Hairy made a mental note to closely monitor Haggis' bowel movement over the following weeks, to discover what the secret parcel was, once ejected.
...thinking twice, he cancelled this mental note.


CHAPTER TEN

Profaner Flipwit looked up at Drachma.
"Actually, Master Malformed, Potted is quite within his rights to own a vacuum-cleaner in his first year to play Spinach. I could only confiscate it if he used it for... reasons you will learn of when you're older..."

With a blinding flash, Helpful Beaver appeared.
"Helpful Beaver to the rescue!" the pudgy rodent chanted. It began felling several large trees that were somehow growing inside Hairy's dormitory. Within minutes, a sizeable dam had been constructed in Hairy's doorway.

The multicoloured castor turned to leave, but Rum grabbed hold of the flowing yellow cape.
"Wait, Helpful Beaver! Will we ever see you again?" sobbed Rum tearfully. Helpful Beaver stood atop his newly-built dam as a beaming spotlight shimmered behind him.
"Though I leave now, know this: Wherever people are in distress, whenever there is injustice in the world, Helpful Beaver will be there!"

"You're Graafiandor's best Peeker since your father!" said Gorge. Hairy stopped mid-chew.
"My dad was Peeker?" he asked incredulously.
"Of course! It's in your genes!" replied Frig, before the two Bleaters got up and trundled off to dorm. Having only had a rudimentary scientific education, Hairy was quite baffled at this comment, suspicious at what exactly the 'gift' was in his jeans.

Hairy heard screams from the girls' lavatory and followed Rum inside to find Hormoany cowering on the floor beneath a giant Ahnold troll.
"Confuse it!" yelled Rum. He picked up a chunk of debris and threw it hard at the Austrian behemoth. It hit Hormoany.

From that night on, Hairy, Hormoany and Rum were the best of friends. There are some things that you can't share without ending up liking each other; and fighting off a giant foreign over-the-hill actor-turned-politician-whose-name-has-been-changed-to-conceal-his-identity was one of them.


CHAPTER ELEVEN

"What's up with Snoop's limp?" asked Rum.
"Hope it's not gonorrhoea." Hormoany muttered.

Rum snapped a plastic glove over his hand and carefully lifted the back of Hairy's frilly tutu. Reaching deep inside, he pulled something from out of Hairy's behind. Hormoany gave a squeak of excitement.
"The Baldin' Snatch! Hairy caught it in his butt-cheeks as he was falling!"


CHAPTER TWELVE

Hairy unwrapped the present, revealing a hand-carved set of bagpipes. Hairy blew into them. A hollow hoot sounded, resembling that of a retarded parrot. Hodwog fluttered down from his perch and started chatting up the tartan instrument.

As Snoop drew closer and closer to the aisle where Hairy was crouched, a moment of inspiration occurred. Hairy tossed the book in his hand in the opposing direction as a diversion. The novel spiralled through an open window, across to Graafiandor tower, in through another open window... and hit Hormoany.


CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Nibble plucked out the chintzy collector's disc.
"Hey Hairy, have you got the Dumbodork one yet?" Hairy's POV travelled from Nibble's pudgy face to an extreme close-up of the Dumbodork card. Dissonant violin chords wavered as we zoomed into Hairy's expression.
"Nickelass Flannel! I knew I'd seen Nickelass Flannel's name before!" Hairy shouted excitedly. Hormoany and Rum looked up at each other and slapped their foreheads at how stupid they had been.
"Of course! He's on the back of the Dumbodork disc!" said Rum. Hairy blinked.
"Oh... yeah... but I was referring to that." Hairy motioned to a gigantic portrait of Nickelass Flannel towering over the Graafiandor Cummin Room.

"It is nice to see you have kept your butt away from The Mirage of Ereirred."

Profaner Quibble stood there moronically, thinking up synonyms for 'fez'.


CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Haggis offered them a mug of tea, which they each drank with a fork and hatchet.

"It also says here that they grow up to forty metres in length and can breathe fire within a matter of weeks." said Hairy.
"Haggis, you live in a wooden shelter." said Rum.
"Surrounded by several acres of dry grass and forest." added Hormoany.
"Not to mention the thirty tanks of flammable gas that Dumbodork had dumped in your garden!"

"My brother Gnarly works with dragons in Pyromania." said Rum.


CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Quit saying his name!" she hissed.
"Who's? Vulvamork's?" replied Hairy dull-wittedly.


CHAPTER SIXTEEN
At this, Profaner Snoop began cackling malevolently into Hairy's face. He turned with a swish of his tutu, still laughing maniacally, as the hem caught around his neck. Snoop struggled with it for a moment, bashing into a nearby pillar before overbalancing and toppling over the balcony into a pile of elephant dung two storeys below. After Snoop had spat out a mouthful of proboscidean faeces, there was a slight pause before his evil laughter started up once more.

The narrator slapped Rum across the face with a lantern.

"Oh no!" moaned Rum. "We haven't got an instrument to play!" he said, punching the wall in frustration, then wincing in pain. Hormoany gave an audible cough.
"Actually, we do. I borrowed Hairy's bagpipes for band camp practise..." She withdrew a large tangle of tartan and pipe from underneath her skirt. The boys ogled.
"Erm, Hormoany, I think you should play it!" muttered Hairy.

"Helpful Beaver to the rescue!" chanted Helpful Beaver.
"Jeepers, Helpful Beaver! A call of distress!" cried the caped Assisting Capybara.
"What appears to be the problem? Do you need another dam built?" asked Helpful Beaver, beginning to fell a few nearby elm trees.
"Ah, no, actually, we just need you to download us into…" Hairy trailed off. The caped Assisting Capybara had whipped out a metallic device of some sort.
"Leapin' lizards, Helpful Beaver! We need to work double-time! Tally ho!" he chirped, using his gnawing abilities to bring down the remaining trunks. Hairy sighed.

Helpful Beaver and the caped Assisting Capybara stood atop the giant dam they had just manufactured, leading out through the Crapdoor. A gleaming illumination radiated from behind them.
"Well, caped Assisting Capybara," began Helpful Beaver. "I guess we have once again foiled the powers of-" At that moment, Buttfluff descended down through the Crapdoor and tore off Helpful Beaver's head. The caped Assisting Capybara screamed in terror.
"Jumpin' jackrabbits!" Helpful Beaver was soon a pile of bloody shreds, as Buttfluff violently gorged down chunks of his raw flesh before turning on the remaining rodent. A bloodcurdling scream fell on deaf ears as Hairy, Rum and Hormoany arrived at their new destination

Choose, unless you wish to stay in here for evermore,
Until we finish this lame series up to number four.
These clues are sly and sneaky in revealing which is what,
So read them many times through 'til the answer you have got.
Firstly, the deadly viruses are the three in the middle,
The Macon wines are at the end, for you to wet your whistle.
The stein to get you forwards is the second from the right,
And second from the left returns all others from this plight.

Hairy crept down a dimly lit flight of stairs into a large room at the bottom. Someone was there, it wasn't Snoop or even Vulvamork… it was Haggis.


CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Haggis' flabby butt cheeks hung over the sides of a large chamber pot as he strained to excrete the Philanderer's Stein

"What do you see?" hissed Quibble.
"Err… a carrot!" said Hairy off the top of his head. "And it's got... some... cheese." Quibble eyed Hairy with an odd look.

Profaner Quibble began slowly removing his fez. Second after second, the fez was drawn back to dramatically reveal... his hair!
"Phew! That's better! My head was getting hot in this stuffy room." said Quibble. Suddenly, a horrific voice called out.
"Hairy Potted, I will now meet you face to face!" the voice rasped. Hairy backed away, looking for a way to escape..
"Now, Quibble! I am ready to face him!" Quibble lifted up his tutu… and flashed Potted.
"Sweet merciful crap!" screamed Hairy. Right where Quibble should have had… an appendage... was Nerd Vulvamork's head. It was chalk white, with bulging eyes, a jagged mouth and slits for nostrils... similar to the grotesquery of Michael Jackson's current visage.

With his last ounce of remaining strength, Profaner Quibble looked up from where he lay on the floor, a forest of flowers dancing on his head. He wore an expression of sombrero pride, of ruthless flowers, of raven terror- of incest and Popeless despatch.
He looked back through the pages of time travel gone wrong, of endless references to excrement and cheese... The man cried out twice, a cry no more than a whisper:
"The terror! The terror!"

Hairy was interrupted by a seagull regurgitating into a deodorant can .

Dumbodork cleared his throat, a fleck of oesophagus slime cartwheeling across the room.

"So, after all the fricking trouble we went to…" began Hormoany coldly.
"Risking our fricking lives to save the fricking Philanderer's Stein from the hands of the most powerful fricking villain in the fricking world…" continued Rum icily.
"Those fricking fools decide to DESTROY THE FRICKING THING?!" they screamed in unison. As the three Graafiandors stood panting with suppressed fury. Kevin slowly wheeled his way up from the Forbidding Forest, in through the Entranced Hall, along the wheelchair-access ramp up to the sick bay and stopped alongside the protagonists.
"I like cheese!" he said, before wheeling back out of sick bay, down the wheelchair-access ramp, out of the Entranced Hall and into the Forbidding Forest again. 

"Graafiandor loses all of their points." It was silent with shock as the Graafiandor thermometer, which had just shot up from a giant hole in the soil, emptied down to ground level. Dumbodork continued on without a wink.
"To add to this, it was poor school spirit when certain students had lost three million points. Hence, all students who partook in any jeering will lose all the points that you may have earned throughout the year." The Silverys, Ravercorks and Hecklepucks gaped in flabbergasted awe as the jelly crystals emptied out from their own  thermometers. The final result was zero to all, except… one point to Hecklepuck.
"It appears that the retard Kevin was the only one who didn't engage in this despicable behaviour." said Dumbodork. All eyes turned to Kevin, who was currently wearing his plate as a hat and balancing a number of cheeses atop it.

Waiting at the station was Mrs Weakly. She ran up past Rum, ignoring him completely, and embraced Hairy in a big bear hug.

As Hairy lay back to ease the pain of the bumpy road on his sore body, he felt a crumpled scroll of toilet paper in his pocket. Unfolding it with difficulty in the cramped space of the car boot, Hairy held up the slip of greasy tissue to a ray of sunlight that was streaming through a hole caused by rust. He read it aloud:
'I like cheese.'
A warm feeling filled his insides and Hairy knew that everything was going to be fine.
But even so, he would have to wait a mighty long time until his next year at Dogfarts Institute of Wizardry and Weird Plots, but he had to, so he did...
...wait.
Yep.
...yep yep.
He waited and waited...
...aaand waited.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/12/05 at 1:32 am

WARNING: Censored profanity, sexual references and crude humour.

Hairy Potted and the Changer of Sequins quotes

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/HairyPounce.bmp

--CHAPTER ONE--

Once upon a time, a magical elephantorous lived on a hill. He died.

Not for the first time, a prisoner had broken out of his low-security cell. An argument had also broken out at the local lighthouse, current residence of the Parsley Orphanage For Unlucky Youth. Having been unable to swim back to land after Hairy and Haggis had stolen their canoe, the Parsleys had simply remained living for the past year in a lighthouse located in the middle of the town pool.

In order to rescue his luggage and flatulent pet parrot, Hairy had needed the assistance of a gas bomb he had purchased from e-bay, two hundred metres of dental floss and the assistance of a geriatric walrus on a bulldozer. The bulldozer was still parked out on the lawn. Hairy looked at it and thought 'yellow' before being brought back to reality by Ant Peculiar cuffing his head.

"He's frightened of the wallpaper! You know his feelings on sub-automatic artillery!"

The twenty-two other nameless orphans were on the ground ferreting about for dropped grain.
"Eat up, sweetums," cooed Ant Peculiar, dolloping a kilogram of mayonnaise onto Dullard's enormous plate. The tubby teenager's mouth opened as wide as a bucket and he manoeuvered his head across the table, gorging plate and all .

"Never went hungry when I was at Smellings!" Mr Parsley pronounced proudly, casting a reminiscent glance at a photograph on the wall showing a young Vermin sporting a large Afro and adorned in matching flares and orthodontic headgear.

Dullard's figure was so large that when he sat AROUND the table, he really... ate a lot.

"…Dogfarts." Answered Hairy. The effect of this simple sentence had a drastic effect. For, you see, the flutter of his tongue blew across the room, out past the window and across the ocean, resulting in a tornado in Japan, killing hundreds. Moreover, Unco Vermin had abruptly broke off from his tantric yoga exercises and was advancing towards Hairy like a rhino on heat.
"WHAT HAVE I SAID ABOUT USING THE 'DF' WORD IN OUR HOUSEHOLD?" he yelled furiously. Hairy blinked.
"What? Donkey Fuc-?" he began.
"YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!" Mr Parsley bellowed.

Hairy Potted was not a normal boy. In fact, he was about as abnormal as it is possible to be… Hairy was a girl.

Hairy Potted had lived at the Parsley Orphanage For Unlucky Youth ever since he was a baby, as Nerd Vulvamork… oh, come on, you should know this all by now. I mean, are you really stupid enough to read the sequel before the first of the series?

Unco Vermin cleared his throat. This required a towel wrapped around a stick being shoved down his oesophagus.

"Dog gone!" he exclaimed, hosing off the canine guts and hair that were caking his legs with blood.

Hairy had always found his fort in the backyard as a place of solace, he had often retreated into it to brood ever since finding it on the side of the road during council clean-up week. Mr Parsley kept insisting that it was not somebody's rubbish left on the side of the road, but a bus shelter, but Hairy simply turned a deaf ear.

He tirelessly painted the garden, mulched the tool shed, pedicured the windows, mowed the swimming pool and re-chlorinated the lighthouse roof.

"Hodwog! Those newspapers aren't for reading!" scowled Hairy, elbow-deep in guano.

"What a loser!" Dullard said, a twisted smiled on his chubby face. Unco Vermin and Ant Peculiar grinned. The three then simultaneously chuckled. Their laughs got louder and developed into guffaws. Soon they were all cackling at Hairy at the top of their lungs, their hair dancing about merrily at his expense. Hairy crunched his dry noodles in withdrawn silence.


--CHAPTER TWO--

The front doorbell sounded the mating call of the polar bear.

Hodwog's heap of viscous ordure disappeared in a flash of carcinogenic radiation.

The tiny creature leapt onto Hairy and gave him a hug, secretly pinching his wallet.

Ant Peculiar could be heard above, coaxing the guests to join her in a game of Twister.

"Dodgy has never been told to sit in a fresh pile of crap... like an equal!" he sobbed.

Hairy frowned again. He felt like this was a highly frownable paragraph.

"Hairy Potted, you truly are a great wizard!" said Dodgy, his breast implants bobbing up and down in unison with his head.
"I'm not that good, I mean, Hormoany's much better at-" Hairy stopped. Having had been snubbed for the past few weeks, thinking about Hormoany was painful.
"And Rum can do-" Hairy stopped. Having had been snubbed for the past few weeks, thinking about Rum was painful. To take his mind off how his best two friends had been avoiding him, Hairy sat down on Hodwog's cage. He stopped. After such a long time with a soft buttocks, seating himself on the sharp tip of a wire cage was painful.

Hairy knelt down closer to hear. Hodwog rolled his cage along the floor to a better vantage point. Gavin popped up out of a sewage pipe and listened in, too.

"If Hairy Potted goes to Dogfarts... he will encounter sexual fetishes and excessive profanity among the incorporation of detailed gross bodily functions!" piped Dodgy, engaging in wanton troilism and coprophilia with two sapphic passers-by, whilst lactating from his bulbous breasts.

"Keep it down, Potted! You just ruined my politically-incorrect joke involving the World Trade Centre and Geri Halliwell!" Mr Parsley cuffed Hairy's head with a rubber duck and strode back upstairs.

"Have you been stealing my socks?!" Hairy roared. Dodgy raised an eyebrow.
"Erm, no... Dodgy has been stealing all the birch whips from your friends." said the house-imp. Hairy faltered.
"Oh, you know what I mean! Socks, letters… tom-ay-to, pot-ar-to!" Dodgy kept his eyebrow raised..

The margarine statue of Buddha was swiftly flung up to the very roof of the lighthouse, stuck to the ceiling upside-down in a pose of deep meditation.

The man looked from Hairy to Dodgy to Mrs Parsley on the floor with the deceased camel. His gaze slowly moved upwards to the giant Buddha above his head. At that precise moment, the suction holding the margarine to the ceiling gave in to gravity.

"Doe, a deer, a female Dear Hairy Potted,
We detected a 'Last Glob Of Margarine' Cleaning Charm at your residence precisely fourteen and a half seconds past eight twenty two. Wizard minors are forbidden to use  sorcery in the presence of Muffins at the risk of being forced to repeat the same old tricks for decades on end. (David Copperfield Muffin Decree, 1992, Section B: 'Siegfried and Roy.')
Yours since merely, Maffled Popsmirk.

Unco Vermin's face went from celadon to magenta to a mottled cerulean within a matter of seconds.

He leered maniacally at Hairy, a wild glint in his eye. Then he giggled. Then he chuckled. This slowly became a thunderous chortling of mirth as he dragged Hairy away.

Hairy found the following moments a blur of sprinting up stairs whilst dodging bullets from the SWAT team and helicopter circling around the building… all too soon Hairy found himself spread-eagled ontop of the lighthouse with thousands of silhouette people below, the freezing rain pelting his body as searing spotlights blazed over his body. The last words he heard were "HAIRY POTTED, THROW YOUR MISTEMPERED BATON TO THE GROUND!"
   

--CHAPTER THREE--

A gangly, orange-haired someone was smiling at him through a large hole in the glass.
"Yahoo Serious?!" blurted Hairy.

The guano pile exploded with a loud bang, splattering them all with white muck. Sheriff Raff coughed from the room next to Hairy's cell. Frig and Gorge lowered Hairy's suitcase into the van with a thump. In the next room, Sheriff Raff gave a grunt. Hairy followed Rum into the van and slammed the door. Sheriff Raff hiccuped, urinated, burped, farted, quoted the entire works of Shakespears and vomited up his dudoenum.

"See you next year!" called Hairy. The Weaklys didn't roar with laughter, as it wasn't at all funny.
"See you next year, ya f***ing pounce!" called Hairy. The Weaklys roared with laughter, for, as we all know, crude profanity is a satisfying substitute for actual wit.

And so they rode, beneath the ground.
They rode their Kombi, homeward bound.
With purple, green and psychedelic,
Tones of spray paint on the relic .
They drilled underneath roads and plains.
They drilled through almost all terrains.
The van ploughed earth like no tomorrow,
As they all headed for The Furrow.

Frig dodged a triceratops fossil and continued on towards the east.

Gorge lowered his voice to a whisper.
"Well, I overheard Dad and Mom talking about the Malformeds a while ago. Apparently, Drachma's father, Luscious, was a Breath Hater!" He flashed a torch under his face and began wailing "WOOOOOH!"

Mrs Weakly was at the door. She stormed up the path, scattering chickens and penguins as she went. For a short, plump woman, it was remarkable how much she looked like a Tunisian Crimson-Bellied Squid.

"Well, well, well." hissed Mrs Weakly in a deadly whisper.
"Well." gulped Frig.
"Well!" laughed Rum nervously.
"Well?" asked Hairy.

"YOU SHOULD TAKE A LEAF OUT OF PERKY'S BOOK!" screeched Mrs Weakly. "Why is there a leaf in his book?" asked Rum.

"Yeah, I bet Germy wouldn't mind being kidnapped and trapped down a giant hole in your cellar." s******ed Gavin, miming a poodle being pulled down into a pit.
"Who the hell are you?" asked Hairy. Gavin shrugged and exited stage left, toting his flippers and scuba-diving gear.

A Fabio-type man, inevitably bisexual and a posterchild of plastic-surgery, had his face smeared across the front cover. The animated image gave each of them a thumbs up, flashing his unblemished cuticles and strawberry nail polish.

Hairy's gnome closely resembled a cross-breed between a geriatric gopher with asthma and an ambitious giraffe.

The boys finished clearing out the gnomes contaminating the pool using bath foam, singing crude limericks and finally dropping in a hair dryer.

"This morning I wake up to see our Kombi van burst up from the asthenosphere! The one you secretly jinxed to have one of those spiralling-drills on the front that you only see lame cartoon villains driving!" roared Mrs Weakly. Mr Weakly had suddenly become intrigued by decaying butterfly carrion on the floor.

"Which Hairy Potted?" asked Mr Weakly, patting his orange, potted hair.
"Hairy Potted Hairy Potted." said Hairy Potted.
"Hello Hairy Potted!" said Mr Weakly as he patted Hairy Potted's hairy, potted hair.

"What are you doing in Germy's room?" Rum asked. Gavin shrugged in reply, munching from a large dodecahedron of ricotta cheese. Hairy and Rim slowly backed out and closed the door.

As they entered Rum's room, Hairy felt as though he had been shrunk by a bumbling nerd father and dropped into a blender full of oranges.

"Shut up!" the narrator replied, narrating the narrator's own self-narration.

Hairy looked around at the shabby wallpaper, poorly insulated walls, leaky floor, faulty heating system and the dented mattress he was to be sleeping on for another two weeks.
"Rum, this is the best house I've ever been in!" he said, grinning widely.
"Just behind Dogfarts, The Parsley Orphanage, Haggis' fallout shelter, the lighthouse broom closet, my bus shelter…"

The two stood moronically for the next thirty minutes, attempting to fill out the rest of the page by using elaborate 'P' words, such as: probabilistically, palaeoethnography, pteroylmonoglutamic, photoconductivity, piquancy, phosphorescence, pachycephalosaur, punctiliousness, phlegmatically, pasteurisation, parenchyma, Pteridospermaphyta,  passementerie, ponderously, pragmatically, pirozhki, pathologically, pycnodysostosis, psychotherapeutics, pedunculate, phaneromania, pulchritudinous, perambulation, perseveringly, phantasmagorical, pertinaciously, pestiferous, pfannkuchen, Phalacrocoracidae, pseudopsuedohypoparathyroidism, porphyritic, paediatrician, pseudohermaphroditic, paleencephalon, poikilothermous, pseudoantidisestablishmentarianism, pizzazz and pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicavolcanoconiosis.


--CHAPTER FOUR--

At the Parsley Orphanage, Hairy would spray on deodorant to rid himself of body odour for the next twelve minutes whereas at the Weaklys' house, an ecnhanted toilet-brush would yell out 'You smell like sheesh!' every time somebody passed.

Mrs Weakly force-fed Hairy fourths at breakfast, using a cheese grater, a funnel and a solution of nitric soda.

"Fascinating! I always wondered how Muffins did it without sorcery! So, you say they come in assorted colours and flavours..."

The Weakly's cheap Internet-refirgerator beeped.
"You is get mail!" it chirped in a warbled Pidgin-English, a series of Japanese symbols appearing on the screen.
"Ooh, we are get mail!" beamed Mrs Weakly.

Hairy read the message, not caring to lick his lips, adjust his monocles, smoke, call his secretary to hold any calls or hold the suspense of just reading the darn thing; as he would usually do to lengthen the paragraph.

"So, you're starting at Dogfarts this year?" Hairy asked Germy, who jumped nervously, spilling her bowl of Newt Loops.

Rum's Pooping Starch was also outstripped by butterflies, obese dung-beetles and wounded geriatric gophers with asthma.

"Now, you just grab a handful of this Floozy Chowder and download yourself through the net to your destination Internet refrigerator." said Mr Weakly, holding out a container to Rum, who inserted his hand, then gave a loud cry of disgust.
"Eugh! This isn't the Floozy Chowder container! It's a chamber pot!"

"Don't get Javascript on your shoes, it doesn't come off." added Germy.
"And stay away from pop-up advertisements!" said Mrs Weakly.

"Ardour, what did Hairy type as his destination?" she asked.
"I believe it was Sedish for 'kemp tephra mollusc unit'." replied Mr Weakly.
"I thought so." Mrs Weakly said.

Hairy proceeded to exit the sleazy store when he spotted a familiar face through the glass. Drachma Malformed and his father Luscious were about to enter, so Hairy swiftly concealed himself in a large barrel of see-through lingerie. The two peroxide-drenched  Malformeds strode through the door up to the front desk. Mr Malformed rang a bell, which sounded a germaid's orgasm.

Drachma was perusing a table of vampire lubricants.
"Touch nothing!" hissed Mr Malformed, as Drachma squirted the contents of a red tube onto his hand. He attempted to wipe it off, but it had stained his fingers blood-red, like his previous encounter with Hormoany Ginger in an empty classroom. (She had a bleeding nose, you sick pervert!)

Hairy pried a G-string from his ear to hear the conversation better.

"Well, Mr Malformed sir, surely the Minionstry wouldn't trouble non-Muslim families such as yourself in raids for terrorist-related pornography." said Mr Boring. Luscious Malformed's lips curled. He uncurled them with an iron.

"The Hand of Glukky caters for all of your onanistic carnal pleasures and is also very useful for those visiting Coles with deep pockets!" Mr Malformed sniffed derisively.
"I do not wish my son to become a common Brattoni!"

The three-eyed ogre behind the counter watched the Malformeds leave with a scowl.
"If the rumours are true, you've only sold me half your Weapons of Masturbation!"

The majority of stores in Nicotine Gully sold kinky leather whips, cheap goats and large barrels of water-based axle-grease.

Hairy's worst fears were confirmed when an immaculate priest stepped out from a nearby chapel.
"Good morning, young man." greeted the man warmly. "Are you lost? Come, I'll pay for a taxi to get you back home." said the priest genially. Hairy emitted a blood-curdling scream and started backing away. He knocked into someone behind him. It was a pulchritudinous gaggle of nuns.
"Oh, you poor lad! Come inside for cookies, milk and chocolate." they said. Hairy screamed and sprinted in the opposite direction. Dozens of cherubic people began leaning out of their shops with friendly, accommodating grins of reassurance.
"Would you like to stay in my luxurious mansion for the night?" said one.
"Here, I have a helicopter you could borrow!" said another. Hairy thumped into a wooden door, which opened as he hit the ground.
"Hello there! Would you like to meet my daughter, Sonja. She's a professional gymnast and can bend herself into aaany shape you want. She'll do aaanything for some parrot guano to feed her plants!"
"NOOO!!!" Hairy screeched, his heart pumping as he continued on. 

"What were you doing in there, Haggis?" Hiary enquired. Haggis quickly withdrew a bag of Flesh-Eating Sloth Repellent.
"I was just gettin' this. They're gobblin' up all o' the Dogfarts cabbages." he replied. Hairy blinked.
"But they're Flesh-Eating. Why would they eat cabbages?"

Hormoany ran down the steps, her long tongue flapping behind her. She jumped down the last flight of stairs, her skirt flying up to reveal she wasn't wearing knickers. (She was wearing bike shorts you filthy pervert!)

"We've never been allowed." said Gorge enviously.
"You've been aloud in everything you say." joked Germy. Haggis cuffed her head.

At the sight of Hormoany's Muffin parents, Mr Weakly's eyes lit up like a sadist in a massage parlour. Mr and Mrs Ginger were waiting in line to swapping their British currency for wizarding money.
"These slimy bastards will treat you like Jenny Craig." said Mr Weakly.
"How so?" asked Mrs Ginger.
"You'll certainly end up losing a few dozen pounds!"

The three Graafiandors squeezed their way into the bookstore, past the bustling assembly of celibate menopausal women.

Escapin from Lophart, they moved off to a secluded corner of the shop.
"Stunning performance, Potted!" rang a familiar voice. Hairy looked up and gasped. It wasn't Snoop, it wasn't Vulvamork, it wasn't even Haggis. It was Malformed.

After creating a new paragraph for no evident reason, Germy spoke out.
"Leave Hairy alone! He didn't know it was a hermaphrodite porno!"
"Oh look, Potted's got himself a girlfriend!" drawled Drachma nastily. Hairy grinned.
"Better than an inflatable crocodile with Hormoany's face pasted on!" he retorted. Malformed flushed, loosening his tie and looking about guiltily.

Mr Weakly flushed redder than a Jaffa in tomato sauce. 
"We have a different view of what disgraces the name of a wizard, Luscious," he hissed, lowering his voice. "Not flushing after you'd used a Port-a-loo at Witchstock, then not washing your hands afterwards!" Mr Malformed's face contorted with fury.
"How dare you repeat that in public!" he shouted. The two men leapt onto each other and started a furious thumb-wrestle. Haggis swiftly separated the two men, holding them at arms' length. Mr Malformed's cuticle was slightly mangled and Mr Weakly had a bruised metacarpophalangeal joint. Both men panted heavily, sweat trickling down their middle-aged heads. Luscious Malformed recovered his composure before spitting on the floor
"Fine! Take your textbook back, you stupid girl!" he said, tossing it towards Germy. It hit Hormoany.

Mr Weakly kept badgering the Gingers to explain the purpose of a bus stop.
"Well, now you mention it, someone stole ours a few weeks ago, for some odd reason involving a cubby house in the back yard…" said Mr Ginger.

Haggis was left to finish off several gallons of eggnog. (The chicken foetus in a bottle! You can feel the embryo melt in your mouth! Banned in two continents, ninety two countries and eight separate religions! Fried, not baked! The 'nog' stands for 'conceptus rejected after stem-cells have been removed, leaving the body to be ground up into this tepid, milky beverage!' It's cheap! Cheep cheep! Visit your local slaughterhouse now!)

After another nauseating journey through cyberspace, a very battered Hairy was spewed out of the Weakly's freezer compartment. His elbow was lodged into his groin and he had a sneaking suspicion that he was missing a shoe, along with the foot in it.

Mrs Weakly was bandaging the slits across her body from an encounter with a hacker. Rum was suffering concussion and all cranial orifices were oozing blood onto the floor. Germy was in a mild coma and the Siamese Weakly twins had been separated during the journey, both painstakingly stitching their torsos back to each other.

Floozy Chowder was definitely not Hairy Potted's favourite way to travel, but heck, it beat public transportation.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/12/05 at 1:36 am

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/HarryWood.jpg

--CHAPTER FIVE--

The usual welcome that Hairy received from the Parsleys was a kick in the rear and a stale popsicle shaped like Richard Nixon.

It was soon time for a mug of hot chocolate and bed. (How the bed managed to fit into a mug with the hot chocolate is still unknown.)

"Ready?" asked Rum.
"YOU WISH." replied Hairy boldly, whipping his baton up to his face dramatically.
"…huh?" said Rum, eyeing Hairy suspiciously.
"Don't worry, I will be." replied Hairy boldly, his face half-cast in shadow.

"The parabolic nature of our decreasing velocity is scarily similar to that of the effects of gravity." noted Rum.
"Yes, indicating that Ralphing's Law of Fiction appears to have a slight flaw." said Hairy, reaching terminal height.

The two looked around for another entry point. Only a few items littered the floor: a coat hanger, some dental floss and a can of sarsaparilla.
"I've got it!" shouted Rum. "We tie the dental floss around the coat hanger and rig it to the carbonated soda can, then shake the can until the top pops off, sending the coat hanger up to the station like a makeshift grapnel hook!"

Hairy vibrated for a moment, his male genetics kicking in.
"Oh fine! Race you to the van!" he yelled, bowling over two geriatrics with his trolley as he sprinted away.

Hairy could hardly wait until they got back to Dogfarts... but he had to, so he did.
 
Rum jerked on a squash racquet suspended from the van roof, causing the Kombi to burst up through the soil. Clods of earth caked the large drill at the front.
"All that and a bag of tomato chips." said Hairy. Gavin secretly agreed.

Hairy could see Hormoany and Perverted Petal combing each other's hair. In the next carriage along, a metal pitchfork was brushing Nibble Lungbuttock's hair. Hairy slowly turned to face Rum.
"Um, how exactly are we seeing in through their windows if they're on a flying cow?" he asked. Rum slowly turned to face Hairy.
"And how am I able to properly steer if I'm looking at you?"

"Oh well, all we have to worry about now are low flying aeroplanes!" joked Rum. Hairy and Rum burst into laughter, then quickly veered out of the way of a jumbo jet.
"Next stop, Dogfarts Institute of Wizardry and Weird Plots!" yelled Rum excitedly.
"Shut up, Rum." spat Hairy.

"Aaargh! Get off the windscreen, Gavin!" yelled Rum. Gavin was heating his oxygen tanks and draining the fumes through his mouthpiece like a giant pressurised bong. The Kombi had dark fumes billowing out of the bonnet.
"Bloody hell!" cursed the van. "Haven't you bastards heard of second-hand smoke?"

"Watch out for that tree!" yelled George of the Jungle.

With an ear-splitting bang of metal on wood and flesh on upholstery, the van rammed into a large plant, slamming to the ground with an abrupt Jolt cola.

"Oh no!" grimaced Rum, looking in the rear-view mirror. "It's a Humping Sallow!" One long bough rhythmically slapped the boot of the can as grunts of pleasure emanated from the tree. Hairy retched into an ashtray. This was more disgusting than a security tape he had seen of a woman falling into a giraffe pen during mating season!

“Well, let’s make like a tree and… get the fudge out of here!”

The Sorting Hatch was dividing the newcomers into their fraternity houses. Germy was easily visible in the group, her orange hair rather obvious amongst all of the other students' shades of blue.

"Profaner Snoop isn't at the staff table!" said Rum.
"Maybe he's sick!" suggested Hairy.
"Maybe he's been fired!" added Rum.
"Or maybe he's waiting behind you to find out why you weren't on the Dogfarts Excess today." came a dark voice from behind them.
"Or maybe he's horribly disfigured from a poaching spill!" continued Hairy. Profaner Snoop coughed indignantly.
"Ahem. I just said that I was right behi-" he began.
"Maybe he finally did get gonorrheoa!" 

Profaner MuckGonadal wore a bright green zucchini-mask on her face and was listening to rap music when they entered her office.

"Where is this van that the Humping Sallow is bragging about to the rest of the flora? Something about a 'car jacking' and getting some 'pussy willow'."

Hairy's stomach clenched together.
"Sorry!" chirped Gavin, removing the vice from around Hairy's torso.

When Hairy had last sent a cyber-message using Hodwog, it had ended up reaching its destination via a detour of Peru, Uruguay, New Zealand and Mauritania.

The two ate alone in the Grate hall, as everyone else had left to go to bed, or else engage in glacier climbing.


--CHAPTER SIX--

Hormoany seemed about impressed with the boys' adventure as she was with the four-inch sausages at breakfast.

The Bawler exploded into flames, showering the room with confetti. A small pile of ashes was all that remained on the table, smoking calmly as an exposed golden ring with Elvish writing engraved along the edg- darn it! Wrong story again!

CLANG! CLANGCLANGCLANGCLANG!!! 
"Who dropped that pin?"

"That's the ticket!" beamed Lophart.
"What ticket?" asked Hairy, as Dildoroy dragged him away by the nipples.
"Hairy, Hairy!" sighed Lophart. Completely flummoxed, Hairy said nothing.
"Hairy, Hairy, Hairy," continued Lophart. "Hai-ry Hairy; Hairy Hairy Hairy? Hairy!"
"What?!" said Hairy, thoroughly irritated at the moronic man.
"Gave you a taste for fame, didn't I, Hairy? Gave you the bug!" Lophart said. Hairy yelped, brushing a large bug from his arm.

"Hairy, Hairy, Hairy." interrupted Lophart, now attempting a record for the most amount of times 'hairy' is said in a paragraph. "Try not to attract too much attention. People will think you're a bit arrogant!" He gave Hairy a hearty wink and ran off, yelling:
"Look at me! Look at me!" at a passing group of Ravercorks.

Justout Finch-Retching sidled over to their table and began yammering on about his entire life story without any apparent reason.
"My Muffin dad was a bit wary of me coming here, but after reading about Dildoroy Lophart, he's seen the benefits of magic. Boy, that Lophart is brave isn't he? I'd have been scared stiff if a taxation officer had me cornered in a toilet cubicle; but he remained calm and… POW!"

After the potting of the Mandrins was completed, Justout Finch-Retching accidentally potted Hairy.
"Whoops! Now I see why they call you Hairy Po-"
"Don't say it!" snapped Hairy.

After a quick meteor shower to wash off, the Graafiandors hurried along to Transmogrification class.

"What have we got next?" he asked Hormoany, passing her timetable over through a mouthful of chameleon patty. Rum looked over it.
"I see it's a double Deference against the Bleak Arts. But why…" began Rum.
"Why have you outlined all of Dildoroy Lophart's lessons with pink hearts?" Hormoany blushed and attempted to snatch back the schedule. Rum continued.
"Plus all of Flipwit's, Snoop's, Stout's, MuckGonadal's…"

Half of the surrounding students were tuning in to hear Hairy and Malformed fight, the others would simply watch highlights at six with Janine.

"ONE MORE TOE OUT OF LINE AND IT'S OFF TO THE PODIATRIST!"

Dildoroy Lophart swaggered up, hitching high his silk pantaloons.
"I'll do a cameo for you! Get Potter and I in the one scene and I'll work on the DVD commentary afterwards!" Malformed sidled off smirking as Colon Creamy filmed a panning long-shot of Rum’s nostrils for his opening credits.

Lophart posed at his desk, motioning to the smiling picture behind him. The two winked sleazily in perfect unison.

"I like cheese!" shouted Gavin, sucking a chunk of the matter it through his snorkel.

“…but let's not get side-tracked, I didn't end up getting breakfast from a banjee by posing nude for her!" joked Lophart moronically.
"He did with my auntie." Rum muttered to Hairy.

Question 1. Which of Dildoroy Lophart's nipples is larger?
Question 2. What colour underpants does Dildoroy Lophart wear?
The list continued for several pages, right up to:
Question 69. What position is Dildoroy Lophart most likely to make love in?

"Now, onto our lesson! You may meet your worst fears in this very room!" said Lophart.
"We already have." Hairy mumbled under his breath.

"Here we go again!" sang Hairy sardonically, a decrescendo chord playing comicallly in the background. The three protagonists stood placidly for a moment, looking about in anticipation. Hormoany coughed. Several seconds past. Hairy gave an audible sniff.
"Yes… here we GO… again…" he called, slightly louder than his previous effort.
Rum looked at his watch. Hormoany coughed again. There was a minute sound of footsteps in the background, gradually growing louder. Hairy held his finger to his ear, as if receiving news from an earpiece. He nodded to Hormoany and Rum, who took up their initial positions.
"Here we go again!!!" said Hairy sardonically.

"Wait, he left with unlocking the deadbolt!" exclaimed Hormoany.
"Oh sheesh! Come back! Here we go again! HERE! WE! GO! AGAIN!!!" screamed Hairy. Rum placed his hand solemnly on Hairy's shoulder.
"It's over, son,” he whispered. “It's over." At this, the three teens dropped to their knees and gyrated emotionally to the heavens.
"NOOOOOO!!!"


--CHAPTER SEVEN--

Hairy spent the day avoiding Dildoroy Lophart as much as he could, especially  whenever he saw the man positioned at the urinal.

Hairy groggily awoke, glancing at the clock… Six am. On a Maturday morning. This must have been illegal.

Colon Creamy was following, his camcorder swinging from a nipple piercing.
"How does Spinach work?" he queried, trotting to keep up with Hairy. Luckily enough, there was a user-friendly Spinach pamphlet hovering just infront of Hairy by some odd reason.
"Here, read this." said Hairy, handing the guide to Colon. "How fortunate! I mean, who would drag the reader through half a page re-explaining how Spinach works just to make the book seem larger?"

Frig was dozing merrily, his face resting on Angelwiener's breasts.

"Why couldn't you have told this to us when we were awake?" grumbled Cutie Smell, removing the comatose Gorge from her lap.

Hairy enviously eyed the urodele toast with lemming jam that they were munching.

"As I was saying, Mr Malformed has kindly donated state-of-the-art squeegees to our team."

Colon Creamy ran down from the stands clutching his video camera.
"Ooh, what happened? Can you cure him?" he slobbered. Rum's flatulent worms continued spurting out through the hole in his robes.
"Can I get a shot of this?" Colon asked, bobbing up and down as he set up an aerial shot.
"What sort of sick person would want to see footage of a deluge of worms shooting from Rum's butt?" Hairy shouted.
"This is the Internet Age!" retorted Colon.

"…if a word o' Lophart’s is true, I'll eat me hat!" said Haggis. Hairy did not doubt this at all.

“Why’d he call her a Cudblood?” asked Hairy. Haggis grunted gruffly.
"Well, some sorcerers reckon tha’ just cuz rural Muffins in New Zealand mate wit’ ruminants, tha’ sorcerers wit’ Muffin relatives mus’ have sheep DNA. Rubbish o’ course! Just cuz Malformed's lot never came across one in compromisin’ position…"

"I told Lophart yeh wouldn't need tha’ sorta publicity the begin wit'. Yer already more famous than him an' Belinda Cunnilinda put together."
"Who?" queried Rum. A stray worm shot out of the open window. Haggis faltered.
"Belinda Cunnilinda… yeh know? Wha’, don’ yez read Playwizard? …never mind.”

"A great fan of mine, judged my nude posing session... Fame is a freaking fickle friend from Finland... I stink therefore I ham…" Hairy ignored Lophart's ramblings, scribbling a signature on an IUD for Ms Ginger.


--CHAPTER EIGHT--

"You cleaned out urinals… in a girls' toilet?" Hairy asked. Rum blinked.
"Yeah! That’s where they engrave the names of those who've won Special Crevices to the Institute." Hairy regurgitated into a gumboot.The combination of 'crevice' in relation to a urinal in a girls' toilet was best avoided.

"Well, your detention may seem bad, but do I have a story to tell you!" said Hairy.
Rum leapt up excitedly and seated himself at Hairy's feet.
"Is it Little Red Riding Hood? I like that story!"

The annual cold season had set over Dogfarts Institute of Wizardry and Weird Plots. Hairy continued wondering why the staff didn't use sorcery to keep the place warm, or at least cover up the gaping hole on the west-side wall of the castle, which exposed all of the classrooms to the elements.

The torrents of water had caused Haggis' grapefruits to grow very large indeed, as huge as... very huge grapefruits.

"Hello, Hairy, hello..." Merely Hoodless Dick replied absentmindedly. The spectre wore a splendid ghostly outfit, much like that which William Shakespeare would have worn, if he was alive now, and now was four hundred years ago.

"Dear Merely Hoodless Dick, We can only accept bluntmen whose 'hoods' have come off completely from their appendage. You will appreciate that it would otherwise be impossible for members to join in Jewish traditions and phallus collagen races. It is with great regret that I inform you that your penis does not fulfil our requirements."
Hairy’s eyes bulged and he took a large step back away from the Elizabethan spectre.
"You would expect," boomed Merely Hoodless Dick suddenly. “…that attempting to have your foreskin removed by a scalpel, a rusted hatchet and a guillotine would render it well and truly off, wouldn't you?" he bellowed to no-one in particular.

"You'd better get out of here, Hairy. Mr Belch isn't in such a good mood. The third years
accidentally splattered the dungeon ceiling with frog nipples and he's also pre-menstrual."

"Name: Hairy Potted. Crime:-" began Belch. Hairy intervened.
"It was only custard, cake and jelly" he appealed. Carefaker Belch scowled.
"Don't trifle with me boy! You’re in for more than a trifle punishment!”

Merely Hoodless Dick excitedly, glided through a wall, scaring the bajeezuz out of Hairy. Hairy quickly replaced his bajeezuz.

He watched Hairy on tenterhooks, later removing them from his shoulder blades.

"Well Hairy, I guess I'll make like a ghost and... get the fudge out of here!"

"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day of their death?" Rum spat, then cast a look at his calendar. "Whoopee! Only eight weeks until Easter!" he shouted excitedly. Hairy sighed heavily, having seen that sad joke coming from the editorial room. The narrator narrated another sigh and continued narrating the narrow narrative.

"I hope Groaning Girdle isn’t here… she’s haunts the girl's communal bathroom. Always leaves the showers turned on..." Rum and Hairy were off in a world of their own, envisioning pleasant scenarios that could occur in such communal girls' showers.

"You're making fun of my dental deformity" the ghost whined nasally. "Do you know what people called me when I was alive? Metal-mouth! Train-tracks! Orthopaedically-dependant-loser!" wailed Groaning Girdle. Peeves pelted her with a stale avocado.
"You forgot 'bucktoothed-pimply-fest-who-has-grotesque-metallic-oral-attachments’”

The leader of the ghostly troop stopped abruptly in front of the three Graafiandors, his foreskin flopping onto the floor with a splat. He saw the three students and feigned shock.
"Live ‘uns!" he cried, opening his mouth in surprise to reveal his foreskin tied arounhd his uvula. The audience of dead souls guffawed wildly.
“What’s that strange sound?” asked Hairy.
“I believe it’s know as ‘laughter’.” replied Hormoany.

"For once, I agree with Rum. Let's make like a trio of disgusted living souls and… get the fudge out of here!"

The red smudges spelt out jaggedly-written words with artistic drips, to make them seem foreboding and eeevil. Hormoany, Rum and Hairy slowly began to read the eeevil message.
THE CHANGER OF SEQUINS IS BACK, BACK AGAIN.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/12/05 at 1:39 am

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/IseedeadWeasleys.jpg

--CHAPTER NINE--

"You killed Mrs Notorious! When I get my hands on you, I'll take your temperature rectally with a pitchfork! " screeched Mr Belch.

After clearing a stack of Playwizard magazines from Lophart's table, Dumbodork lay the stiff Mrs Notorious on top of the desk and started prodding her. Tutting in a belittling tone, he strapped on a surgical mask and apron and snapped two spandex gloves over each hand.
"Scalpel!" he ordered. Madam Pomfret, dressed in full medical outfit, handed over the required utensil. Dumbodork began slicing away the cougar's chest cavity.
"Crowbar!" yelled the herdmuster, proceeding to pry open the ribcage. A line of blood spattered evenly across each of the onlookers' faces.
"Pneumatic drill! And I’ll need seven hundred ccs of benzocaine! Stat!" shouted Dumbodork melodramatically. Profaner MuckGonadal, with her witches' hat covered by cling wrap, handed over the medical implement whilst Profaner Flipwit jammed a syringe full of anaesthetic into the cougar's neck. Dumbodork began jackhammering away at Mrs Notorious' insides, flecks of sinew and gristle dotting across the room as blood-red goo overflowed from the torso of the cougar and oozed onto the floor in a dark puddle. A series of machines began beeping and whirring beside Hairy.
"We're losing her! Get me some defibrillators! Stat!" roared Dumbodork, using a circular saw to slice open the feline's armpits. The room was blotted with sprayed blood, a pool of red lymph staining Hairy’s ankles. Mr Belch sobbed heavily throughout the traumatic operation. Hairy couldn't help but feel pity towards him, especially since he would be the one responsible for having to mop up the emotionally-scarring gore from the room.

"Mrs Notorious is not dead!" stated Dumbodork. "This cougar has been Taxidermed." he continued. “Thus, I cannot see how Potted could have been involved…” Profaner Snoop stepped forward slovenly, the gloomy lighting metaphorically representing the minacious nature of the character, his accentuated horns, forked tail and pitchfork also implying his role as a source of evil and conflict.

"But your house is in the opposite direction!" cried Snoop. Rum didn’t miss a beat.
"Actually, as the Earth is a sphere, we WERE technically heading towards Graafiandor."
Hairy and Hormoany, who were expecting some moronic comment to further bury them in guilt, stopped mid-cuff at this ingenious remark. After a pause, they looked at each other and nodded in agreement, cuffing his head anyway.


"So… will Mrs Notorious be alright?" whimpered Belch meekly. Dumbodork chuckled sheepishly.
"Actually, she was just sleeping when we brought her in. Unfortunately, the internal damage from all of my power equipment has rendered her Taxidermed. A Restorative Flagon should take as long to prepare as is necessary for this bunch to unravel an over-elaborate and weird plot." Dumbodork said, motioning to Hairy, Hormoany, Rum and Gavin.

"Do you think I should have told Profaner Dumbodork about the dark, hoarse, eeevil voice that I heard?" Hairy asked.
"Definitely maybe not." replied Hormoany.

Hormoany and Rum shrugged to no-one. No-one shrugged back.

Hairy suddenly remembered something that had been niggling the back of his mind like a fluke worm in a camel's colon.

"Oh, I can't say it! I've been sworn to take it to the grave!" said Rum firmly. Hormoany bowed her head.
"To the grave." she repeated ceremoniously.

Carefaker Belch continually patrolled the site of the attack, as if the culprit was stupid enough to go back to the scene of the crime and prance around in a frilly pink hat.

The ominous words still glistened eerily, an omnipresent reminder of a sinister subplot brewing below the empyrean. (And they turned me down for a Pulitzer nomination!)

"Talking about the Queen Mother, she reached one hundred and one!" Rum said.
"Well, the good die young!" said Hairy.

Justout Finch-Retching caught sight of Hairy. He froze, turned around and fled in the opposite direction. Hairy sniffed his armpits, shrugged, then continued walking.

Hairy and Rum stared blankly at Hormoany, dribble carving a path down their chins in perfect synchronisation with an inflamed haemorrhoid.

Gavin continued sprinkling parmesan cheese down the half-binding of ‘Dogfarts: a Misery’ and daubed streaks of Gouda down the spine.

The fascist librarian used an economy-sized bulldozer to empty the library.

A bony hand, caked with rotting flesh, burst out suddenly from the earthy soil. The class' undead educator, Profaner Banns, clambered out of the damp earth and stood next to his desk. The students dry retched from the sour stench that wafted from Profaner Banns' rank chassis. Hairy cringed at the sight of a maggot infestation gnawing away at a crusty layer of the zombie's scalp. Worms would occasionally protrude from his green epidermis as he talked.

Profaner Banns looked shocked from the interruption, possibly because Hormoany’s raised hand had lifted up her sleeve to reveal she wasn't wearing a bra. (She was wearing a tank top, you dirty pervert!) A lone chunk of gristle dropped from the Profaner's arm and landed on the floor with a splat.
"Let's see, how about… no! The Changer of Sequins is a legend! Made-up! A fairy tale! Fictional! A crock of sh-" Hormoany cut off Profaner Banns.
"But don't all fancible myths have an element of truth?" she blurted. Profaner Banns blinked, then checked the table of elements. He found the element of truth along the top column and was forced to continue.

An image was projected up onto the wall in a fashion quite unorthodox to Venezuelans.

"As you know, Dogfarts was founded over one thousand years ago by four founders: Gothic Graafiandor, Helmet Hecklepuck, Ribena Ravercork and Saladbar Silvery. They constructed the castle far from prying Muffin eyes and the IRS. This was due to the fact that sorcery was commonly persecuted during the era… and to avoid witch tax."

Profaner Banns paused again, cast again a look over the again engrossed students and continued again. The image on the wall portrayed a teary-eyed class farewelling Saladbar Silvery as he exited the Dogfarts gates, toting a knapsack of mediaeval kimonos over his shoulder. Profaner Banns plucked a maggot from his eyeball and tossed it away.
"Reliable sources provide us with this much information. Unfortunately, this story has been distorted by the fanciful legend of the Changer of Sequins. It was well known that Saladbar Silvery was a transvestite. He supposedly built a secret room to change into his sequinned dresses at night and perfect his pedicures in peace."

Hairy gasped along with the rest of the class as a photograph of an immense chamber was projected infront of them. The room seemed to be perfectly carved out of marble, with utterly adorable furnishings to create a feng-shui with the delicious carpet/wallpaper colour co-ordination.

"There is no proof that Silvery so much as built a secret closet, only that he came out of it! Provide me one solid, verifiable item of evidence!" barked Profaner Banns. The class seated themselves one by one, leaving Hairy standing on his own with a furrowed brow.
"Well, sir… your slide show contained images of not only Silvery's hair, but the changing room itself. You are actually the one with the hard copies of evidence."
Hairy clicked the red button, projecting the offending photographs onto the wall.
"See, they've even been dated about fifty years ago and verified by officials and everything." said Hairy, pointing out the official procedures that had been administered to the documentation of Silvery's hair. Profaner Banns stood frozen on the spot, vibrating dangerously. Foetid pieces of dead tissue and strips of rotten organs littered the floor. Profaner Banns quickly plucked the miniature photographs from the magic lantern and dropped them into his mouth. The objects fell down through a gaping hole in his gut and clattered to the floor. This technique having proved a failure, Profaner Banns proceeded to bash the photographs with his ulna bone until they were powder. 
"There!" he panted, the silenced students looking on tentatively.
"Not a single scrap of evidence!”


The class fell back into its habitual lethargy as Profaner Banns began reciting Sorcery Regulations and their relevance to the distorted growth of fungi in Ghana.

As if to verify this suspicion, Gavin suddenly appeared, joigging around the room in his flippers; a black Jewish midget transvestite with a smelling disability was being dragged behind him on a string.


--CHAPTER TEN--

An enchanted Pez dispenser woke up the class with a shrill wailing that closely resembled a throttled hyena.

Hairy remembered the occurrence like it was just 400 days ago.
)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((
)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((
)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))(((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((
(It's supposed to be one of those rippling flashback effects. Trust me, it looks good when you're drunk and standing on your head with 3-D glasses on.)

"Hey, look at this!" cried Hormoany, pointing to a nearby window. A line of pubic lice was crawling through a hole in the pane, carrying their possessions in a backpack made out of tightly woven human pubes.

After persuading the two boys to enter with a carrot on a string, Hormoany checked to make sure no-one was looking and followed suit. The suit disapproved.

"Hang on! This is where Groaning Girdle lives!" said Hormoany. “Let’s ask her if she saw anything… on that fateful night…" The three went up to the last shower and pulled back the curtain. Perverted Petal screamed and slapped Hairy across the face. Hormoany apologised and hastily closed the curtain again.
"Why wasn't she showering with the water turned on?" asked Rum.
"Shut it." Hairy hissed through clenched teeth. "If we kept questioning the circumstances of everything that happens in this inane book, we'd never see any nude girls!"

Groaning Girdle's mouth opened in an angry croissant-like shape, though croissants are rarely filled with enough steel to deflect a bullet.

At this, she furiously shot down a toilet behind them, drenching them with toilet water.
"I wish she'd have flushed first." grimaced Rum.

Hairy and Hormoany looked at each other and mouthed 'gorringe' for no apparent reason.

Rum's baton started spitting balls of toothpaste onto Hormoany, giving her Afro a minty freshness.

"Let’s think… who views all non-pure-bloods as filth?" replied Rum sarcastically.
"What? Pauline Hanson?" blurted Hairy.

"Come on, Rum. Even you should have a better vocabulary than that!" guffawed Hairy. Rum flicked the tip of his magical baton.
"You try… speak… word with… stick magic stuck… upwards brain." stuttered Rum in reply. Hormoany interrupted his cerebral malfunctioning.
"I'm sure we can find the Pollywog Poaching in the restricted section. All we need is a signature from a Profaner." she said. Rum thought for a moment.
"Who teacher be… not smart… to… signature us library?"

"Sorry I'm late, class. There was a particularly intriguing fungus growth on the wall."
"Profaner Lophart is… not smart… for we to… advantage him!" Rum said cruelly, caressing his hands together like an evil schemer.

Hairy wished to grab a nearby hatrack and impale Lophart through it like a kebab.

"Profaner Lophart, we need to borrow a restricted book-on-tape from the Dogfarts library. It would really help us understand the intricacies of the tropical ivy you used as toilet paper for your duration in Guatemala."

"And Potted, if you need any Spinach tips, I'm always willing to aid the less able!" Lophart added with a hearty wink.
"Who? Coma patients?" said Rum.

Madam Pfalz had a small Hitler moustache and numerous swastikas blazoning her Brown Shirt.
"Vot iz you effter?" she barked. Hairy swallowed nervously.
"We need to borrow Most Impotent Poachings. Hormoany has our signed permission note here." he stammered. Madam Pfalz scrutinised the note.
"Ziss appears to be in order! Vait here!" she ordered, goose-stepping into the restricted section of the athenaeum. Once she had returned, she paused to check that they were free of any hexagrams, before handing over the book.
"If zere are any penzil marks along zee margins ven zis iz returned, Mein Fuhrer vill be eenformed!" hissed Madam Pfalz. Hormoany, Rum and Hairy nodded meekly.
"Shall we go, then?" Rum asked.
"VEE VILL ASK ZEE QUESTIONS!" screeched Madam Pfalz.The three students scampered off, leaving Madam Pfalz to strip raw pink flesh from a dead rabbit, a trickle of blood crawling down her chin.
"Heil!" she chanted, elevating her baton arm. Somewhere in New York, a Jewish boy's head exploded.

"Guys, have I ever been wrong before?" scowled Hormoany. Hairy and Rum rummaged through their pitiful memories.
"Well," began Hairy. "There was that time involving the… oh wait, that was Rum."
he trailed off.
"Hang on, remember that embroidery competition… oh wait, that was me." said Rum.


--CHAPTER ELEVEN--

Oldliver opened his mouth to say something, realised that he was Irish, then closed it.

The Graafiandors filed out onto the Spinach pitch. Hairy was so caught up with emotion that he didn't hear the roar of the crowd. As he mounted his vacuum cleaner, he didn't even hear the foghorn blow to start the game. He then realised it was two in the morning and the game wasn't starting for another eight hours.

They hurried back to bed, muttering about equestrians.

The Silvery players were away faster than you can say 'polytetrafluoroethylene' fourteen thousand and forty one times.

The sound of a mediocre vagabond sounded from the foghorn to end the game.

Hairy awoke with a start in the middle of the night. There was somebody dabbing his forehead with a wet shoe.

He grabbed Dodgy by the collar.
"So you were the one who cursed my quill to write in Hindu!" Dodgy raised an eyebrow.
"Erm, no... Dodgy has just been trying to seriously maim you." replied the house-imp. Hairy faltered.
"Oh, you know what I mean! If a rose was called by any other name, wouldn't it still be worth two in the bush?"

Dodgy twisted off his own arm at the elbow and began flogging himself with the bloody stump.

"Sir, all house-imps wear onion sacks to make them unattractive to hot chicks, as being given skimpy lingerie would free Dodgy from his enchantments of enslavement."

Dumbodork picked up the video camera and opened it up. Hairy, three beds away, smelt the acrid smell of Madam Pomfret passing wind.

Profaner MuckGonadal and Madam Pomfret moved in closer to hear and the colliding of their heads secretly pleased Hairy.


--CHAPTER TWELVE--

Hairy magically went from great agony during lesson time on Friday, to a complete recovery for the weekend.

Panting from a ravaging obesity that has been acquired by many of today's youth, he swung open the locker room door. Perverted Petal screamed and slapped Hairy across face, storming out with a towel wrapped around her.

Holidays were approaching and nearly everybody had got their ear tagged to be released for vacation, except for Malformed, Crappe and Goitre. Hormoany, Hairy and Rum found this very suspicious. Why would the three students be staying behind when everyone else was leaving? Well, clearly the question could have been directed back at them.

Snoop held up the cauldron, revealing Hairy's footprint plainly stamped on the side.
"If I ever find out who did this, they'll be taking a detention with the Humping Sallow!" he roared darkly. Hairy thanked the author for being untalented enough to adapt the Cinderella method of holding up each student's shoe to match to the tread.

Rum and Hairy ground-up the final ingredients of the Pollywog Poaching using three wolverines, a winnowing sieve and a strickened adjective.

Hormoany grimaced as she used a mop to clean Rum's semi-masticated dinner from her face.
"Let's think, Rum. It's a fresh, new idea, which means it comes from…"
"An old fashioned fogie!" ejaculated Rum. Hormoany grabbed the mop again, swabbing the results of Rum's 'ejaculation' from her face.

The demonic Profaner Snoop was wearing a billowing puce tutu, reminding Hairy of a menstruating fruit-bat.

Dildoroy Lophart leapt up onto the raised platform and hushed the crowd with a swivelling of the hips.

Profaner Lophart bowed to Profaner Snoop, who replied by flipping him the bird. The two men took the stances of a fencer and a flatulent praying mantis.

"I introduce Martha Stewart!" yelled Lophart enthusiastically. The eagerness of all the pupils dropped in an instant as the woman walked onto the stage.
"I think I'm seeing double." Hairy murmured out of the corner of his mouth to Rum, as Dildoroy Lophart sidled up alongside the guest, the two grinning moronically.
“Let's get to it!" chirped Marther Stuwart, her hallmark grin returning within milliseconds of her lips ceasing to move. A laugh track sounded from somewhere.

"Now, this device is called a ‘whisk’." she continued. Every female member in the audience rolled their eyes, having had mastered the skill at age four. Every male member of the audience looked on attentively, scribbling notes.

"Either make a skilly or loblolly gruel, simply vary your liquified asp droppings accordingly. Then, once it's thoroughly mixed, pop the mixture in your ear…" Martha Stewart trailed off as she funnelled the oatmeal slop down her aural cavity.
"Mix thoroughly…" she added, before tearing off her head and violently booting it across the stage. "And you're done!" she said, as her body poured the porridge-like substance out through her nostrils.

"Expelyouranus!" bellowed Snoop, shooting Lophart into the ceiling. Profaner Lophart's baton spiralled off towards the window. It hit Hormoany.

Malformed was grinning deviously from nose to eyebrow.

"Now, Potted, when Master Malformed performs his incantation, just do this." Lophart swirled his baton in an array of directions. The rod spun out of his hand and cartwheeled towards Perverted Petal. It hit Hormoany.

Several nearby Ravercorks whispered fervently as they case Hairy a queer look, though this may have been due to a purple hippopotamus on his head.

"Hairy. This is bad. This is very bad!" said Rum shakily.
"What?" asked Hairy, completely nonplussed.
"Didn't you watch todays episode of The Bold and the Beautiful? Alaska’s gone and had a skin bleaching to elope with South Carolina in order to blackmail Nebraska's boyfriend over her ex-husband's illegitimate son!" said Rum frantically.

"You should worry about being an Arselmouth, Hairy. It'll start... rumors." said Rum.
"Yes, people may raise certain… accusations." added Hormoany.
"Why are you pausing dramatically to end each... sentence?" asked… Hairy. The narrator... sighed.

Rum slid an ostrich omelette through the slit between his baton and mouth palette.

Hairy's heart sunk. (Ooh, I can get a pun out of this one. Hang on… word association, word association… heart… sunk… sunken heart… heartship? No no… heart… ticker… ticking… time! And sunk… underwater… the aphotic zone! *ahem* Hairy's heart sunk… WHAT A TIME ZONE!
Off in the distance, giraffes chirped into the silence.

"Let's leave it for now, to gnaw away in subplot for a while." instructed Hormoany.

"What-what do you want?" asked Bernie. Hairy adopted an air of casual chatter.
"Oh, I just wanted to see Justout Finch-Retching." he announced. The Hecklepucks gasped, their worst fears finalised… for the television screen behind Hairy showed that Hawaii, Amber's adopted father, had indeed been murdered by Arkansas's disowned grandparents after having their sex change under Dr Los Angeles.

Hairy continued marching down the corridor furiously until her bumped into a walking flamingo carcass. He then realised that Haggis was carrying it.

"Caught in the act!" yelled Bernie Macmullian, pointing accusingly at Hairy.
"It's actually a different Act, we're in Scene One." retorted Hairy.

Dumbodork disappeared down a secret passage, possibly to India.

"Sheesh, what's up your butt?" said the Sorting Hatch.
"Oh, a shovel!" Hairy piped, quickly withdrawing the offending article.

A wretched bird was hooked up to a dialysis machine, an iron lung and an electroencephalograph. Feathers littered the floor. Hairy took a step back from the morbid smell wafting from a colostomy bag. Without warning, the cardiograph flatlined and the orange bird emitted a shrill shriek. With a deafening explosion, it burst apart with the force of a deodorant can in a microwave. Blood and gore splattered the room. As a last remnant of bird innards landed with a splat on the floor, Dumbodork returned.
He stopped in a dark puddle of ruptured spleen.

Haggis swung the flamingos energetically as he argued, knocking over an several invaluable Ming-dynasty-era vases.

"I expect better from you, Hairy,” said Dumbodork. “You parents didn't choose tuition at Dogfarts as their life insurance policy so that you could learn sorcery. They wished for you to be placed in an environment so crude that it would prepare you for the real world."
Hairy sat up in his seat.
"What do you mean, 'the real world'?" asked Hairy. Profaner Dumbodork leant back in his chair and yawned.
"Never mind, we have no need for any of their influences!" 

"It's ready." Hormoany whispered.
"What? My hair?" asked Rum.
"No, you fudgewit! Not reddy: ready! The Pollywog Poaching!"

They passed Gavin, who was teaching worms how to scuba-dive in septic tanks with a mouth-full of cheddar.

His Defect badge now read ‘Reject’. It was also up to chapter books.

They hurried to Groaning Girdle's locker room, ducking Perverted Petal’s fist.

The liquid bubbled happily on a fire, turning the colour of a eunuch’s scrotum.

"I have their DNA in these... ribbed, flavoured balloons." Hormoany announced.

"That sounds like something Hormoany would say." joked Hairy/Crappe. Rum/Goitre cuffed the back of his head, paused, then cuffed him again.

“Hurry up, you two! I have something to show you!" Malformed rapped. Rum/Goitre and Hairy/Crappe followed Drachma/Drachma down the hall.

Hairy looked to Rum who looked to Drachma who looked to Gavin.

Hairy put on a fake laugh, something he was becoming an expert at from all of the lame jokes he was bombarded with in this sad, sad novel.

"Father probably won't tell me all the details as we have to lay low while the Minionstry inspects our mansion. Lucky we keep all of our valuable terrorist weapons hidden inside a baby carcass that my mother cut open and then sewed back together." said Malformed.
"Ho!" blurted Rum/Goitre. Malformed frowned.
"What did you call my mum?" he snapped.

Groaning Girdle drifted out of the freezer compartment with a metallic grin. Her spectral orthodontics housed various unknown substances in the cage-like hooks.
"Come and see the androgynous girl, only eight ninety-five!" Groaning Girdle exclaimed, every 's' sounding phoneme being accentuated by a bubbling of saliva. 

"Wait 'til everyone finds out you've got testicles!"


--CHAPTER THIRTEEN--

Some suggested that Hormoany had digested one of Militant Bulltoad's slippers, with the accumulated fungal growth reacting with her high mestranol levels to create a testosterone surrogate.

Perves hurried past, pelting Germy Weakly with worms wearing tiny scuba diving gear.

"Why," asked Rum. "Have you got a 'Get Well' card from Dildoroy Lophart under your pillow… along with one from Flipwit, Snoop, Stout, MuckGonadal…?”

Hairy strode up to the last cubicle to find the contents of the toilet sprayed up the walls.
"These shoes are so gone once we're out of here." grimaced Rum.

"I was just sitting in the U-bend admiring the view when someone thought it would be funny to dump a gelatin puddle of diarrhoea on my head!" roared Groaning Girdle, a thin strip of celery that had caught in her braces flapped with every syllable.

"Can I take this foetid, jelly-like disc of human dysentery with me?" asked Hairy.  Groaning Girdle sniffed haughtily and turned up her nose.
"If I had a Gallow for every time I've heard that one…"

Hairy fiddled with the secreted diarrhoea in the Graafiandor cummin room, but was unable to uncover any extra writing. Gavin and Hormoany were fiddling with something else. (Their violas, you perverted pervert!) 

"Thank you, narrator!" Rum replied. (At least, it sounded like 'thank'…)

The postal parrots had been force-fed coloured dye with the use of a dictionary so that their droppings decorated the tables with pink, triangle-shaped splatterings.

"Why, already I have received four Coming-Out cards!" hollered Lophart cheerily. Hairy noticed Hormoany, Crappe and Boil sink low in their seats. Up on the staff table, Dumbodork’s head also slid out of view.

"While we're all in a gay state of mind, why not ask Profaner Flipwit for the Nipntuck Charm? And I'm sure Profaner Snoop will happily provide you with a Watered Wejussdo poaching."

The rest of the lesson was interrupted by fairy fairies delivering Queen ‘n’ Dyke notes. Strangely, only one was for a member of Dutch royalty.

"Hith thkin ith ath pink ath an apricot mink,
Hih hair ith ath hoarthe ath cheap glue.
Hith 'L' shaped thcab is jutht totally fab;
Get a Nipntuck and I'll have you."

Gavin began singing about different Mongolian cheeses.

Rum was sound asleep, his head resting against the dozing Hormoany. Hairy mischievously unwound a few feet of Hormoany's enormous tongue and began feeding it into Rum's mouth, then used Colon Creamy’s camera to record the priceless moment before returning the two to their original positions.

Punching Hodwog in the gut, Hairy collected a bowlful of parrot guano and plucked a feather from the bird's behind. Hodwog squawked indignantly.
"Thanks, Hodwog!" chirped Hairy. He dipped the feather into the vile vial of excreta and held it above the secreted diarrhoea. A drop of white crap quivered at the end, like a raindrop glistening from the tip of a leaf on the serene backdrop of a summer day, before splattering messily onto the solid puddle. It sat there, like a student at his desk, before disappearing.

‘My name is Hairy Potted’ he wrote, before the words were sucked into the solidified diarrhoea like an encounter with Hormoany. (After a snake bite, you disgraceful pervert!)

He was swallowed up by the swirling vortex of diarrhoea. (Find THAT in Shakespeare!)

Screaming in terror, Hairy performed a triple-flip to a straddle-pike landing.

"My mother died during childbirth. They say she lived long enough to name me. 'dum****' after my father, and ‘Kept Heed’ as my middle name, as she sensed that I was an eeevil baby."

"I'm sorry,” said Profaner Dipsheesh solemnly. “But with Silvery's hair-bearing heir scaring pairs of hares and tearing up mares in his lair down there, it isn't fair to keep students in fear, you hear?"

"But what if I found the Changer of Sequins?" blurted Ritalin. Profaner Dipsheesh leant in towards Ritalin, ramming ans ear-trumpet deep into his aural cavity.
"What was that? You want to find hounds endangered by sequels?"
The herdmaster’s face suddenly stiffened with comprehension as he repeated these words to himself under his breath.
"Are you saying you know something about Silvery’s hidden chamber?"

Guessing that he could probably act like a ghost in Ritalin’s memory, Hairy attemped to walk through a nearby wall. Moments later, Hairy was clutching a bloody nose.

After an hour of tedious waiting, Ritalin finally worked out the calculus problems on the blackboard and proceeded on.

Without warning, a gigantic pubic louse burst out and scuttled past Hairy. dum**** Ritalin threw a chunk of concrete after the monster. It hit Hormoany.

A rippling of light began tearing through the space/time continuum behind Hairy. He stretched out his hand in slow-motion.
"GAAANNNDDDAAALLLFFF!!!" he screamed. The narrator coughed.
"Oh, right… HAAAGGGGGGIIISSS!!!"

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/12/05 at 1:41 am

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/HermioneKate.jpg

--CHAPTER FOURTEEN--

"Are you sure it was Haggis?" asked Hormoany. Hairy rolled his eyes.
"How many fat Scotsmen do we know with an obsession for huge animals?" Just then, Chubby McFinn ran past on his trek to capture Loch Ness.

A dog was squashed flat beneath him.
"It's a dog's life!" joked Nibble, before cuffing himself over the back of the head.

Hairy gasped out loud. It was horrible… his bed was made, his books were alphabetically ordered on his desk and the bastard had neatly aligned all of his clothing in a spectrum.
"NOOOO!" Hairy cried to the heavens.

"Well, it has to have been a girl." commented Hairy. Rum nodded in agreement as his female sibling Germy walked past.
"Yeah, no boy could tidy a room like that… and they have orange hair." said Rum, holding up the strand of incriminating evidence from Hairy’s floor. Germy walked past them again, combing her orange hair and folding up her ironing.
"And they'd have to be in Graafiandor." Hairy added. Germy walked past once more, smoothing out her Graafiandor tutu. Rum suddenly sat up.
"GERMY!" he shouted triumphantly. Germy turned quickly at the mention of her name.
"Y-yes?" she stuttered nervously. Rum stormed over to her aggressively.
"Germy… do YOU know any orange-headed Graafiandor girls who have been acting suspiciously?"

"Thank god Philadelphia made at up with Amber Jr the third, her doppelganger's reincarnated spirit, before murdering Wisconsin found out about the triple homicide!"
Hairy and Rum stared silently at the motionless Hormoany. Behind them, Madam Pomfret was calling a time of death and slowly pulling a white sheet over the mutilated face of the caped Assisting Capybara.

Students were no longer allowed out at night time, were to hold hands between lessons and sleep with a night-light on.

Haggis opened the door, toting a warhammer. His pet dog Frang struggled at his lead armed with a sub-automatic machine gun.

Rum sank his teeth into a scone, retched and hastily returned it to Frang's kitty litter box.

The Minionster o’ Magic extinguished his cigar on Frang's head, then looped his violin case around his elbows, flung it up and caught it behind his back. Just then, another knock sounded on the door. It wasn't Snoop, it wasn't Vulvamork, it wasn't even Haggis. It was Malformed, Luscious Malformed.

"Yez can' get rid o' Bulbous Dumbodork! Tha'll mean the author will 'ave the go out o' his usual plot formula and actually think o’ somethin' creative fer once!"

"What has he done to deserve such disrespect?" Fridge snapped.
"Should I start alphabetically or in chronological order?" Mr Malformed replied wittily.
"Alphabetically." replied Fridge. Luscious Malformed faltered for a few moments.
"Ermr… well, nothing, really. Just make like a fired herdmuster and… fudge off!"

"I like cheese!" added Gavin.
“Right! I warned you!” shouted Rum. He leapt up into the air and remained hovering in a menacing pose as the camera angle rotated around him 270 degrees. As Ralphing's Law of Fiction wore off, Rum let fly with a powerful kick to Gavin's chest, the snorkeling dork cartwheeling backwards into a wall, like a… gee, I don't know what like…

"Hmm…" mumbled Rum.
"Hmm…" mumbled Hairy, a little higher and louder. Rum frowned.
"HMM…" he mumbled clamorously.
"HMM!!!" replied Hairy, even more obstreperously.
"HMMM!!!" Rum roared into the back of his throat.
"HMMMMMMNNNNNNGGGFFFTTTTTRRRMMMMMM!!!!!" bellowed Hairy.
"… … …fudge you!" snapped Rum.

The two regained their previous thinking poses. They pondered the situation a bit longer.
"Should we leave now?" asked Rum. Hairy blinked.
"…yeah."


--CHAPTER FIFTEEN--

Hairy wondered how a portly middle-aged nurse brandishing a rectal-thermometer was supposed to thwart Silvery's monster.

“Today you shall poach a weight-loss concoction for our dear janitor Haggis, who is currently too fat to fit inside any cells at Afghaniztan.”

Malformed sucked-up to Profaner Snoop like a Hoover with a lollipop. Profaner Snoop couldn't suppress a wicked smile, or a flatulent expulsion.

The plants had already engraved obscene tattoos into their pulps and swapped bodily-function-interrupting piercings.

Hairy suddenly beat Rum over the head with a shovel.
"Ow, what was that for?" Rum cried, then stopped and looked to where Hairy was pointing. Gavin was waving a large yellow flag with an arrow on it which pointed to a line of pubic lice that were scuttling into the Forbidding Forest.

"The Minionstry wouldn't have taken away Rubicund Haggis unless they were certain he was behind it all!" said Lophart, as if explaining one and point-nine-repeater was two.

Hairy wolfed down green eggs and ham for dinner.

Rum poured some magical petrol over a magical taper and lit it with magical matches.

Adelgids of all magnitudes congregated around them, from the size of marbles to... gigantic marbles.

"Haggis is in trouble." continued Hairy nervously, wondering if Rum had a few hundred  cans of Vagiclean handy.

"Now that fresh meat has wandered here on its own accord…" Adelgid licked his pincers as the pubic lice began closing in.
"Actually, we were forecfully carried here." retorted Hairy. Adelgid faltered.
"Oh… well… screw you, we're hungry!"

"See you guys later, I have a date with a star-nosed mole!" shouted the van.

Rum was being violently sick in Haggis’ grapefruit patch, before being dramatically sick and comedically sick.

Hairy realised that whatever Silvery's monster was, it was feared by all the animal kingdom just like the Bleak Nerd was to sorcerers… the name of Silvery's beast was a taboo, euphemised out of fear just as Vulvamork’s name was… or perhaps Hairy was just reading too deeply into this shallow novel.

Pussy Weakly had mastered the art of growing his ear-hairs to grab his baton from the bedside table. He jinxed off the ropes that bound him to his bed, then swung up to the sick bay using brachiation of the ear lobes. After several weeks of anorexia treatment from Madam Pooch, he was back to normal health and his vocal chords were as strong as ever.


--CHAPTER SIXTEEN--

Unfortunately, Rum's baton still hadn't shifted from his skull, shooting beach towels out of his mouth whenever he squinted.

Rum sneezed, causing a random Canadian to catch on fire. Hairy began stuffing Rum's nostrils with cotton balls.
"It's either this or explain to MTV why Avril Latrine spontaneously combusted during the filming of her video-clip 'I H8 2 B N XTC 4 U’."

Amenorrhean quadriplegics.

"Your associates will return shortly." said MuckGonadal. The room broke into fits of giggles at the sound of the word 'butt'.
"Silence, class!" she rapped. The class roared with laughter.
"Stop that crassness or I'll assassinate you all!" Students pounded the carpet with mirth.
"Oh, fudge it! tick off to lunch, you little cs!"

"Do you have to go that bad?" joked Gavin.
"Yes." replied Hairy.
"Oh..." said Gavin. He stood placidly for a few seconds, then ate a piece of cheese.

"I'm sick of people always addressing Hairy first! Why don't you ever say 'Master Weakly, Master Potted', instead of always putting the famous Hairy Potted in front?" roared Rum. Profaner MuckGonadal was taken back.
"Err… well, it's alphabetical, I suppose… Potted comes before Weakly…"
"Why not base it on first names?" he spat. Profaner MuckGonadal blinked.
"Hairy still comes before Rum alphabetically." Rum broke into a grin.
"Great! Well, I'm glad that I managed to prolong those awkward first moments that Hairy has to think of a decent alibi. What did you come up with?"

As Rum and Hairy turned the corner, they distinctively heard Profaner MuckGonadal emit a gurgling burp and scratch her genitals.

The other victims of Silvery's monster each lay frozen on their beds, less animated than Al Gore in a coma.

Hairy tried prying the paper from out of Hormoany’s fingers, but her grip was very tight  from years of practise. (She played cricket you heinous pervert!)

"Of the many fearsome creatures that roam our lands, there is none more deadly than the Batholith, also called the Queen of Anguilliformes. This eel may reach huge lengths and live as long as Joan Rivers. The Batholith is born from a maternal lesbian ovum under an artificial-insemination microscope. It will take orders from other Queens, mainly cross-dressers donning sequinned gowns. The Batholoth’s methods of killing are wondrous… for a  PG-rating, anyway. This creature’s Mourning Breath can cause instant death, and pubic lice flee from it, as it causes a fatal enema. The Batholith fears only the body odour of a flamingo."

"The victims mustn't have copped the full force of lethal halitosis. Colon was recording with his camcorder, so the radiation emitting from the shoddy device must have filtered the bad breath… Mrs Notorious was outside Groaning Girdle's horrendously malodorous toilets, so those fumes must have weakened the impact… and Justout Finch-Retching had that wad of cheese crammed up his nostrils by Gavin." said Hairy.
“But what about Hormoany and Envelope Drainwater?" asked Rum. Hairy turned.
“Oh, I never noticed… both of them are wearing gas masks!”

"How did it get around though?" queried Rum.
"Look at what Hormoany wrote… Poops!" read Hairy.
"What, was Hormoany describing us?" Rum asked dimly.
"No, it was disguising itself among those poops in Groaning Girdle's toilet! I've been hearing it being flushed around the institute!"

The two slid inside the staff room closet. Hairy pushed out Rosie O' Donnell as Rum crammed up against Eminem, who was cleaning out the closet.

Madam Pfalz was engraving several gammadions and flyfots into her arm with a scalpel.
Profaner Tralala winced as a fleck of blood spritzed across her face.

All of the Profaners leant in closer to hear and the simultaneous 'clunk' as their heads collided secretly pleased Hairy.

"Sorry I'm late, I just can't resist a good fungal growth when I see one!" Lophart chirped.

Hairy and Rum headed back to Graafiandor, their hearts full of sorrow and their socks full of dried urine. Frig and Gorge Weakly were too shocked to talk, so both simultaneously attempted to determine the sound of one clapping by using their shared shrunked arm.

"Do you think there's any chance that she's still... you know..." Rum couldn't finish his sentence, but Hairy understood what he had meant. He could hardly see how Germy would be playing croquet at this time.

Knock Knock.
"Who's there?"
"Rum."
"Rum who?"
"Rum-maging through your stuff are you?" asked Rum.

Knock Knock.
"Who's there?"
"Hairy."
"Hairy who?"
"Hairy up and open the door!"

"Look, one of that stuff would have sold if I hadn't done them. I mean, that slutty vampire slayer had the most fake breasts..." Hairy scowled.
"So you just stole stories from other people and claimed all the glory?" Hairy put his hands on his hips and tutted heavily with a tone of utter disgust.
"That has to be the most spineless, pathetic things that you can do! Blatantly riding the coat tails of someone else's work and calling it your own!" he roared. Luke Brattoni chuckled sheepishly.

Rum looked at Lophart as if he was a diseased rodent that had travelled through the Hudson River filtering system and then been minced into a pie.

"Expelyouranus!" shouted Hairy. Lophart was launched into the ceiling from the violent expulsion of gas from his rear, his baton spiralling out of the window. It hit Hormoany.

"Do you want fries with that, witch?" said Hairy coolly. Rum laughed.
"Ha! With derisive wit like that, you could be an actio-" he stopped short as Homer Simpson cuffed the back of his head.

"Oldlid Horny was teasing me about my horrendously grotesque dental gear, so I came in here to cry…" Groaning Girdle paused for dramatic emphasis, then realised that this particular book was no place for any dramatic technique whatsoever.

Hairy leant down to the hand-dryer. There was an eel-like engraving on it
"Speak to it." said Rum.
"Hello, my name's Dildoroy Lophart." said Profaner Lophart.
"I meant Hairy, you idiot!" Rum spat.
"Open up." uttered Hairy. He cast an enquiring look over to Rum.
"Spanish." said Rum.

The hand dryer spun into the wall, revealing a giant hole.
"Yeah, a giant hole in the plot!" Rum shouted at Groaning Girdle. "With the loud grinding noise that this makes opening-up every time, haven't you ever noticed a blimmin’ huge Batholith sliding in and out of here?" Groaning Girdle nodded.
"Yeah, heaps of times." she replied. The groans from the audience echoed far and wide… far and wide…

"No wonder none of the previous herdmusters ever found Silvery’s chamber, it was in a girl's bathroom and thanks to the ancient Glass Ceiling bewitchment, every head of Dogfarts thus far has been male."

"Well, it looks like you guys are set to go!" said Lophart, edging towards the exit.
"Oh, no you don't!" warned Rum, aiming his baton at Lophart.
"Hang on… he's right!" Hairy said unexpectantly. "We ARE set! We've found the entrance to the chamber! Taking Lophart along will only slow us down, reducing our chances of saving Germy." Rum lowered his baton, then suddenly jerked it up again.
"I don't care how illogical it is, he’s coming with us!"

"A fridge I can understand, but… an internet washing machine?"

Plucking a wet bra from his head, Rum stood up. Hairy screamed in shock.
"What?" asked Rum. His hair was no longer vomit orange, but shocking white. His freckly skin had gone pale and his pupils were pink.
"You've become an Albino!" Hairy said.
"Must’ve be the bleach." commented Lophart casually, his hair the same as usual.

"Hairy Potted and the Changer of Sequins breaks boundaries of originality."
"Jake A. Ralphing scores again with this utterly necessary sequel."
"We enter the fourteenth month of Luke Tennant Oswald Brattoni's genius."

Dildoroy tutted as he got mud on his high heels.

Haggis-sized women with tentacles.

"Remember, hold your breath at any sign of movement." whispered Hairy. He took a step forward.
"AAARGH! A SIGN OF MOVEMENT!" yelled Rum.

"Are you going to... Scream?" asked Hairy.
"Only if you... Scream 2!" Rum replied. Lophart nodded.
"Yeah, I think Silvery was a real... Psycho." guffawed Lophart.
"He was only one founder, what about... The Others?" asked Hairy.
"This cheesy set could easily start an… Urban Legend." said Rum. 
"OK, OK, we need to kill the Batholith. Let’s be... Gone in 60 Seconds." said Hairy.
"That sounds like... A Perfect Murder." chortled Rum.
"…uh, seriously. Let's get a move on."

Lophart suddenly got up and tossed a large chunk of rock at Rum. It whizzed past him and straight up a nearby pipe. The rock shot out of the top of the pipe and soared through the air into the Sick Bay. It it Hormoany.

Lophart hit his head a stalagmite… or is it a stalactite… erm, a Stalingrad?

"Aha!" Lophart cried victoriously. "The tables have turned!" he grinned. All of the tables up in Dogfarts were obliged to swivel around 180 degrees.

"I just had a magical rod torn from my urethra. Do you fudging THINK I'm OK?"

The eerie pillars lining the path appeared to be alive. (In actual fact, they were alive and the light was playing tricks on his eyes to make them seem inanimate.)

An inspirational flash came over Hairy. (Heh heh, ‘flash’. Heh heh, ‘came’.)

Hairy stepped inside… and screamed. It wasn't Snoop, it wasn't Vulvamork, it wasn't even Haggis. And no, not Malformed either.
It was…

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/12/05 at 1:44 am

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/DracoMathers.jpg

--CHAPTER SEVENTEEN--

"…Gavin?!"

Hairy's eyes scoured the room. Once finished, the room was sparkling clean.

"Wake up, Germy!
All the worms are wriggling!
Wake up, Germy!
Wriggle along, too!"

Surely it couldn't be... but as the man stepped into the light, Hairy saw it indeed was...
"Quibble." said Hairy.

"But Hormoany, Rum and I worked it all out! Dum-bass Ritalin is the young Nerd Vulvamork. He's an Arcelmouth like Silvery was, somehow passing that talent on to me when he tried killing me! Ritalin used Haggis as a cover for himself. He exerted his spirit into that diarrhoea to toy with future generations… Germy was obviously the one who found it in Groaning Girdle's lavatory and was possessed to attack everyone. She threw it back into the toilet after learning of what she'd done and then stole it back from me! It all fits!" Hairy broke off, panting heavily. Profaner Quibble allowed himself a sly grin.
"Yes, it does all fit. That's what makes it the perfect crime. I had everyone fooled, even you and your nosy friends, even though I’ve been the bad guy from the start!” With a hearty laugh, Quibble swished Hairy’s magic rod as he shouted “Punagram!" causing several words to appear hovering infront of Hairy.
PROFANER QUIBBLE
The letters then rearranged themselves to read:
THE GOOD GUY OF THE BOOK
“‘Profaner Quibble’ doesn’t rearrange into ‘the good guy of the book’.” frowned Hairy.
“Exactly!” replied Quibble.

"But how did you do it? You've been a flower garden for the past year!" said Hairy.  Profaner Quibble’s eyes flashed.
"Indeed, you did a good job of me last year, draining me of my power." Quibble cast a fierce glance at the floor, his fez of peonies and xeranthemums bobbing up and down.
"I was unable to move, unable to live. But then, to my luck, your Hempology class began dumping excess fertiliser onto me after lessons. Immediately, I felt a surge of energy. Each week I grew more and more powerful, but had no moveable form to transfer this methane-based power to." Quibble's face was alive as he spoke, becoming more and more in focus as time passed. Hairy knew that Germy didn't have much time left.
"So, I was caged within the earth with a build-up of potential power until your friend Rum Weakly got a case of wormal-diarrhoea. A stray worm shot out of Haggis’ hut and  landed on me. I immediately fed it with some of my power and sent the worm to bring more and more followers until I had a small army at my disposal. I sent them to implant the hair of Silvery into an unsuspecting victim." Profaner Quibble motioned to Germy.
"Who better than a close friend of Hairy Potted? I would not have a body to carry out my plans and hit Hairy Potted where it hurts. The boy who banished me to a mere aesthetic floral decoration..." Quibble kept pointing the baton at Hairy, but tossed the diarrhoea to the side. It frisbeed into Gavin’s head.
"So my worms planted the hair of Silvery into my old secreted diarrhoea. Once Germy was asleep, the hair crawled into her head and latched onto her brain, an antenna for me to feed myself into. Each day the hair of Silvery would leech energy from Germy Weakly and I would grow more powerful. I soon could control young Germy Weakly to go smearing messages and killing off flamingos to throw off everybody into thinking that Silvery's monster was a Batholith. However, it was the worms which attacked those victims from below, boring into their feet to paralyse them. This was all to fulfil my ultimate plan." Hairy scanned his mind for a way to save Germy, but found nothing.
"Well, it’s ironic that you made all those clues draw people away from discovering you as the culprit, when it directly lead me right to you anyway." said Hairy. Profaner Quibble gave a long, drawn out sigh of one trying to teach quadratic formulas to a four-year old.
"Don't you realise what all of this was for? I do not care for the girl, she was a mere pawn to get me into human form again. My plan was to lead you down here, Hairy. YOU. I can now take my revenge on you for destroying the Philanderer's Stein!" Hairy blinked as an aura flashed around Quibble, he was almost human again. The peonies and xeranthemums had wilted from his fez and had fallen to the floor. Most of the foliage that encased his chest was crinkling up.
"You may be an Arcelmouth, but we are both also Acanthotongues. We can speak to worms!" Quibble lifted up his tutu and flashed Hairy Potted. A humungous worm snaked out from where he should have had an… appendage.

"So, the great Dumbodork sends Hairy Potted a flatulent phoenix, an old hatch and the remnants of a tutoring lesson?"

Hairy lifted up the salt cellar like a bazooka and began twisting it side to side. Saline crystals sprayed violently across the giant worm. It hissed and bubbled, foam frothing down from its body as it writhed in pain. Pellets of salt rained down onto the floor like bullet casings.

"You were great, Forks." murmered Hairy softly, as a wave of red washed over his eyes, followed by a saffron tsunami.

"Do not fear, Hairy. The force is within you." Hairy looked around.
"Is that you again, Hormoany?" he asked weakly.
"No, you idiot! Listen to my drab, monotonous male voice! I'm the narrator! You may feel weak, but I am here to help you overcome this pain, for the tradition of sappy endings is on your side!"

Hairy reached into Germy’s curly orange Afro and plucked out a single black hair.
"Aha! The hair of Silvery! This is what has been draining all of Germy's health away, and there's only one way she can get it back!" As Quibble wiped Forks' intestines from his face, Hairy slid through the man’s legs and rammed his thumb upwards, Hopoate style.

"NOOOO- ALGOLAGNIC- AMPHIMIXIS- ANUS- AREOLA- A***- A**- BALLS- BASTARD- BAWDRY- BESTIALITY- B****- BLADDER- BLOODY- BLOWING- BONDAGE- BOOBS- BOWELS- BUGGER- BUTTOCKS- CAESAREAN- CARNAL- CHUCK- CHUNDER- CIRCUMCISION- CLOACA- CLEAVAGE- CLITORIS- C***- COITUS- COLONIC- C***- COPROPHILIA- CRAP- CROTCH- CUM- CUNNILINGUS- C***- D***- DEFECATION- DEMIMONDAINE- DIAPHRAGM- DICK- DILDO- DIURETICS- DUNG- DYKE- ENEMAS- EONISM- EPICENE- EPISIOTOMY- ERECTION- EXCRETA- EXHIBITIONISM- FAECES- F*****- FELLATIO- FERTILISER- FESTING- FETISHES- FINGERBANG- FONDLE- FRAENULUM- FROTTAGE- F***ING- FUDGEPACKER- GAY- GENITALIA- GLANS- GLUTEUS MAXIMUS- GONORRHOEA- GUANO- HARLOT- HEADJOB- HELL- HERMAPHRODITE- HOMO- HOOTERS- HUMPING- HURL- HYMEN- INCEST- INCONTINENCE- INCUBUS- INTERCOURSE- IVF- JERK- JIZZ- KNOB- LABIA- LACTATION- LAVATORY- LAXATIVE- LAY- LECHERY- LESBIANS- MAMMARIES- MASOCHISM- MASTURBATE- MEATUS- MECONIUM- MENSTRUATION- MICTURITION- MOLESTING- MUFF- MUSTH- NADS- NECROPHILIA- N*****- NIPPLES- NOOKY- NUBILE- NUTS- NYMPHOS- OESTRUS- ONANISM- ORDURE- ORGASM- ORGY- ORIFICE- OVARY- PAEDOPHILIA- PARTHENOGENESIS- PEDERASTY- PENIS- PERINEUM- PERVERSION- PESSARY- PHALLUS- PISSING- PIZZLE- PLATONIC- POO- PORNOGRAPHY- POTTY- PRIAPUS- PR***- PROSTATE- PRURIENT- PUBIC- PUDENDA- PUKING- P****- QUADRIPARTITE- QUALM- QUEEN- QUEER- RACK- RECTUM- RIMJOB- RUBBER- RUTTING- SAPPHIC- SATYR- SCATOLOGY- SCREW- SEMEN- SEX- SHAG- sheeshTING- SISSY- SIXTY NINER- SMEGMA- SODOMY- SLUT- SPECULUM- SPEW- SPHINCTER- STALING- STERCORACEOUS- SUCCUBI- TAMPON- TESTICLE- THREESOME- T**S- TOILET- TOOL- TRAMP- TRIBADIST- TRANSVESTITES- TROILISM- TURD- URETHRA - URINATION- VAGINA- VENEREAL- VESICA- VIAGRA- VIBRATOR- VIRGINITY- VOMIT- VOYEUR- VULVA- WANKER- WANTON- WHOREHOUSE- XRATED- YANK- YEAN- YOUNKER TUGGER- ZABAGLIONE OF THE FORESKIN- OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

Lophart formed the word 'equestrians' on the Scrabble board.

The small, bald, fleshy phoenix looked like something Hormoany would roll around in her mouth. (Chewing gum, you vile pervert!)

Hairy considered the prospect of slitting his wrists so he could spend his afterlife in a toilet with a moping ghost who housed eight pounds of metallic orthodontics in her mouth. He strangely declined.


--CHAPTER EIGHTEEN--

Gavin went on to explain his point of view from the spectator's seat, and then moved on to his knowledgeable taste in exotic dairy curdlings.

"Germy, what have I always told you?" said Mr Weakly. Germy sniffed.
"Check him for a rash before you do anything rash?" she recited. Mr Weakly coughed.
"Err... no, not that. You should never consolidate with something if you can't see where it keeps its brain!" Germy frowned.
"But I can't see your brain." she replied.

“Look, I'll come clean. I'm just as incompetent as Dildoroy Lophart. Why did I not know about Profaner Quibble last year? Why else are you constantly the one who has to resolve all of my problems?"

"Wait," growled Dumbodork. "I stick to my word. When you rammed into the Humping Sallow at the start of the year, I wrote to your parents and guardians saying that any more unruly behaviour would end up with you being expelled. You and Rum Weakly will not return to Dogfarts Institute of Wizardry and Weird Plots after this year." Rum and Hairy stood flabbergasted in the doorway.
"This means you also lose all of your House points. Hecklepuck wins again!"

Luscious Malformed eyed Dumbodork suspiciously through a telescope.

Dumbodork raised an eyebrow by using an elaborate set of pulleys.

"Can I give the diarrhoea back to Mr Malformed?" asked Hairy. Dumbodork blinked.
"Well, I just plainly explained how it’s the only evidence we have to prove Germy Weakly's innocence, but go right ahead!"

Dodgy was clutching Hormoany’s lace underwear as if it was pure gold, as numerous male students would have done.
"Master threw the nightie and Dodgy caught it! Giving a house-imp the undergarments of a hot chick breaks the bond of enslavement! Dodgy is free!"

"Thank you, Hairy Potted!" beamed Dodgy. (At least, it sounded like 'thank'!)

"So, you solved it!" chirped Hormoany. Hairy and Rum threw her dark looks.
"Actually, no, we were completely wrong. Your bloody clues led us to a near-death experience and now we're expelled!" Hormoany blinked.
"Expelled? Who gives a crap about how many rules we broke, we stopped any more students being attacked!” yelled Hormoany. Dumbodork appeared from nowhere.
"Of course! How stupid of me! Miss Ginger, as you were also involved in this behaviour, you are also expelled!" Dumbodork disappeared. Hormoany gaped, thunderstruck.
"But this is my first strike, I never had any previous warning!" she yelled to deaf ears.

Hairy, Rum and Hormoany were too saddened, dysphoric, lamentable, deplorable, inspirited, gloomy, unhappy, miserable, woeful, wretched, infelicitous, disheartened, nostalgic, dejected and full of melancholy to be cheerful, joyous, content, happy, euphoric, elysian, mafficking, riant, halcyon or full of mirth.

Germy, Frig and Gorge came and sat in their carriage. Hairy looked up.
"Hey, we never did find out what you walked in on Pussy doing." he said.
"Oh, that. Pussy's been going out with Envelope Drainwater, that Ravercork Defect. She's who he kept e-mailing all this time." Germy stopped and nibbled on a horseradish.
"So anyway, I walked in on him, her and a goat… well..." Following the old belief that a picture is worth a thousand words, Germy sketched them a diagram. The others looked at it oddly. She turned it sideways and their expressions changed.
"Is that his...? Yuck!" spewed Hairy.
"Are they actually...? Gross!" barfed Frig.
"How did those fit inside her…? Foul!" retched Gorge.
"And what's that stuff poking out of his...? Oh, that’s off, man!" hurled Rum.
"Hmm, interesting technique with the whips and axle grease, I might try it out some time." said Hormoany. Everyone looked at her.
"I mean... erm… Disgusting!" Hormoany blurted sheepishly.

“Uh-oh, I think we left him tied up to his bed.” said Rum.
"This will be a looong wait until next year!" carolled Hairy.

Leaping off the Dogfarts Excess, Hormoany's tutu flew up as she jumped, revealing that she was wearing nothing underneath. (She was nude Get over it.)

At this point  the narrator began cackling, laughing, chortling, giggling, smirking, s******ing, braying, tittering, chuckling, guffawing, cachinnating, cacking his head off and roaring with exaggerated riant mirth for an entire millisecond.

It wasn't Snoop, it wasn't Vulvamork, it wasn't even Haggis. It was... Mr Parsley. Hairy blinked. Thrice.
"How did you manage to harness Ralphing's law of fiction? There are anti-Muffin charms against it." said Hairy. The hand of Mr Parsley tore off a latex mask.
"I'm not a Muffin!" rasped the hideous, skull-white face beneath. Hormoany did Scream. Rum did Scream 2. Hairy did Scream 3.

The fully grown Dum-bass Ritalin whipped out his baton, spelling out his name mid-air.
DUM-BASS KEPT-HEED RITALIN.
The levitating letters rearranged to form the words:
BARE NAKED IDLE SH*T STUMP?
Dumb Ritalin smacked his baton on a nearby lamp post and tried again.
I AM THE BLEAK NERD, STUPIDS!

Hairy Potted was as speechless, thunderstruck, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, shocked, boggled surprised and bowled over as when he had been told he was expelled from Dogfarts.
"So Quibble really wasn't the Bleak Nerd after all!" burst Hairy.
"Yes, an ingenious plan, isn't it?" replied Vulvamork, his jagged mouth forming a horrendous imitation of a sneer.

Hormoany and Rum struggled for words. All that came to mind were 'aplomb', 'certificate' and 'transuretero-ureterostomy.'

"You and your friends simply found out too much, so I brought Quibble back to life with the power that my old secreted diarrhoea leeched from Germy Weakly. As you guessed, her spirit was drawn into his body. I crafted a story for Quibble to tell you should you ever meet. As this was predictably inevitable, I enchanted Quibble to grow that... appendage… to fight you. I knew you would defeat his sorry butt just like last year. And just like last year you would go around spreading the story of your heroics. Dumbodork would believe that Quibble was the culprit and was now dead, so everyone would drop their guard and travel home completely unaware of the danger ahead."
"No!" shouted Hairy. He felt faint, a hundred icy blades sliding down his stomach.
"No… NO!" he yelled, but could now see that it all fit together. Quibble pretending the Changer of Sequins story was a decoy was a decoy in itself. Hairy had had it right the first time with his rational, coherent explanation.

"That fateful day twelve years ago left me marred by this bung leg." Vulvamork hobbled a few steps forward. “I loathed growing in up in Brighton Orphange, never knowing where my father was. I often wandered for days on end through London searching for him. Then I discovered him with his new bride… a New Zealand ovine. I've hated Cudbloods ever since." Ritalin broke off from his reverie, glaring at Hairy with a fiery malice.
"But enough about my Freudian motives. I should take the high road… take your lives…"

"Wait!” yelled Hairy. “This isn't supposed to happen! I have to uncover the true identity of Simian Bleak, hurl my guts out in Deference Against the Bleak Arts classes, enter into the Tripewizened Tournament, see the Spinach Whirled Cup and then have a sheeshload of cameos to assist in our thousand-profanity wonder-page! "

Hairy's scab gave a lurch, causing Hairy to have cravings for koala meat.

Vulvamork  leant right down to Hairy so that his nostril slits drew in the smell of Hairy's beading sweat.
"Well, we wouldn't want to have to go through with another one of these rip-offs." glared Vulvamork. With eyes glued to Hairy, Vulvamork cocked jos shotgun, then blasted Hormoany in the chest. Specks of carmine fluid spattered across Rum's pale face. Hairy stood numb with shock as her body crumpled to the ground. Ritalin leered at Hairy. 
"I especially couldn't handle any more of these god-awful books." With another swift arm movement, the shotgun was reloaded. A second shot rent the salient silence. Hairy was vaguely aware of a heavy thump to his left and a hot, sticky fluid crawling down his face.
"Two down. Now, after I kill you, I’ll be totally carefree!" Vulvamork gave a cruel laugh.

Hairy's scab was now pulsing with pain. He knelt down, fighting off his newfound impulses to run up the nearest eucalyptus tree with a boomerang.

"You are defeated, Hairy Potted. Why? Because I have always known about your adventures, your life, and especially you." Nerd Vulvamork pumped the shotgun one fianl time, pointed the gun barrel to Hairy's chest and fired.

Hairy felt himself being thrown backwards as the gunshot echoed throughout the desolate station. He landed among the other dead bodies of his friends and fellow classmates. The platform was caked in spattered blood and gore. Hairy gargled a hot fluid in his lungs and retched as he clutched his chest. The pain was unbearable, every movement seemed to increase the agony tearing through his torso. Glancing down, he could see blood bubbling out from his punctured lungs. His mind swivelled and his head collapsed back onto the ground. He was unable to breathe, focusing his energy on compressing the endless flow of blood issuing from his chest. He barely noticed the sound of Nerd Vulvamork swivelling on his heel to leave the platform. A large advertisement stuck on the wall behind where Hairy had been previously standing caught his attention.
'Discover your Freudian motives! Call 1900-PSYCHIC-OLOGIST’
Hairy recalled Vulvamork mentioning a Freudian motive… The grown Dum-bass Ritalin tossed his smoking shotgun into a nearby trash can as he limped heavily towards the exit.
Hairy's brain was screaming for air as viscous fluid seeped endlessly through his clutched fingers. His eyes caught sight of another poster.
‘Take the high road- Visit Scotland today!’
Vulvamork's voice echoed somewhere in the back of his fading mind. '... I should take the high road… take your lives...' Hairy’s elbow brushed Hormoany, who was lying motionless beside him, as he noticed an advertisement for Carefree tampons on the wall. He choked as a wave of blood spilled from his mouth and poured down his chin. Vulvamork had mentioned how he would be ‘carefree’ after killing Hairy... he had almost reached the wall that led down to the Muffin world. Hairy's swirling mind fought to figure out the meaning of Vulvamork's soliloquy. "I have always known about your adventures, your life… and especially you." Hairy felt his heart stop beating below his palms. A final thought sprung into his mind as his eyelid slowly sank. 'I especially can't handle any more these god-awful books!' What had Vulvamork meant? Hairy's eyes dilated, his bowels released their contents and he was dead.

Vulvamork stopped limping as he reached the wall. He turned, as if embracing the serene finality that radiated from the scene of carnage. His silhouetted form ripped off another mask and he disappeared from the platform. The figure's feet limped an ungainly pace down the Muffin path, then slowly evened out into a regular pace as they stepped out into the street. A young boy sitting wearily at a park bench watched the feet tread by. He grabbed his mother’s sleeve.
"Mummy! Look! It's J. K. Rowling!" he cried excitedly. The mother shooshed her child by bludgeoning his head with a bag of caramel. The boy considered running up to the woman for an autograph, but stopped at the sight of blood flecked across her shirt. Instead, he sat down on the pavement and began ramming slices of cheese into his ear.

A moment later, J. K. Rowling had melted into the rest of the bustling suburban crowd; another speck of colour blended into the mosaic of life.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/16/05 at 9:31 pm

Far From The Tree

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/Oak.jpg

An ancient oak stands on a blade of rock
Under inky seas of shattered stars
Rooted deep into black earth
Caked in naked bark
Limbs snake out, calling to the sky
Twisting, entwining like gnarled fingers
Grinning thorns of wicked crimson
Licking the sky
Clawlike twigs lash wind and snow
Thrashing, gnashing,
Slashing gossamer strands into tatters
Which flutter to the earth below
Skeletons of leaves carpet the dead soil
Pulsing with decay
Damp from teardrop snowflakes
That slowly melt to oil
And I, I am the rotten fruit
With weeping skin and exposed core
Raw and fallen
Lost and mute
Banished by ancient eyes who don't forget
I fell far from the tree, and yet
The further I try to escape
The closer I appear to get.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/19/05 at 10:10 pm

WARNING: Copious amounts of censored profanity, sexual references and purile innuendo.

Hairy Potted and the Prismer of Afghaniztan quotes

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/HairyPotted.jpg

--CRAPILOGUE--

“Ezekiel? EZEKIEL?!” shouted Hormoany.
“Uh, my name’s Hairy.” prompted Hairy.
“Oh yeah, sorry… Hairy? HAIRY?!”

Hairy blearily opened his eyes. Hormoany was shaking his shoulders and Rum was observing the female response to not wearing a bra when shaking someone.

“Aren’t we all dead?” Hairy mumbled in his confused state.
“Well, Rum might smell like decomposing matter, but we’re very much alive. You were having a nightmare.” said Hormoany.
“How do you know I was having a nightmare?” asked Hairy.
“Well, you kept screaming ‘Aaah! I’m in a nightmare!’” said Rum.

Specks of spattered blood on the window told Hairy that they had hit yet another owl.

“Hi, Mr Parsley!” chirped Hairy.
“Bite me, witch!” snapped Mr Parsley in reply.

Unco Vermin greedily slurped a gollop of custard into his mouth, oblivious to the roadkill.

“See ya, Hairy!” called Rum.
“See ya, Hairy!” called Hormoany
“See ya, Hairy!” called Evan.
“Who the hell are you?” asked Hairy. A midget was bobbing up and down energetically infront of him with a frightening smile on his face.
“See ya Hairy!” he repeated.
“…’kay.” said Hairy weakly, quickly scampering away.

Right, onto the story now...Not that that wasn’t the story, it’s just that it was the end of the last one. Or the start of this one...no, no, no. The last one definitely ended with... and this one is just following on... well, it was sort of the in-the-middle thing that sums up the previous story and begins this one. Not that they’re not the same story… well, they are but… you know… not the SAME story. I guess it was sort of a story on it’s own- one of the SAME stories...on it’s own… even though it’s in this story... I dunno, maybe half of it should have been in the last book and the second half in this book... but that would still make it part of one story and not of the... wait wait wait, if they’re the same story just continued on in different books, then it doesn’t matter which one it’s in, right? Well, I guess they ARE a different story… I mean... then that means it was a follow-on from a story that will be continued into this one… even though they’re the same. But  seeing as the last story semi-ended, it simply filled-in the two prior to starting this semi-started one... which will begin the one after that... I guess it depends on the half-full/half-empty glass theory… did we just start  this one or end the last one... THE SAME last one, with this .new one... and the glass is half... …I dunno, I’ve lost myself. What was I saying? …I forget. …Oh, that’s right! Onto the story...


--CHAPTER ONE--

It always took lengthy explanations from a villain before Hairy could understand anything.

Due to the Parsleys having psychotechnophobia, magic was not allowed in their Orphanage.

While the Parsleys had gone outside to sniff concrete, Hairy had seized the opportunity and eaten all of the jelly crystals. This is why he was up so late doing homework, he had been uncontrollably chattering his teeth all day and shouting ‘Whoopitydoop!’ whenever he saw anything coloured blue.

Hairy looked up at the clock. The big hand was on the two and the little hand was on the twelve. This was very odd as the clock was digital.

He closed his book and tossed it toward his bag. It hit Evan.
“I like cheese!”

Hairy sighed as he lay back on his bed with a sigh. Oh wait, he’d already sighed. Scrap the last one.

Hairy Potted was still skinny with twinjet black hair, but he’d grown a few inches and his balls had dropped, adding a brooding allure to his character. He also still had an ‘L’-shaped scab etched eternally into his forehead; it liked to move about his face according to what day it was.

Hodwog had swollen to quite a size, as his bowels were being restricted due to liberal doses of Anti-Lax.

Useless fact #1: Turkey consumes more cereal each year than any other country in the world.

Uncle Vermin threw the telephone down and scrubbed his hands as if it was contagious. (Actually, it was… he turned into a telephone himself moments later.)

Hairy was knocked back with excessive force as three parrots collided with his figure, gravity causing his trajectory to arc perfectly into Hodwog’s stomach. A tsunami of guano gushed across the room with the force of a fire hose hooked up to a tankful of toothpaste.

Hairy took a deep breath, wiped his brow, skulled a bottle of vinegar, recited the entire works of Charles Dickens and, having ruined all remaining elements of suspense, finally opened the card.

Antelope Hairy,
How are you? Sorry about the phone call the other day, it was my first encounter with grappa and sherbet.
It’s brilliant here in Iraq! There’s sand, stinking camels, sand, oil and lots and lots of sand! Fascinating! Yesterday Frig found the mutilated corpse of Lara Croft in a Mesopotamian tomb.

Rum’s present was a Sneakerscope. It clipped onto your sneakers and sent a 4,000-volt current through you if somebody shifty was nearby. Hairy placed it carefully in a wet puddle.

After shaking out several false eyelashes and a cervical cap out of Hormoany’s envelope, Hairy opened up her letter and read it aloud using a whimsical German accent.

Wazzup, Hairy?
Rum told me about the incident on the telephone, so I thought it would be best if I didn’t call you either. You can reach me, though, on 1900-COITUS-4U.
I’ve started subscribing to the Daily Prophylactic, you can see my ad in the personals section. I’m sooo jealous of Rum; while I’m stuck here with the finest of food, wine, fashion and culture in the world, he gets to be out camping in fifty-degree heat with missile attacks! Lucky stiff! I’ll be visiting the French house of parliament before I come back, that should be fun.
PS. I was shocked when Rum informed me that Pussy got head from Dumbodork. That cheating bastard...

Hormoany’s birthday present was wrapped in black lingerie. Hairy wrestled open the shoulder strap.
She had given him equipment for servicing his Spinach mop. The instructions for polishing the handle looked highly suspicious to Hairy, as did the free ‘rainproof coat’ to unroll over the tip when it rained.

Deer ‘airy,
‘appy birthday! I gots yeh this ‘ere fer Dogfarts. Won’ tell yeh no more, now. I’ll see yeh a’...  yeh know, tha’ place where we is always goin’ this time o’ year…
Hairy had long gotten used to the fact that Haggis wrote with a Scottish accent.

Hairy pried off the nymphomaniac laptop and tied it up using a double adapter.

Hairy looked at the permission form, no longer grinning. Wait a minute, ‘no longer grinning’? Why the hell would the goofy dweeb be grinning in the first place?

Hairy glanced at the clock; the digits shone 2:02. This was odd as it was an analogue clock, and only twelve minutes had passed since he had checked the time previously.

The helicopter had six chemical-warfare agents inside, donning suits and gas masks. They loaded a missile to be fired, it reeked heavily of moist, decaying matter. The pilot gave his signal, and soon a malodorous missile hissed its way towards its target. Back in his room, Hairy was still rambling on abou the inconsitencies of the plot.
“I mean, can you really expect... what’s that sound?” He looked out of his window and curled his mouth  into a silent scream. An explosion of foetid compost sounded in Hairy Potted’s bedroom, causing Mrs Parsley to snort loudly, roll over in her bed and go back to sleep.

Useless fact #2: The capital cities of Djibouti, Monaco, Sân Tomé, Luxembourg, San Marino, Singapore and the Vatican City share names with their country.


--CHAPTER TWO--

Dullard was avidly watching a bug-zapper claiming another buzzing victim.

Hairy’s hair was still standing on end from the Sneakerscope’s barrage of voltage. Occasionally, a strand or two would sprinkle off like soot. Hairy made sure he carried an ashtray around with him so as to not dirty Ant Prunia’s carpet.

Dullard had been blissfully unaware of the whole situation as he was busy observing two mating dragonflies as they headed toward the blue hum of death. Ant Prunia walked into the room and shrieked.
“Oh, the nerve of those bug-zapper executives! Showing this sort of thing during prime time!” She covered Dullard’s eyes until a more suitable program of ladybugs or butterflies came on.

“Now, since Barge doesn’t know about your... condition… we have told her you go to St Breakfast’s Centre for Unbearably Imbeciled Boys.”

Dullard was now so morbidly obese that light bent around him .

Mr Parsley weighed up the pros and cons in his head. The scales toppled over, knocking his left eye out. He pushed it back in.
“Fine! Keep quiet about my collection of raunchy National Geographics and I’ll sign your stupid form!”

Hairy then waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. And wai-DING DONG!

Hairy deliberately left himself scruffy and smelly, so that Caunt Barge could spend her time mocking how pitiful and inferior he was, thus distracting her from her usual activity of mocking him on how pitiful and inferior... hey, wait a minute...

Caunt Barge lifted Mrs Parsley into a crushing bear hug, fracturing the scrawny woman’s spinal chord.

“Are you still here, then, Potted?” sneered Barge. Hairy blinked.
“No, actually, I’m in Bolivia.” he retorted, before catching sight of her bright blue suitcase.
“Whoopitydoop!” he cried out. Caunt Barge’seyes bulged in shock. Mr Parsley hastily stepped in.
“That was Bolivian for ‘I’ll take your suitcase upstairs’.” he assured his sister nervously, shooting Hairy a look that could have killed someone who was easily killed by people looking at them.

Hairy went to bed after the second night fuming, as Barge had made numerous snide comments about Hairy’s father having been exposed to radiation without metallic underwear on. On the third day, he rose again, in accordance with the scriptures.

She cuffed the back of Hairy’s head, sending it into a fold of Dullard’s flab. Hairy had to spend the rest of the day attempting to unwedge his head from the hideously odorous flap of blubber.

Caunt Barge swigged a bottle of methylated spirits and dragged on a doobie filled with camomile leaves. “Now, I’m not accusing you of course, Prunia.” slurred Barge, pointing an accusing finger at Mrs Parsley.

Hairy was finding it very difficult to control his anger; is control panel was labelled incorrectly.

“What did this Potted fellow do again?” asked Barge. Unco Vermin coughed.
“He was a… erm... a log.” he replied.
“A log?” said Barge. Unco Vermin glanced at Hairy and then back to Caunt Barge.
“Yes. A... log…”

“HOW ABOUT DESSERT?!” yelled Uncle Vermin loudly, as if the higher case letters didn’t give it away.

Hairy angrily threw his mashed potatoes into the bug zapper, interrupting Dullard’s comedy hour.

Caunt Barge’s incessant pet chihuahua clamped his jaws over the salami protuding from her behind, right at the moment when her gaseous accumulations reached their pinnacle. With a deafening pop, the poor chihuahua was propelled out of the window with his jaws still clamped onto the stick of salami.

Back at the house, Dullard looked up. Barge had just spiralled down onto the kitchen floor as a deflated sack of skin, Unco Vermin was battered and bruised from being spun into the walls and Ant Prunia had long been flung onto the chandelier. Vases, picture frames, items of fine china and ceramic valuables had all been shattered and strewn about the floor. Dullard shrugged and continued watching hid bug zapper.

Useless fact #3: The human skin weighs between 2 and 4 kg. When stretched out, it would reach approximately 3 feet by 7 feet. It is the body’s largest organ. The human skin has over 3,000,000, sweat glands. Human bodies are about 2/3 water.


--CHAPTER THREE--

Hairy continued walking with his trunk and suitcase for several hours before realising he’d just completed a full circle.

He suddenly felt a pang of panic. The pang sued him for sexual assault.

Hairy performed a triple-backflip to inverted splits landing, then shot out his arm to break his fall. Fragments of his broken fall sprinkled across the pavement.

The large Kombi van was royal...blue.
“Whoopitydoop!”

The pimply teen realised that Hairy was sprawled out on the ground with a bruised elbow and torn pants, so voiced his opinion of this.
“Yoo iz spralled owt onn thu grownd wiff ar broozed elboa andd tawn pance.”he said.
“No sheesh, Sherlock.” snapped Hairy.
“Mye naym izn’t Shirlok. Itt iz Stern Pancake.”

Hairy looked back to where the large shadowy figure had been, but it was gone. Well, it actually wasn’t, but it’s much more mysterious sayign that it had disappeared.

“Soe, wot iz yor naym?” asked Stern.
“Erm… a log.” answered Hairy quickly.

“How did you know I wanted to go to London?” Hairy queried.
“Eye diddnt, yoo jusst tawld mee!”

‘FRENCH PRESIDENT FOUND IN BED WITH BRITISH STUDENT.’

‘SIMIAN BLEAK STILL AT LARGE, SMALLER CRIMINALS ENVIOUS’

“Wot’d yoo seigh hiz naym four?” gasped Stern Pancake. “Mye hart’s beeting sow farst...” And so it was: Hairy could see Stern’s chest being dented from the internal blows.

“Doo yoo no wot hee didd arfter seting thu farrt alite?” Stun whispered dramatically. “No.” said Hairy.
“Larfed. Cract uhp larfing. Aparentli hee reely lykes farrt joaks. Thay hawled im ough two prizen wif eez arfter thatt.”

The bus dropped off a weepy witch in Wales, a smelly sorcerer in Sweden and a xenophobic xenosaurus in... Austria...

Stern clumsily unloaded Hairy’s luggage with the grace of a constipated gosling.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/19/05 at 10:14 pm

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/FleurDanes.jpg

--CHAPTER FOUR--

“Have a crumpet. You look famished.” Fridge waved his baton and a trumpet appeared on a plate infront of Hairy.

Fridge conjured a cup of java and took a long sip, before realising it was lava. He attempted to unmelt his face.

There was a dead silence. It was brought back to life by Evan yelling “I like cheese!”

“Great news, Hairy! Our resident priest made another clerical error, so you don’t need to go to Afghaniztan!” said Fridge as he finished nibbling on a buttered trumpet.

The Minionster o’ Magic slapped his forehead with the force to knock out a macrophage.

“Would you be able to sign my Dogsmeat form?” asked Hairy.
“Why, yes, Hairy. Yes I would.” said Fridge, before vanishing in a puff of smoke.
“But you didn’t sign...” Hairy trailed off miserably.

“The aforementioned events comprise an unorthodox encounter.”

As Hairy’s eyelids closed over his retinas to enjoy a peaceful slumber, a salami (still toting a chihuahua on it) soared past his window, ruffling the curtain. But Hairy Potted was sound asleep. Awww! Cuuute!

Useless fact #4: Light from the sun takes 8.3 minutes to reach Earth.

Hairy awoke to several hundred volts of electricity surging through him.
“Hodwog, use you beak to tweak this freaking Sneakerscope!”

“I like cheese! I like cheese!” carolled Evan.
“Who the hell are you people?” scowled Hairy as he dragged Evan outside by the nipples, then kicking him violently over towards Kevin and Gavin, who were prodding loaves of dog doo with snooker sticks.

Hairy had a hearty breakfast of numbat hearts.

As in all cases where there is a crowd, the protagonist squeezed his way to the front.

The Fiatblot is a state and territory of the art vacuum cleaner designed to do what every other Spinach mop does, but better. The colour is the same as every other model, but betterer. It reaches the same speed, with similar acceleration, but sounds cooler so it’s much more betterer. Price on requesterer.

Hairy would’ve told Mr Perish that he’d already received an organiser for Dogfarts, but was highly amused to see the man walk into a cage of the sexually ravenous contraptions, which immediately secured themselves to the man’s legs and began thrusting.

Hairy gasped at the book-on-tape he had knocked off the shelf. It was called ‘If You See This Guy, You A Dead Man, Man.’ On the front cover was a tall dark figure, the same figure that Hairy had seen in Malvolio Crescent.

“What’s in your bag?” Hairy asked Hormoany, ogling her bulging knapsack. At this, dark clouds rolled overhead. Hormoany’s voice became deep and dark.
“The remains of several children that I just skinned and boiled.” she rasped in reply. Hairy’s eyes bulged out.
“…huh?” he whimpered. Hormoany coughed, back to her normal self.
“I said I’m taking more subjects than you guys this year.”

“What could have possibly been weird about this week?” asked Rum as a chihuahua clamping onto a salami whizzed past his head and ricocheted off Evan’s head as he wrestled an alligator. Hairy sighed lethargically.
“You know, the usual.”

“Guess what?” said Rum.
“What.” said Hairy.
“Damn, you got it.” said Rum.

“I still have eight Gallows, twelve Sickies and half a Nut from my birthday money. I might buy a pet.” said Hormoany.
“How about a parrot?” grinned Hairy, as Hodwog screeched shrilly and defecated several litres of white slop across the table.
“Or a weasel?” beamed Rum, as Scabies retched up a half-digested cockroach, causing his infected sores to ooze pus out onto Rum’s pie.
“Erm, I’ll think about it.” grimaced Hormoany, as Rum innocently finished off his pie.

The trio entered Insert-Latin-Name-Here Pet Shop.

Scabies was old and wrinkly, smelling of strange peaches.
“How old is this weasel? They usually reach about eighteen years old.” said the lady behind the desk. Rum pondered for a moment.
“Well, his tail has been personally signed by Queen Victoria…”

Hairy twitched erratically on the floor as the Sneakerscope cooked him medium-rare.
Hormoany had been entertained the whole time by a magic bug-zapper that pursued its targets before nuking them in a similar fashion to Hairy’s Sneakerscope.

The massive orange creature waddled back into the store. Hormoany squealed in a masculine manner.
“Oh! He’s adorable! I’ll take him!”

Evan called out “I like cheese!” and urinated on the cash register.

Hairy’s scalp-follicles looked similar to a DragonBall-Z character reaching orgasm.

Rum opened up the organiser Haggis had sent them and aimed it at Crackskanks. A familiar paper clip appeared.
“You look like you want to identify a creature, would you like some help?” it said. Rum, Hormoany and Hairy ogled the contraption.
“Err… yes.” said Hairy. The paper clip bounced up energetically on the screen.
“Hint: use me to identify creatures!” it chirped unhelpfully. Rum was starting to get irritated.
“Yes, I know! We just told you to identify Crackskanks, you piece of shi-”
“Do you want me to identify Crackskanks?” said the organiser. Ron gave an exasparated sigh.
“YES!” he snarled through gritted teeth. There was a pause.
“You look like you want to identify a creature, would you like some help?”

Fried and Gorge were charming the potatoes to wrestle in the creamed spinach.

Mrs Weakly served dessert and the hungry Graafiandors all tucked in... their shirts...


“Why is the Minionstry providing us with transport?” asked Pussy.
“It’s all because of you, Pussy,” joked Gorge. “Head Boys always get special transport,  the same as frail geriatrics and the disabled.” Everybody s******ed into their politically incorrect asparagus.

Hairy couldn’t help but notice the series of ellipses in Mr Weakly’s speech.

Germy Weakly was listening to Britney Spears songs backwards to pick up the hidden Satanic messages.

It seemed that visiting Iraq, combined with his old age, was taking the better of Scabies. Where they were taking the better is still unknown.

Mr and Mrs Weakly were arguing loudly in their room. 
“I don’t think we should!”
“I think we should.”
“I don’t think we should!”
“I think we should.”

There was a heavy thud on wood, possibly a distraught triangle.

A muffled quack sounded from behidn the door, possibly El Nino.

An embellished flap broke the silence, followed by an embellisheder truck horn.

Hairy hurried away as a squeal of an apprehensive herbivore told him the Weaklys were coming out of the parlour.


--CHAPTER FIVE--

Ton woke up Hairy the next morning by tying his nipples to a piano and rolling it down the stairs.

<We apologise for the inconvenience as our narrator hurls his guts up. Perhaps you could grab a drink, watch TV or read something of actual substance for a while.>

Useless fact #5: Heat and dryness are what pop bubbles.

Hormoany and Germy were chatting with Mrs Weakly about a love potion she had concocted in the armed forces. They were all very giggly, as giggle-gas was being pumped into their corner of the room.

Hairy’s Sneakerscope went wild again, setting fire to his aural and nasal hair as it electrocuted him half to death.

Rum scooped up the quivering weasel and tucked Scabies into his pocket, scowling at Hormoany and making a very rude Swahili gesture at her behemothian creature.

“Aha! That’s who Evan is!” cried Hairy triumphantly. “He’s a fired Oompa-Loompa!” He felt quite relieved to have finally cracked the mystery. Rum blinked.
“How does that explain why he always pops up exclaiming his fondness of curdled dairy products?” he asked.
“And what about the other two?” added Hormoany, motioning to Gavin and Kevin as they hid in bushes, throwing pieces of poo out at unsuspecting civilians.

Crackskanks nestled into the blue upholstery. Did I say blue? Oops, I meant- “Whoopitydoop!”

Nearby, a baby gurgled inside a pram. Hormoany slowly turned to Hairy. Her throat rattled hoarsely as her irises dilated.
“I’d just love to drag that baby out of its pram with my teeth and then kick it infront of an oncoming train.” she snarled. Hairy stared wide-eyed at her for a few moments.
“Wh-what did you just say?” he managed to utter. Hormoany rolled her eyes.
“I said hurry up! We’ll miss the Dogfarts Excess!”

Mrs Weakly kissed all of the kids farewell, except for Evan, who kept making obscene gestures with his tongue.

“Be careful, Hairy.” said Mr Weakly.
“I will.” promised Hairy, before turning around and falling down onto the railway tracks.

“It’s OK, I already know.” said Hairy. Mr Weakly seemed taken aback.
“Really? Well, in any case, always remember ‘Front to back to clean your crack, cuz back to front will smear your cu…’ wait a minute, you’re not Germy!”

“How do you know about Simian Bleak?” asked Mr Weakly. Hairy grinned guiltily.
“I sort of overheard you with Mrs Weakly.” he replied. Mr Weakly coughed.
“You must understand that my sailor outfit was purely for-”
“I was referring to Simian Bleak... again...” said Hairy. Mr Weakle faltered.
“…of course. Well, whatever you do, don’t go looking for Simian Bleak. And take special care when disposing of your sanitary towels.”

“We need to talk privately.” Hairy whispered. Rum turned to Germy.
“F*** off, b****!” he spat. Germy opened her mouth in protest.
“Why should I, you c***sucking p****?” she cried. Hormoany cleared her throat.
“Will you d***heads shut your f***ing mouths? There are teachers nearby!” she said.  “Oh, ram your s***-filled head up my c*** you b****!” snapped Germy. Hairy frowned.
“Shut your t**s, a**licker!” he interjected. “Or does a f***ing w**** like you need  a c*** to shut your noisy m*** up?” he said. Germy turned to Hairy.
“Lick my p**** you f***ing b******! I won’t let a p**** f***** like you kick me out, so you can munch on my f***ing m*** like the h****** you are!” she growled.
“Oh, as if, you s***! I’ll tear your c*** out and s*** it back onto your b**** a** if you do!” Hormoany called. Rum bit his lip as Profaner Stout bustled past their cabin.
“B***** f***ing h***, you c***s! Shut the f*** up unless you want your p**** n***** a***s  suspended! Germy, just p*** off, you f***ing s***!” said Rum. Germy left. Hairy turned to talk with Rum and Hormoany, but then realised that there were other people still in the carriage, namely a group of nuns who had been silent with shock.

All of the other cabins were full, except for one with a dozing wizard inside.
“Beats picking turnips during July.” said Rum. 

Hairy angrily wrenched off the Sneakerscope with a wrench, bolted it together with a bolt  and chucked it into his bag with... his hands.

Rum and Hormoany stuck out their tongues at each other, inadvertently locking into a passionate kiss.

“How cool will Dogsmeat be… they have the Runnypukes sweetshop full of  chocolaxatives, glucostriches and aphrodisi-acacia drops.” Hormoany nodded.
“And the Screaming Wreck has been haunted longer than Buckingham Palace.”

“I don’t think MuckGonadal will sign your form with Simian Bleak on the loose.” Said Hormoany. Hairy wished that Simian Bleak would get off the loose.

There was an emaciated warbling as the carriage door opened and a flash of lightning illuminated Drachma Malformed with his cronies, Crappe and Boil, balanced on his head.

Rum leapt up, hitting his head on the floor.
“Damn that Malformed! I swear, one more crack about our incompetence with maximum dividend yield, I’ll grab his nipples and...” Rum made a violent twisting motion.

Crackskanks grolwed menacingly.
“What the hell is that thing?” asked Rum. Hormoany froze and her head rotated around a half-revolution to face Rum. Droplets of blood trickled from her eyes and ears.  “Whenever I see a kitten, I get the urge to tear off its head and lick out the goo inside.” she said in a dark voice. Rum and Hairy stared in horrified awe.
“You...” began Rum, but Hormoany cut him short back to her vibrant self.
“I said I don’t care what Crackskanks is… we’ve stopped moving!”

Just then the lights went out and they were plunged into total darkness, like something being plunged into something else that’s totally dark.

Hairy heard Hormoany get up and walk to the door when it opened wide and Nibble Longbuttocks tumbled over her.
“Ow! Who’s that?” he whispered.
“Hormoany!” answered Hormoany. “Now could you kindly pull your hand out of there?” “Woah!” Another figure had tripped over Nibble and Hormoany in the doorway.
“Who’s that?” hissed Germy.
“Nibble.” replied Nibble.
“And Hormoany.” Added Hormoany. “Blooming heck… what are the chances of two people falling over me in the dark and both their hands ending up in the same place?”

A cloak concealed the figures face, but Hairy saw something that sent a shiver down his spine, an... appendage... hanging out from its robes, slimy and encrusted with eschars.

Hairy was brought-to by a bucket of cold vinegar being thrown over his face.
“Ezekiel? EZEKIEL?!” shouted Hormoany.
“Uh, my name’s Hairy.” prompted Hairy.
“Dammit, that’s the second time… Hairy? HAIRY?!”

The faces around him were blurred, as if pixelated by a post-production studio.

“It was horrid.” said Nibble in a voice higher than usual, meaning that all nearby dogs  started howling.

“Oh, so Loopy just happens to be carrying marshmallows around with him everywhere he goes, just incase a Demented shows up?” retorted Rum, blowing a marshmallow bubble out of his right nostril.

Rain was hammering the ground, missing all of the nails.

Useless fact #6: In North Dakota it is a criminal offence to fall asleep in shoes.

Profaner Loopy stepped out from his carriage. Malformed grimaced at the sight of the man’s ragged tutu, his attention diverted away from the steep cliff he was heading toward.

“I like cheese! I like cheese!” chirped Evan as he danced joyfully on a pillar.
“Why do you keep saying that?” roared Rum, towering over the midget. Evan stopped short and stared up at Rum with tears welling in his eyes before bursting into loud sobs.
“Now look what you’ve done!” hissed Hormoany, kneeling sympathetically down to nurse Evan.
“Don’t mind that stupid, mean bully.” she cooed sweetly. Evan looked up with an evil glint in his eye, grinning. He hurled a handful of dog doo into Hormoany’s face and ran off cackling. Hormoany remained knelt, breathing heavily.
“I’ll f***ing kill that f***ing little f***er...”

Profaner MuckGonadal planted herself on a pouffe, Hairy sat nervously on a lounge chair and Hormoany seated herself precariously on a garden rake.

The Dogfarts nurse, Madam Pomfret, bustled in, brandishing a rectal thermometer.
Hairy groaned, Malformed was bad enough without all of this fuss and bother. The ‘fuss and bother’ made its way up his ass like a rod of ice.
“Erk!” he called, springing into the air. “I’m fine, really!” he insisted. Pomfret frowned. “Oh, silly me, all you need is a marshmallow! Rectal thermometers are for ankle sprains!”

Hairy waited and a few minutes later Hormoany skipped out of the office merrily. She suddenly stopped and glared at Hairy with mouth foaming and limbs spasming.
“Whenever I’m alone, I slice open my wrists with razors, lick up the trail of blood and then regurgitate it to feed young vultures.” she growled. Hairy’s mouth worded silently. Hormoany snapped her fingers infront of his face.
“Hello? Were you listening? We need to hurry or we’ll miss dinner!”

Profaner Dumbodork stood up and hushed the crowd. One of the floating light bulbs levitated into his concave head and shattered, setting his long hair alight. He dashed about frantically to put out the flames with a mulberry bush.

“We have several Afghaniztan guards here posted around the school.” Dumbodork paused and Hairy remembered that Mr Weakly had said Dumbodork disliked Dementeds. Hairy also realised that Dumbodork was senile and had probably forgotten what he was going to say.

Pussy puffed out his scrawny chest proudly. A salami toting a chihuahua on it whizzed past the window.

Profaner Snoop was glaring at Profaner Loopy with a look of loathing, hate, spite, hostility, malice, belligerence, odium and enmity.
“Must be that time of month.” muttered Hormoany absent-mindedly.

“Dig in!” called Hormoany, scoffing down aardvark in flamingo-leg gravy.
“How can you eat after Haggis just stood up without pants on?” blanched Rum.
“Nothing I aint seen before!” 

After the banquet had ended, the houses dispersed into their groups to leave; Hecklepuck in their parrot yellow, Slivery in their puke green, Graafiandor in their menstrual red and Ravercork in their pregnancy blue.
“Whoopitydoop!” carolled Hairy. Rum turned to him, frowning.
“Why do you keep saying that every time you see the colour blue? Surely the vat of jelly crystals would have worn off by now!” he said.
“Whoopitydoop!” responded Hairy, catching sight of Rum’s blue eyes.

Haggis was getting teary eyed from emotion of being appointed a teacher. All of the students passing him were getting teary eyed from trauma of witnessing him without pants.

They all walked over the corpse of Yahoo Serious, which Carefaker Belch hadn’t bothered removing. He was quite ripe now, green decaying flesh clung to mouldy bones. The stench of decomposition stung the students’ nostrils almost as much as their hatred of his former ass-brained antics.

Hairy lay back in his space-pod-like habitat that night, listening to the sounds of the nights. The crickets were playing a concerto by Beethoven. Nibble Longbuttocks was snoring loudly, Shameless Finnicky was snoozing merrily, Dean Dumbass was dreaming about Asian wolverines and Rum wasn’t. A cool breeze blew open Hairy’s curtain to show the moon glistening upon the Dogfarts pool and the serene mountains. Hairy smiled and had a warm, relaxing feeling that he was finally home. At that precise moment,  another compost missile promptly whizzed through his window and showered hot, steamy waste all over him.

Useless fact #7: Palindromes read the same backwards as forwards. Examples include: ‘boob’, ‘tit’, ‘butt tub’, ‘lived as a devil’, ‘loo cool’, ‘pins rap parsnip’, ‘gnu dung’, ‘sexes’, ‘navel Evan’, ‘Potted: a cadet top’ and ‘bin nib’.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/19/05 at 10:22 pm

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/ViktorRooney.jpg

--CHAPTER SIX--

Malformed was still s******ing at Hairy’s incident with the Demented, or it may have been the fact that he had a bra on.

“Hormoany,” said Rum. “There appears to be a bit of a screw up with your timetable...” Hormoany looked at him irritably.
“So what if I have a few subjects on at the same time? Profaner MuckGonadal fixed it all  with me earlier.” She went back to chewing on her toasted llama breast. Rum grinned.
“Actually, I was referring to the fact that none of your lessons have been circled with  love hearts like usual.” he joked, punching her lightly on the arm. Hormoany went rigid, then looked up with an icy aura radiating from her.
“Touch me again and I’ll chainsaw your gangly butt in half, skewer it on a mop and twist off your f***ing carrot-top head like a corkscrew.” she boomed. Rum gurgled a falsetto testicle-pop for twelve seconds, edging away from her slowly.
“And so naturally,” she went on as if nothing had happened. “My love life has just matured to a more selective stage!”

Haggis trundled in, trailing a roll of XXL toilet paper from his flabby buttocks. Hairy tried containing the vomit forcing its way between his lips. He swallowed it with a gulp and got rid of the taste by licking the table.

“Hey Potted! Look at me, I’m a Demented!” sneered Malformed, wiggling his pinkie through his zipper. The surrounding Slivery students hooted with laughter.
“Don’t flatter yourself, Drachma.” retorted Hormoany.

The Imagination classroom was all the way up the top of the East Tower, located at the West side of Dogfarts.

“Here ye shall end your noble quest, fine sirs and fair dame!” said  Sir Cumcision. Hormoany looked like anyone who repeated such a term would have a ‘fair dame’  pitchfork jousted up their butt.

“How do we get up there?” asked Rum. A rope ladder unravelled with a satisfying ‘thunk’ onto his head. Hairy couldn’t wait to climb up, but he had to, so he did. Wait. Yep. Yep yep. Yep yep yep.

After looking up Hormoany’s skirt as she climbed the ladder, Hairy reached the Imagination classroom. It had the appearance of the Weakly’s van, containing numerous lava lamps and disco balls. Psychedelic beanbags were set in a semi circle around a floating orb in the centre of the room, which Hairy had a sneaking suspicion wasn’t an overgrown pig ovary.

There were three beanbags free. Rum took a seat in the first one, which engulfed him. “Too soft.” he said. He tried the next one along, which was so taut it sprung him across the other side of the room.
“Too tight.” he said. A final beanbag remained.
“Gee, I wonder what I do now.” he snorted sarcastically, before standing next to Hairy for the remainder of the lesson.

Hairy’s first impression of the teacher was a retarded dragonfly which had had an anvil dropped on its left foot after a skiing accident.

“I have been eagerly anticipating the day when we make physical contact.” said Profaner Tralala. She faltered. “N-not that sort of physical c-contact.” she stuttered nervously

Profaner Tralala’s overtly malformed talipes caused the class to shift back away even more from her.

“Imagination is a most difficult subject, many of you will not possess the Inert Eye. Intelligence will not help you at all.” said Tralala. Hormoany died. Flat out, just carked it right then and there. Really! She’s dead! DEAD!!! Oh, like you’ll believe anything after the end of the last book…

Profaner Tralala suddenly swung her disfigured left foot in the direction of Nibble Longbuttocks and crouched down, her enlarged lazy eye level to his normal two.
“YOU! Is your grandmother feeling well?” Nibble screamed and scrambled under his desk.
“Get the f*** away from me, you psycho hag!” he screeched.

“Beware a moronic male!” called out Tralala suddenly.
“Erm, who were you talking to?” asked Rum. Profaner Tralala blinked,
“Um… YOU!” she blurted melodramatically. Rum trembled in fear, watching his every move suspiciously.

No sooner had Nibble reached the stand, a red clyster bag splattered on the ground.
“Wow! She really does have the Inert Eye!” gasped Perverted Petal in awe.
“She also had a string tied from the red bag to her finger.” muttered Nibble.

“Let’s see...” said Rum, looking at his turd loaves. “There’s a sort of head with a beard... Santa Claus! So that means... you will be sexually harassed.” Profaner Tralala glided over to Hairy and looked into his colostomy bag. She gasped.
“My dear, that is no Santa Claus! The distinctive nose, the elongated beard, the crap-coloured complexion... my boy, you have the OSAMA!” Half the class gasped, the other half groaned, the other half checked their calculations.

Hormoany rolled her eyes and gave a derisive snort.
“Come on, everyone knows Hairy has an arch nemesis.” she said. Profaner Tralala’s lazy nostril drifted down to her elbow.
“Is that so? Well, please enlighten us all on who that is.” sniffed Tralala.
“Um, Vulvamork...” said Hormoany slowly.
“Oh yeah…” hummed Profaner Tralala thoughtfully.

Profaner MuckGonadal spent the Transmogrification lesson explaining Anifungi, sorcerers who could transform at will into animals or mouldy growths. All of the students were too focused on Hairy to notice her turn into a ferret.
“What is with you all today?” said MuckGonadal, back to her normal form. “That’s the first time a class hasn’t set a Rottweiler loose on me!” Everyone looked back toward Hairy but were silent… as lambs...

“True soothsayers are very rare, and Profaner Tralala is more of a… truthstrayer.”
Everybody laughed appreciatively at the ingenious rhyme, which, if written in a story, would have the smartest comedian alive as author.

Useless fact #8: Mice have larger sperm than elephants.

“What about what Tralala said?” Hairy murmured. Hormoany scoffed.
“If you ask me, Imagination is a total crock!” she replied. Nobody had asked her anything.
(Well okay, Hairy had, but whenever someone begins a sentence with ‘If you ask me’ I usually... with an inferred… and the humorous undertone... with the... oh, screw it.)

“You’re just upset that there’s finally a subject you’re crap at!” said Rum. He had hit a nerve with Hormoany. He quietly slipped his Nerve-Hitter 5000 back under the table.

Hormoany still wasn’t talking to Rum, and Rum still wasn’t replying.

“Righ’ now, get ou’ yer organisers!” called Haggis.
“And how exactly do we do that?” scorned Malformed. “It brutally mauled my leg, then ran away yapping with a wild pack that were roaming the street.” All of the other students nodded in agreement. Haggis looked crestfallen.
“Yeh mean yeh didn’ chant the Swedish national anthem backwards the calm ‘em?”

“Hippygruffs!” yelled the organisers in unison, casting a wary eye at several passing lawyers involved searching for any plagiarisms on Pokemon concepts.

The initial sensation of witnessing the torso and head of a parrot on the butt of an butt made you truly appreciate the gleaming feathers, shiny coat and FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, HAGGIS! PUT SOME F***ING PANTS ON!

Malformed had just completed a left arm stall and hopped up to see Backbeat dance back. “Oh, come one, what was that? You never torso spin directly after an aerial cartwheel, you N*Sync backup dancer!” he drawled.

By the time Haggis got to Malformed, a small river of blood had saturated the field. Haggis canoed him off to the hospital wing.

"It was all Malformed's fault, calling Backbeat an 'N*sync backup dancer. I mean, you couldn't get a worse insult than that!" said Hairy. In reply, Rum started dancing the choreography of The Ketchup Song.
"I stand corrected!"

“It’s not like Bleak is waiting outside the door.” said Rum. A shuffling could be heard from behind the door, as if somebody was running away.

Useless fact #9: The oldest man ever died at 120.65 years of age. The oldest woman ever died when she was 122.45.

“Madam Pomfret was jus’ tellin’ me that Malformed lost two-thirds of ‘is blood.” sobbed Haggis. Hormoany gasped.
“Oh no! Were you sacked?” she said. Haggis took a swig of turpentine and sniffed.
“Nah, but it’s on’y a matter o’ time ‘fore someone loses three or four-thirds, innit?”

Haggis wiped his eyes with a tennis racquet.
“Thanks, all o’ yez.” he croaked, swilling a tankard of distilled badger’s milk.
“That’s enough drink.” said Hormoany, taking his bottles outside to empty them. Orally.


--CHAPTER SEVEN--

Nibble Longbuttocks found Poachings unbearable, his secret crush on Profaner Snoop only magnifying the problem.

“How are your nipples, Drachma?” cooed Panty Parkinsons. “Are you ravished with unbearable agony?” Malformed nodded with a pained expression.
“Yes, actually… would you mind retracting that pitchfork from my arse?”

“Sir, I need someone to circumcise my chinchilla.” whined Drachma. Profaner Snoop looked up from his desk and sneered at Hairy.
“Kindly abscise the prepuce of that rodent for Master Malformed.” he said. Hairy  growled and roughly performed the act with a butter knife. Malformed scowled.
“Sir! Potted just imitated Lorena Bobbitt!”

Profaner Snoop prowled around the rest of the tables, commending the efforts of the Slivery students whilst rapping the Graafiandors over the head with bones from the dungeon floor.

“So, Potted, going to try and catch Simian Bleak single-handed are you?” leered Malformed. Hairy snorted derisively.
“I have two hands, you idiot!”

At this, Snoop stalked over to Nibble’s table and held up his cauldron. The poaching, which should have been a grotty mucus green, was...
“Slightly off grotty mucus green!” drawled Snoop disparagingly. “Doesn’t anything get through that bulbous head of yours, Lungbuttock? I do recall specifically asking for pi dodo feathers, not a rounded up 3.14159265358979323846! And you add the toenails precisely five-sixths of a seconds later! Useless boy!”

After class, Hairy turned to Rum as they walked to Defence Against the Bleak Arts. “Does my butt look big in this tutu?”

Hormoany ran around a corner ahead of the two, then suddenly came up panting heavily from behind them.
“How did you do that?” asked the thunderstruck Rum. An icy wind swept over Hormoany, draining her of all colour.
“I use barbed wire to rip open the stomachs of puppies and suck their organs out one by one through a straw.” Rum and Hairy were lost for words.
“Well, are you coming or not, we’re late for class!” Hormoany dashed around the corner again. Rum turned to Hairy, his eyes wide and fearful.
“Hairy… do you think MY bum looks big in this tutu?”

Perves the poultergeist floated into the room and started making obscene balloon puppets out of his genitalia.

“We will be dealing with a Buggerit today, Mr Belch has kindly left it for our class.” Hairy expected that the day Mr Belch did something kind, the universe would implode.

Hormoany’s hand shot into the air at the speed of light.
“A Buggerit changes its form to mimic our most secret fetish. The only way to repel it is with large amounts of vomit.” she said. Profaner Loopy smiled.
“I could have said it better myself.”

“OK, baton at the ready, Lungbuttock. Hairy, you may open the microwave.” said Loopy. Hairy pushed a button causing the microwave to door to spring open and Profaner Snoop emerged. He turned to Profaner Loopy with a menacing glare.
“I warn you that Nibble Longbuttock seems to think that a mere 99.985% accuracy is a good enough standard for his work, unless Miss Ginger is in no way helping him out from the other side of the room.”he snapped. Profaner Loopy turned to Nibble. 
“Sorry, it actually was Profaner Snoop.”

Useless fact #10: Cleopatra the queen of Egypt was born 69 BC in Macedonia.

“Realsickostuff!” chanted Rum. There was a loud pop and the enormous pubic louse was being humped by Haggis, who in turn was has the Humping Sallow atop him. Every Adelgid/Haggis/Humping Sallow shipper cheered.

The weight of the entire class showering vomit onto the back wall caused it to topple down, a river of semi-digested chunks flowing out along the corridor and down the stairs, washing away several junior students.

“I didn’t get to see what my secret fetish is either.” said Hormoany. Rum snorted. “Probably a typical girl thing like a cyborg robot with giant vibrating arm attachments.”

A salami, with a chihuahua champing onto the end, soared past them and out a window.


--CHAPTER EIGHT--

Half of the class was in awe with Profaner Tralala’s Inert Eye, the other half found her unbearable amd the third half checked their calculations.

Oldliver Would was aiming to win the Spinach Cup before the end of his final year of Dogfarts, and was very focused on keeping his goal. (Well, he was the goal keeper!  Hahahaha... I have nothing.)

Oldliver looked to the sky, scowling at the mishaps fate had ticked in his direction.

Hairy was hit on the head with an old ham.

The Graafiandors ran out onto the pitch hooting war cries and torching effigies of their opponents.

Useless fact #11: An apple a day does not provide the dietary requirements of vitamins, carbohydrates, calcium or antioxidants to actually keep a doctor away.

“Don’t worry about the Dogsmeat visit, Hairy.” said Hormoany, reading his thoughts like some cheap novel in a discount bin.

Hairy sat back, beaming. He switched to low beam.

The monstrous Crackskanks leapt into Hormoany’s lap with a dead Rottweiler in its mouth.
“Aww, did you maul that all by yourself?” she cooed.

Scabies scrambled under an overturned cement truck that was somehow in the cummin room. Crackskanks got down on his fat belly and tried to reach Scabies with a broom.

In Herbology, the three worked on a Puffinpod, which kept rolling up its leaves and smoking itself.

Rum accidentally poured a forty-gallon drum of flammable oil over one of the plants. Within seconds it was a  writhing ball of flame.
“What have you done to Juliet?” shrieked Profaner Stout. Flames roared around her precious plant. Soon, all that was left was an ashy silhouette. Profaner Stout gyrated to the sky and shook her head manicly back and forth as she screamed:
“Juliet! JUUULIEEET!”

Calendar Brow threw down the note and gyrated towards the sky, crying
“Stinky! STIIINKYYYY!”

“Profaner Tralala predicted that the thing I dread will happen today.” said Calendar. Several students murmured amongst themselves. Hormoany, however, frowned.
“You were dreading that a flying salami with a chihuahua clinging onto the end of it would decapitate your pet ocelot?” she asked. Calendar Brow rolled her eyes.
“Well, duh. Ob-viously!”

Evan chirped “I like cheese!” before singing “Oompa-Loompa, oompity-day!”

Profaner MuckGonadal gave him an odd look… procrastinating an eked emotional response, perhaps? She turned and left. Hairy turned and right.

“There’s a lot of hype about Dogsmeat. I guess it’s worth visiting the confectioner, the joke shop, the Screaming Wreck, the bakery, the pub, the free amusement park, the shooting range, the duelling centre, the transparent whorehouse, the Bleak Arts museum and the never-ending ice cream fort. But if you’re not wearing any shoes and it’s fifty degrees, then the pebbled road would probably hurt your feet.” Hairy killed Pussy. Right there and then, whipped out a rifle and blew his head off. Blood and guts spattered the entire wall. Really. REEEALLY!

Colon Creamey was a camcorder-toting second-year with excessive salivary excretion. “Hi, Hairy! I’m reading up on pocket watches!” he shouted excitedly. A thin string of drool slowly trickled oozed from his lip to the carpet with a loud plop.

“Waaaiiit a minute…” began Colon. The cogs in his head began to turn in a painstakingly slow fashion as he questioned Hairy’s behaviour.
“Hairy’s parents are dead… but he just told me he heard them calling him to lunch…”
After several minutes, the cogs finally clicked into place and a cuckoo sounded.
“Oh my god!” yelled Colon in a horrified voice. “I feel like a sandwich!”

Hairy dashed upstairs and ran straight into Caretaker Belch, who wasn’t Takingcare of where he was going.

“Get off to wherever you want to go, at whatever speed you prefer, in a manner completely up to you!” hissed Mr Belch bossily.

Hairy went left down a corridor thinking dreamily about wheelbarrows.

“Hairy?” came the voice of Profaner Loopy. “What are you doing here? Where are Rum and Hormoany?” Hairy turned and sighed.
“Either sneaking off for a screw in the Foreboding Forest or at Dogsmeat.”

“What do you want to talk about?” asked Loopy, conjuring up a cup of lava and some buttered trumpets.

“Oxymoron alert!” shouted Hairy. At this, Oxygen Man walked in and exclaimed in a bold voice:
“Antipodean cheeses!”

“I am surprised, Hairy. It seems that you fear not evil, but rotten penises which trigger within you a narcoleptic episode. Very wise indeed.”

Useless fact #12: The term for fear of fear is Phobophobia.
“Holy crap! Who said that?” shouted Hairy.
I did, Hairy. The narrator.
“Oh, okay then, just checking. You’re not a Batholith are you?” Hairy asked.
I think we’d better get on with the story, Hairy.
“Oh yeah, sorry about that.”

“Profaner Snoop has kindly been cultivating some medical marijuana for my illness, Hairy.” explained Profaner Loopy. Hairy ogled the smoking bong.
“Snoop has an interest in the Bleak Arts,” began Hairy, hesitating, then continuing on. “Some people say he would do anything to get the Defence Against the Bleak Arts job.” These words took a while to set in. Profaner Loopy looked from the bong to Hairy.
“Are you suggesting that Profaner Snoop will perform sexual favours for my job?”

Hairy slapped his forehead with the force to patronise a chameleon.

“So, how was Dogsmeat?” asked Hairy.
“sheesh.” said Rum. Hairy frowned.
“You don’t have to lie just to make me feel better. Come one, how was it really?”
“sheesh.” said Rum.
“Oh.”

“So what did you do while we were away?” asked Hormoany.
“Well, I had lunch with Profaner Loopy, when Snoop came in a bong...” The three walked to the end of the corridor. Rum turned to Hairy.
“Yeah, okay, Snoop came in with a bong. Then what?” he asked. Hairy shrugged.
“Well, usually when I recall something, I only have to mention the first few words and you’re expected to automatically cotton on to what happened.” he said. Rum gasped.
“You mean Snoop was trying to poison Loopy in order to get his job?”

The three hopped over Yahoo Serious’ carcass, which lay accumulating fungus and alfalfa sprouts in the main corridor.

The Grate Hall was decorated with floating jac*a** lanterns, with large posters on the walls advertising clever ways to rig candy with razor blades.

Hairy licked his lips as the tables filled with roast pumpkin, pumpkin juice, pumpkin pie, pumpkin rolls and pumpkin ice-cream.

There was a large crowd gathered around the Graafiandor entrance. As in all cases where there is a crowd, the three protagonists squeezed their way to the front. A P.O.V. shot became a rotating pan shot which then zoomed in to a close-up of their expressions.

“Jeepers!” shouted Rum.
“Crikey!” called Hairy.
“Holy guacamole!” cried Hormoany.
“I like cheese!” yelled Evan.

Pussy Weakly turned to his Siamese-twin brothers.
“Frig, Gorge, go fetch Profaner Dumbodork!” he ordered. The twins turned to Rum.
“Rum, go fetch Profaner Dumbodork!” they ordered. Rum turned to Germy.
“Germy, go fetch Profaner Dumbodork! Purple monkey dishwasher!”

Hormoany’s fingernails suddenly shot out to over a metre in length and her hair flickered violently about her like flames. When she opened her mouth a booming voice came out.
“Have you ever felt the rush of adrenalin from slicing through the muscle, sinew and bone of a goat with a chainsaw, before finally heaving it all the way through its torso and spine as hot guts spill out over your arms and blood spatters wildly all over your face?”

Dumbodork took off his glasses, wiped his sweat, adjusted his hat, puffed on a pipe, calculated the square root of two and finally outwore what pitiful suspense remained.

“Pussy, kindly alert Mr Belch that the Fat-Assed Lady is missing.” said Dumbodork. Pussy Weakly turned to his Siamese-twin brothers.
“Frig, Gorge, go and alert Mr Bel-”
“NOW!” shouted Dumbodork.

Perves the poultergeist floated down from the roof where he had been surveying te scene of confusion and looking down girls’ blouses. He did a pirouette off Perverted Petal’s back and then poked his head out through his buttocks.
“Quite a temper he’s got, that Yahoo Serious!” The crowd remained silent. Perves blinked, then recovered himself.
“Erm, I mean… SIMIAN BLEAK!”

Useless fact #13: Egyptian prostitutes invented lipstick to enhance the appeal of fellatio.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/19/05 at 10:25 pm

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/CedricTarantino.jpg

--CHAPTER NINE--

Dumbodork clicked his fingers and the floor was suddenly lined with blue sleeping bags. “Whoopitydoop!”

For the following week, the question on everybody’s lips was ‘What the hell’s this question doing on my lips?’

Evan bobbed into the conversation.
“My calculated estimation, based on simple logical deduction, concludes that Bleak is an unregistered Anifungi and used the same animal morph to enter Dogfarts as he did to sneak past the Dementeds at Afghaniztan. It is possible he came into the school via a secret passage that Caretaker Belch is currently unaware of. As the Foreboding Forest only has Haggis to guard that entrance and he’s always pissed off his face, I deduce that the Eastern wing would be a perfect point of entry!” he said. Everyone looked at the moronic midget, utterly flabbergasted.
“Oops, I mean… I like cheese!”

Pussy Weakly stalked around the students, beating them with a strap of liquorice if they talked.

Profaner Snoop scowled at Dumbodork, then turned on his heel and walked into a pillar. “Who the hell keeps putting these columns infront of me whenever I turn around?”

Following the heated discussion between Snoop and Dumbodork, Hormoany turned to Hairy and Rum with eyes wide open. 
“Guys… does my butt look big in this sleeping bag?”

The straw that broke the camel’s back was eighty feet long and weighed four tonnes.

Profaner MuckGonadal thought over the conundrum thoroughly for half a millisecond.

Useless fact #13: The the ulnar nerve on your Humerus is called the ‘funny bone’.

Angelwiener Jopson, Cutie Smell and Illicit Spanner giggled in a masculine manner. “Septic Dingaling, he’s that… well endowed one, isn’t he?” grinned Angelwiener.
“Hung like a centaur.” giggled Cute. Oldliver Would frowned.
“I doon’t want yoo three pleying soft, Septic is varry hard to beat!” he said.
“Off?” added Illicit, joining her friends in wild laughter.
“Oh, shoot oop!” snapped Would. The three girls straightened up, then immediately began guffawing again at the word ‘straighten’.

Oldliver gave Hairy numerous training sessions, where he described deceitful Spinach gambits involving almonds.

Useless fact #14: I am currently writing this at 11:57pm, December 31st 2002. All of the previous pages you have just read will be 2002 material and all that will follow is from 2003 and beyond. (Yeah, that’s right! I spent my New Year’s Eve writing crappy little satires before dozing into a sober sleep. WELL, F*** YOU!)

“Hairy Potted, this class started one year and ten minutes ago!” drawled Snoop.

“Who here can tell me the characteristics of Werlhofs?” leered Snoop. Hormoany’s arm shot upwards and she bobbed up and down as if seated on a Thrustdaddy 2000 vibrator.
“Werlhofs, or those with idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura, can be distinguished by subcutaneous haemorrhaging which causes bruises to swell upover their body.” Profaner Snoop slammed his fist on Loopy’s desk with the force to neuter an ambitious giraffe.

Hormoany was consumed in deep thought, possibly about what her favourite colour was.

That night, Hairy tossed and turned in bed, before adding croutons to his Caesar salad.

Hairy woke up very early in the morning, so early that it was… very early. He looked up at his desk. The analogue face shone five fifteen. This was odd, as it was a desk lamp.

Hairy sighed inwardly. The fierce torrents of rain would not stop a Spinach match, nor would the month August.

Hairy whiled away the hours infront of the fire, then went wild away to breakfast.

At breakfast, Oldliver turned cannibalist by devouring a geriatric urinary organ.

The sky was dark blue.
“Whoopitydoop!” said Hairy, in a dark voice.

A forked tongue flickered between Hormoany’s green lips, black spittle fizzing as it hit the floor. Her eyes blinked sideways.
“Last night I bathed in goat’s blood while sipping a goblet of my own bile.” she rasped. Hairy ogled Hormoany timidly.
“Really?” he meekly murmured. Hormoany clapped a hand on his back.
“Yeah, so good luck in the Spinach match!”

Malformed sidled up to Hairy with his cronies Crappe and Boil on either side.
“So, Potted, are you drenched on the bench cuz your stench was… erm… wrenched from the trench… with a… wench… and… the…  clench?” Malformed trailed off awkwardly.

Madam Hoochie strode out into the middle of the flooding field.
“Mount your mops!” she called, but the screeching wind distorted her voice so that it sounded like she was saying “Purchase convex boomerangs!”

Useless fact #15: Rowling uses the possessive suffix ‘s’ after names that end in ‘s’ anyway, eg. “Sirius’s syphilis”.   

Oldliver looked as though he could have kissed Hormoany… well, he did… and a lot more than that in the remainder of the time out.

The crowd rose to its feet in excitement, or possibly as their bottoms were getting wet from the seats.

“Lucky the pitch was flooded with three metres of hydrofluosilicic precipitation.”

Hairy’s memory suddenly came back like John Travolta.

“Don’t worry,” said Frig. “You can blame your poor performance on the acid rain, the wind, the Dementeds, the angle of the pitch, the height of the grass, the decibel level of the crowd, the referee wearing striped stockings…”

Hormoany was seated beside Hairy’s bed with Rum. She smiled weakly at him through bloodshot eyes. Rum did the same through buckshot eyes.

“…the tectonic plate activity in South Korea, a severe emotional trauma induced by  Winona Rider’s kleptomaniac behaviour, penis envy over Septic Dingaling…” Frig continued babblign on, oblivious to the fact that the joke had worn off minutes ago.

“Wait a minute.” said Hairy. “If I fell fifty feet, with the force of gravity acting on me at ten metres per second, then my fall only lasted one point and a half seconds. And you’re telling me that in that time, a ninety-six year old had the reflexes to disperse several dozen Dementeds and then save me from hitting the ground?” Hormoany looked to Rum. Rum looked to Gavin. Gavin looked to Kevin. Kevin slapped Evan over the head with a rubber chicken.

“…and how come when I can hardly see two feet infront of me, I can suddenly make out Dementeds on the field sixty feet below me?” Hormoany checked with the narrator, then quickly administered a Plot-Hole Forgetting Spell to Hairy and everyone in the room.


--CHAPTER TEN--

Hairy had almost been hit by a bus the first time had seen the Osama. He was weary at the time, but lucky not to be run-down, tyred and exhausted!

“We hadn’t even started Werlhofs!” argued Calendar Brow.
“A thousand word essay!” cried Shameless Finicky.
“Do any of you listen? I really like cheese!” shouted Evan.

Profaner Loopy looked quite weary, with dark rings and bracelets under his eyes.

He began packing pebbles into a blue suitcase.
“Whoopitydoop!” whooped Hairy.

“Whenever the Dementeds flash me, I hear Nerd Vulvamork murdering my parents.” said Hairy. Profaner Loopy went to make a gesture with his hand, possibly flipping Hairy the bird, but thought better and instead began coiling a large anaconda into his trunk..

Hairy helped fold up a circus tent into Loopy’s handbag.

“But you managed to get rid of that one on the Dogfarts Excess.” said Hairy. Loopy stroked his stubbled chin thoughtfully.
“There is a charm, but it is very complex… it would take a lot of patience...” Hairy abruptly cut him off.
“Yeah, yeah, OK, I have heaps of patience. Now, let’s get going!”

Useless fact #16:The 5th element  is Boron. The 44th US President is a moron.

Profaner Loopy ushered Hairy out, claiming that he was under the weather. Hairy could see that he looked pale and disshevelled, but noted that everybody was technically ‘under the weather’.

Ravercork had defeated Hecklepuck by 107, thus meaning that Slivery and Ravercork had to lose to Graafiandor by 75 apiece, then Slivery would have to defeat Ravercork by 68 or more but tie with Hecklepuck in the quarterfinals, so that there would be a 5-point decider against Graafiandor. Then when Hecklepuck defeated Slivery by a 52 point margin, the points would be forfeited to Ravercork and Graafiandor would thus snatch the Cup up in the grand final against whichever of the 3 teams had previously won. Of course, one point out in any of these equations and Graafiandor would have no chance at all of winning.

The heavens parted their hair on Saturday morning to dry the muddy  pitch.

All of the Third Years were ecstatic about visiting Dogsmeat, so much so that Hairy got zapped by ecstatic electricity.

Hairy had been using one of the antique school mops, a Shoddy Star, which was ironically enough very… starry.

Frig and Gorge Weakly were crouched behind the statue of a one-breasted hag.
“Thought we’d give you a bit of festive cheer.” said Gorge, with a wink that could only be interpreted as sexual advancement.

“This,” said Frig, holding up a scroll of toilet paper with a large faecal blotch on it. “Is our most prized secret weapon.” He went to kiss the paper, then stopped on second thought and gave it a hearty pat on the head instead.

“For you see, back when we were freshmen, innocent and Carefree tampons…” began Gorge. Hairy guffawed. The concept of the two Siamese twin Weakly brothers as innocent was about as far-fetched as a celibate Hormoany.
“… Caretaker Belch got slightly irritated when we slaughtered his first born.” Hairy choked on his gum.
“You’re kidding! Mr Belch actually copulated with a female?” he laughed.
“Not exactly… Mrs Notorious had hominid kittens. Looong story.”

Messrs Moody, Germtail, Badfoot and Pongs
Perverters of Scats and Maculated Manure Maps.
present to you: THE DISORDERED CRAP

“May the faeces be with you.”

Hairy felt very powerful holding the incredible crap-smeared toilet tissue, but then he heard the wise words of Arcer Weakly in his head. ‘Front to back to wipe your cr… I mean, never consolidate with blotches of excrement with adult supervision.’

Hairy left Runnypukes after forty minutes, as there had been a large barrel beside the door full of blue toffees, forcing him to call out “Whoopitydoop!” hundreds of times in a row.

“What about this Carbonated Urine drink?” asked Rum.
“Eww, no! Hairy wouldn’t like that. I expect it’s brewed for the Irish.”

“Hairy! How did you get here?” squealed Hormoany. Hairy rolled his eyes sardonically. “Duh, by following the directions of some crap smeared on a sheet of toilet paper!” he said. Hormoany slapped her head.
“Oh, of course. How stupid of me!”

“Why didn’t they give the Disordered Crap to me?” asked Rum in an affronted tone. “I mean, I’m their brother!” Hairy patted Rum sympathetically on the shoulder.
“You forget that you’re a fudgeing loser.” he said. Rum slapped his head with the force to preview a wrinkly carrot.
“Oh, of course, how stupid of me!”

Hormoany’s eyes went blood red and her skin faded to reveal sickly purple veins pulsing violently through her scaly flesh.
“I’ll chain you up while you’re sleeping and then skin you alive with garden shears before hammering nine inch nails into every part of your exposed flesh and then pissing vinegar all over your body.” Rum’s whimpering was reminiscent of a throttled trombone.

“But Bleak couldn’t know about them!” said Hairy. “Frig and Gorge reckon that Belch knows about four of the entrances, one of them has the obese carcass of Chris Farley blocking the way, the other one has the Humping Willow planted right over the entrance and the one I just used is…a log.” Hormoany lifted her eyebrow via a lever.
“A… log?” Hairy swallowed, looked at Rum and then back at Hormoany.
“Yes. A… a log.”

“Come try some Buttockbeer, Hairy!” chirped Rum. Hairy was eager to try the famous sphincter-based beverage.

Hairy kicked open the saloon doors of the The Free Bloomstiffs pub. A piano player in the corner stopped playing abruptly, the room went quite. Hairy sidled slowly up to the bar, his Sneakerscope clinking with each step. He seated himself on a stool as several sweating card players nearby cast him side-glances through clouds of cigar smoke.
“Three mugsof Buttockbeer.” Hairy drawled, hawking up a glob of tobacco into a spittoon. There was a metallic ‘clang’ as the spit hit the cuspidor.
“Oh crap, that was my gold filling!” said Hairy in a whiny nasal voice, abandoning the stool to finger through the spittoon full of warm, viscous saliva.

The narrator shut up, for the sake of marinated keyboards everywhere.

From his position under the table, Hairy made out Profaner Nitwit’s tiny legs protruding out from his high-chair, Cornholio Fridge’s brightly striped trousers, Profaner MuckGonadal’s black cloak and PUT SOME FREAKING PANTS ON, HAGGIS.

Useless fact#17: In 10,000 years of use, there have been no fatalities from marijuana.

“Dementeds have searched here twice,” snarled Rosmutter. “All my customers left indisgust… and the damn stingy wraiths didn’t even leave a tip!”

As if to substantiate his claim, a chihuahua clinging onto a salami flew past the window.

“You say you remember Bleak back at Dogfarts, do you recall his best friend?” asked Profaner MuckGonadal. Rosmutter gave a hearty chuckle.
“Oh, of course! You never saw one without the other, did you? Best of chums, they were, a real dynamic duo! He would always be around Simian Bleak, he would...” yammered Rosmutter cheerfully. Profaner Muck Gonadal frowned.
“You have no idea who Bleack’s best friend was, do you?” she snapped.
“…no, ma’am.”

Fridge emitted a loud oesophagus.

Hairy dropped his mug, resulting in a highly audible vibration emittING from the impact. Rum gave Hairy a swift kick in the face to silence him as Hormoany leapt from a turnbuckle and bodyslammed him.

“Dumbodork thought it would be best that Silly and Lame use the Fidelcastro Charm.” “What’s that?” asked Madam Rosmutter inquiringly, even inquiringlier than before.
“The Fidelcastro Charm is a very difficult spell. It originates from a communist country beginning with the letter ‘C’-”
“China?”
“Shut up! Anyway, it involves concealing the knowledge of someone’s wherabouts inside a single person.” The table murmured excitedly as Rum fed Scabies a whole watermelon. 
“So, who was chosen to keep this secret?” asked Profaner Nitwit avidly.
“A log.” answered MuckGonadal. There was a pregnant pause. It gave birth to an even longer pause.
“A… log?” asked Fridge. Profaner MuckGonadal blinked calmly.
“Yes, that’s right… a log.”

There was a clumsy administration for solitude.

Rosmutter avoided a green hazard in her reply.

The table of adults shuffled uncomfortably… the adults shuffled uncomfortably along with the table.

“Bleak displayed his full devotion to the Bleak Nerd… by giving him a log?” she asked.
“Why, certainly! There is no higher way for a Breath Hater to do so!”

“But the speel rebounded on UNO-Who. Terribly weakened, with all powers destroyed, he fled to Spain, claiming that he was wheelchair bound and required oxygen apparatus…” said Mr Fridge, eyeing Christopher Skase in the corner of the bar.
“This left Bleak in a very icky situation. He had just exposed himself as a Breath Hater at the time Morty became short of breath.” chuckled Fridge. Nobody laughed.

Profaner Nitwir comforted Haggis with a cheeseburger.

“I’m sad to say that Pizza Pitiful was the first to find Bleak…” began Fridge.
“What? Pizza Pitiful?” blurted Rosmutter. “That fat stupid retard who always shat his pants and tripped over himself and nobody liked him and he was a fudgeing moronic loser with no penis?” she asked.
“The very one.” said MuckGonadal.

Rum scratched his eyeball for every apparent reason.

“Pizza was so nervous…he farted…” Fridge’s voice caught in his throat due to an artfully-positioned fly trap.
“Of course Bleak performed a salami-wedging bewitchment on Pitiful’s rear. The pudgy little turd that he was, Pitiful expanded and expanded from the gas pressure until he exploded.” Hairy heard some stifled sobs and rifled mobs.
“I was Head of CSI:Dogsmeat at the time, one of the first at the scene. Bleak was just standing there, laughing his arse off. Likes his fart jokes, old Simian...”

There was a fanfare as Fridge sat his glass on the table.

Rosmutter disemboweled as she listened.

“Bleak asked me for the newspaper to do the crossword puzzles. He was as cool as a cucumber when he asked me for a six letter word starting with ‘c’ for 3 Down, ‘a product of coagulated milk curd’…”

“And worst of all, Simian Bleak remains to this day… Hairy Potted’s fairy godmother!”
The table muttered solemnly amongst themselves as Rosmutter cleared away their goblets and walked them to the door.
“Hairy?” asked Rum and Hormoany, poking their heads under the table, which were white with concern.
“Do our butts look big from down there?”


--CHAPTER ELEVEN—

Hairy’s thoughts were drag racing through his head.

Tucked away in his suitcase was the photo album which Haggis had given him two years ago. Perhaps it was indeed more beneficial than a box of chocolates… but who can put a price on life?

Lame waving up at Hairy, his armpit hair a tangled mess. Silly was smiling happily as she clasped a bouquet of teapots. Next to them was Simian Bleak. He was unrecognisable, mainly due to the paper bag over his head.

“Hairy?” Rum asked in a faltering voice. Hairy closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep by yelling “I’m asleep!” loudly.

Hairy watched the images of Pizza Pitiful’s death over and over, as though there was a looping flip-book pasted under his eyelids.

Rum was knitting a sweater out of navel fluff and Hormoany was reading four books at once.
“Where is everyone?” asked Hairy, the deserted room echoing his question… his question…his question…

“You look awful, Hairy!” said Rum. Hairy frowned.
“You’re no Brad Pitt yourself!”

Hormoany exchanged looks with Rum at the current exchange rate.

Hairy could tell the two had rehearsed their conversation while he was asleep, especially when they broke into a trumpet duet with matching choreography.

“You just…don’t get it, do you Scott?” said Hairy.
“Scott? Who’s Scott?” asked Rum.
“Silence! I will not tolerant insolence!” yelled Hairy, stroking Crackskanks in his lap.
“Uh…” uttered Hormoany slowly, opening her mouth to speak.
“Zip it!” snapped Hairy.
“… um, isn’t that from-” began Rum.
“Zip yer lip, pip!” snapped Hairy. “Ayo, I’m X to the Z and it’s time to flip it, your lips should make like my pseudnoym and X… Zipit!” he rapped lamely.
“Hairy,” grimaced Hormoany, in clear agony. “You’re already ripping off-”
“Shut your mouth!” sang Hairy loudly.
“Oh no, not Shaft…” she cringed, burying her face into her hands.

Unlike normal tears, however, Haggis’ had an alcohol content of 45%.

Haggis sat down on his couch, sending Frang on the other end flying out the window.

He certainly put the ‘blubber’ back into ‘blubbering.’ Hormoany made Haggis a cup of oxen to calm him down.

“Dunno wha’ came o’er me… haven’t bin meself lately.” sniffed Haggis.
“Who have you been, John Malkovich?”

“The wors’ part abou’ Afghanistan is… the shape buildin’!” Haggis shuddered at the very thought. Hairy slowly raised three eyebrows.
“Shape… building?” he repeated. Haggis nodded.
“Oh yeah, big businesses ‘ave bin exploitin’ convict labour e’er since Asian sweatshops got all o’ that bad publicity. The block I was in had bin bought ou’ long ago by Mattel, so my punishment was buildin’ cylindrical moulds o’ Barbie torsos ‘n’ the like using on’y my feet. Guy nex’ the me was a murderer so ‘e had legs ‘n’ arms. I tell yeh, me toes was blisterin’ like no tomorrer! But Simian Bleak had the make the ‘ardest of ‘em all… PRISMS!” Haggis swooned melodramatically at the word. Hormoany, Rum and Hairy were looking at Haggis with bemused expressions, as if he was a quirky Japanese television game show about embalming dead cancer patients.
“Bleak made more plastic prisms ev’ry hour than any o’ the other inmates. Dunno how ‘is feet survived, wit’ all them sharp corners diggin’ in. As if havin’ those disgustin’ Dementeds standin’ next the yeh all day flashin’ yeh wasn’t enough…” Haggis took a deep swig from a gumboot and continued.
“And tha’s why I can’t jus’ set Backbeat free, cuz I could get  the same sentence… bein’ made a Prismer of Afghaniztan!” he wailed tearfully.

Walking back to Graafiandor house, Hormoany turned to Hairy.
“Sorry, but that has to be the hugest plot stretch ever just to work in to the parody title.”

Useless fact #18: The following plurals of ‘us’ words are incorrect: ignorami, hippopotami, rhombi, cacti, succubi, humoroi, tumulutuoi, phalli, Romuli, pi and I.

Dogfarts was now festively furnished with Christmas decorations, sparking further debates over the whole blasphemic behaviour of witchcraft.

Thirty four thousand, five hundred words from NOW!

“Come on!” called Rum, rummaging through a pile of presents. Hairy was soon hairymaging through his own pile.

Hodwog dropped a long package ontop of Rum’s head, denting his skull.
“Woah, what’s that?” Rum asked from under a trickle of blood. Hairy tore off the wrapping paper and his eyes bulged.
“It’s… a log!”

“Who would buy that for you?” frowned Rum. “I mean, your parents left you a small fortune and yet you’ve been given whole loads of free Spinach crap!”

“What do you mean Loopy was away? He was sick that night.” said Hairy.
“Well he wasn’t in the hospital wing, I had a detention licking bedpans there, remember?” said Rum, opening his mouth. A putrid wave still wafting from his blotchy tongue.

Hairy did an impersonation of Malformed upon seeing the Fiatblot. Rum did an impersonation of Hairy impersonating laughter at Rum’s impersonated…what was I saying?

Rum and Hairy cuffed Hormoany’s head simultaneously. (Heh heh. I said ‘aneous’.)

“I am of the impression that any partaker of a journey on that domestic electronic cleaning device will find their locomotion one of mortal endangerment!” said Hormoany piercingly.

Hairy couldn’t help but remember the pet shop owner informing Rum that weasels didn’t usually live past eighteen years of age, let alone own signatures from 1837 royalty.

Christmas spirits were low, as Perves had drunk them all and was barfing violently into the fireplace.

Hairy lowered his voice as the three entered the Grate Hall for Christmas lunch.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” he whispered to Rum.
“I know, you never see any of them in here.” replied Rum.
“Shhh, just keep walking, we don’t want to draw attention to it.” hissed Hormoany, as they passed a black student seated at the table.

Profaner Tralala entered wearing a blue sequinned gown.
“Whoopitydoop!”

“Oh, but an eremitic tiffen would be much safer, for when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be killed off in a dramatic event by the end of Book 7!”

Useless fact #19: The irrational fear of the number thirteen is triskadekaphobia.

“I think it hardly matters, unless there is an axe murderer waiting out in the corridor to execute the first person who exits.” drawled MuckGonadal. Everybody laughed loudly, drowning out the sound of an axe murder dashing away from the doorway in the corridor.

Profaner MuckGonadal gave the Fiatblot a look-over, tutting tuttingly.
“I am afraid I have to take this vacuum cleaner. Miss Ginger and I both agree that it was most probably sent to you by…Yahoo Serious!” There was a brief pause.
“Erm, I mean… Simian Bleak!”

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/19/05 at 10:36 pm

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/SeverusManson.jpg

--CHAPTER TWELVE--

“How are you, Hairy? Did you have a good Christmas?” asked Oldliver Would. Hairy’s eyes ogled the boy’s speech.
“Uh, Oldliver. Why don’t you have that annoying Irish accent anymore?” he asked. Would shrugged.
“Well, it was a complete witch writing all of the ‘i's as ‘a’s so that it took ages to spell check, so instead I’m just going to speak normally with an underline representing an accent.” Hairy nodded slowly in comprehension.
“Oh, I see. So… if I speak in a really thick Irish accent like this, do we use double-underline?” Hairy asked, in a really thick Irish accent.
“No, Hairy.”
He crammed a slice of magnesium in his mouth.

Classes began within the next six million years. (ie. The next day.)

In Palm reading, Profaner Tralala informed the class that two small coconuts signified with Hairy’s miniscule testicles or an ill celestial alignment. Hairy readily admitted that  his cosmic alignment was definitely off.

“Man, Loopy’s skin is so blotchy and purple. I wonder what’s wrong with him.” said Rum. An audible, agitated “Hyperbilirubinemia!” came from behind them. Hormoany was carrying a large pile of book-on-tapes. Between her labia.
“Why are you ‘hyperbilrubinemia’-ing us for?” frowned Rum.
“What?” asked Hormoany innocently. Rum scowled.
“I said I wondered what was wrong with Loopy and you-” Hormoany’s mouth suddenly bulged. She tilted her head sideways, her dilated eyes locking onto Rum’s. A single bee popped out of her mouth, followed by a black torrent of bees swarming from her lips.
“SLAUGHTER THE CHILDREN!” she roared, thick streams of oil pouring from her fingernails down her arms, the skin all over her body melting away from the bone like hot wax. Hairy and Rum lay on the floor in the foetal position, trembling. Hormoany leant over the two, her usual face pouting at them.
“Well, if you’re going to lie on the floor like idiots, I won’t tell you!”

Profaner Loopy strolled into the classroom carrying a purse in one hand and a large closet on his shoulder.
“What’s that?” asked Hairy, puzzled. Profaner Loopy blinked.
“It’s called a handbag, Hairy. You carry small personal items in it.”he said slowly.
“No, what’s that on your shoulder?” asked Hairy, pointing towards the giant cupboard. “Holy sheesh! How the hell did that get there?” yelled Profaner Loopy, swatting it away.

“If sorcery took that long to learn, no one would be interested in these stories.” said Loopy. Hairy snorted again in a highly snortius manner.
“You actually believe people are interested in these stories?”

“Now, this incantation is called the Patrheinous. It is an image of great foulness which acts as a shield between you and a Demented.” said Loopy. Hairy suddenly envisioned a giant levitating tampon with a machete.

“Sexexpo Patrheinous!” called Hairy, stroking his wand as fast as he could.
“Sexexpo Patrheinous! Sexex… ex… ex…” Hairy collapsed into a drooling slumber.
“Ezekiel! EZEKIEL?!” called Profaner Loopy.
“Hairy.” prompted Hairy. Loopy grimaced in umbrage.
“I knew it, Hairy. HAI-RY! One more time!”

He handed Hairy a marshmallow from his pocket, it resembled a dishevelled uvula.

“Hairy? HAIRY?!”
“It’s Ezekiel.” said Hairy.
“Oh crap! I thought I’d… hey, wait a minute, you little piece of-”

“You weren’t best friends with my father at Dogfarts, thus creating some sort of unforeseen bond between you and Simian Bleak?” asked Hairy.

Slivery had defeated Ravercork by the required 69 points, thus opening up the chance for Graafiandor to defeat them both by 75, with them tying with Hecklepuck in the quarterfinals. Then the 5-point decider against Graafiandor could determine if Hecklepuck needed to defeat Slivery by 52 points or forfeit for the points to be given to Ravercork, or vice versa. Any way it went,  Graafiandor could snatch up the Spinach Cup in the grand final against one of the three others. Or not.

Rum swallowed a marshn (half a marshmallow).

“Oldliver, how come you’re now speaking in italics?” asked Hairy.
“Well, it looked really disorientating having underlines under each sentence, because it ran through all the low-riding letters like ‘y’, ‘p’, ‘q’, and ‘g’.” replied Oldliver. Unfortunately, the Foreign-phrases-and-stress-placed-on-particular-words writer strode into the scene.
Sorry, mon ami, but I’ve got dibs on all use of italics. she said.
And don’t even think about using bold!  boomed Chapter Heading Man boldly.
“Sorry, Would, I think we’ll have to stick with onomatopoeic spelling.” said Hairy.
“Foin, we’ll stack wath ornomatopayack spalling for moi speech.”

“How does she do it?” asked Rum, motioning to where Hormoany had a heap of parchments piled infront of her. Hairy shrugged.
“Hmm, I suppose she just puts one sheet down, then repeats the process until a small pile has accumulated from all of the-” Rum cuffed Hairy with a box of paracetamol.

“She was talking to teacher about Ancient Loons lessons on Wednesday, but she was with us in Careless Magical Creatures. Bernie McMullian told me she hasn’t missed any of her Muffin Buddies lessons, but they’re in the same line as Imagination.” said Rum. Hairy sat back with a bewildered expression on his face.
“Come to think of it, we have Poachings on at the same time as Transmogrification!”

“Lick my motherf***ing c*** you c*** a**ed p****.” said Would, in Symbol font.
“Riiight.” said Hairy. He whipped out an English/Greek dictionary from his pocketin order to translate.
“Ride me like a dolphin, Emma Watson, you briny little b****." said Oldliver.
“Let’s see… ‘I joost talked to Profasser MuckGonadal boot shae wouldn’t give back your Foitblot.’” translated Hairy. Would nodded and continued on.
“Ooh, you stud Rupert Grint. Give me that c*** now.” continued Oldliver.
“Erm… ‘Yoe shoold maybe thank aboot gatting a new vacuum clayner. A Bambus Two Thousand and Woon wood do foin.’” Hairy scowled at Oldliver.
“I’m not riding anything that Malformed likes.” he said. Would blinked.
“My God, Hairy Potted has no penis. What a f***ing loser.” he said.
“Oh yeah, I guess Malformed does like the Fiatblot and I don’t mind the notion of riding THAT. I’d better just wait for MuckGonadal to finish her inspection.” said Hairy .
“Maggie Smith, let's get down with Emma in a jacuzzi cauldron.” said Oldliver, smiling to Hairy. Hairy blinked.
“You want to do WHAT with Maggie Smith and Emma Watson?” he replied, shocked. Would hastily shook his head.
“Oh, right… ‘See yoe at Spanach practice, Hairy.’”

January evanesced into February in an excessively incognoscible manner.

“Stop beating yourself up about it, Hairy. Premature incantation is common at your age.”

“Buttockbeer! I love that creamy rectal goodness!” called Hairy, before he could control himself. He cursed his faulty control panel. Profaner Looy scrutinised Hairy closely.
“Erm, cuz I had an elaborate set of tubes set up to Rum’s throat so that I could siphon liquids off ...” Loopy raised an eyebrow by pulling a little string at the side of his head.

“Hairy, when you hear a Demented’s long, drawn out rattle, you’re actually hearing a fart. Dementeds have an butt instead of a head, so are able to latch their butt aperture to your face until the suction from their sphincter causes a victim’s brain to get sucked out.”

“Master Potted, Madam Pomfret and I have performed numerous colonic irrigations, proctological examinations and have used over a dozen cold rectal thermometers on your Fiatblot. You have one perfectly healthy vacuum cleaner here! At least, it was, before we crammed several hundred various objects up its rectum.” she said, handing Hairy back his Fiatblot and smiling at him in a manner that could only be interpreted as a sexual advancement.

Useless fact #20: The plural of colon is cola.

Rum belly-danced in a dhoti in celebration.

Nibble Longbuttocks attempted a freestyle rap, but wasn’t a good swimmer.

“See, Hormoany, the vacuum was perfectly safe.” taunted Rum, finally being able to pin something on Hormoany.
“Your left testicle has yet to descend.” replied Hormoany bluntly, not even looking up from her work.

Hormoany’s right hand worked on her Poachings essay, her left hand copied out notes on goblin/mermaid marraige laws, her feet typed up a report on Transmogrification whilst her elongate tongue sifted through a large file about magical forms of cosmetic surgery.

“Look at these stains!” roared Rum, holding up his bedsheets in front of Hormoany.
“Yuck, I don’t want to see that!” recoiled Hormoany.


--CHAPTER THIRTEEN--

Rum was furious at Hormoany for not giving her huge pet its required 158 kg of daily nutrition in raw meat. Hormoany claimed that Exhibits A through F were hearsay, corrupt cops had planted evidence at the scene and Crackskanks’ was a victim of racial profiling.

Nibble Lungbuttock had invested in a bullet-proof vest to protect himself against any attacks. Hormoany already had protection. (Groooan!)

“Scabies was a geriatric weasel with six types of gangrenous tail infections! Get over it!” snapped Gorge, thumping Rum over the head with an extroverted accordion.

Even Madam Pooch, the Spinach teacher, had something to say about the Fiatblot.
“Something.” she clearly instructed the crowd of onlookers.

“Now, mate, that flamin’ sheila Choke Chain will be Ravercork Peeper. Crikey, your bonzer Fiatblot will go falt out like a lizard drinkin’ compared to her Vomit Too Sickly.” Hairy tried ignoring the ever-changing accent of Oldliver Would.

Hairy nodded, unsure if they were talking about African delicacies or lawn products.

“tick off, you lummox!” yelled Rum. Crackskanks spat out Evan and scampered away.
Evan sat up, drenched in a thick layer of drool.
“I like cheese!”

A salami, with a recognisable chihuahua holding onto it for dear life, ricochetted off Perve’s head and shot off into the distance.

The Ravercorks came over to gaze adoringly at the Fiatblot. Unfortunately, this caused Hairy to squawk “Whoopitydoop!” several hundred times.

Malformed maintained his composure with a liberal application of super glue.
“Pity it doesn’t come equipped with a pillow, teddy and a night light incase you feel sweepy fwom a Demented.” he jeered. The Slivery table erupted into laughter.
“Um, it does.” retorted Hairy.

“Now Hairy, have yoe figoored oot what to doe incase any more Damantads show oop?” asked Would. Hairy nodded meekly, tucking his magical rod into his pants and double-checking the ‘Pillow, Teddy & Night Light’ function on his Fiatblot.

Frig Weakly pointed out Choke Chain to Hairy. She was a short Asian girl who was wearing a face mask due to inevitably being a SARS carrier. Hairy couldn’t help but notice that she looked rather attractive. He felt a slight jolt in the region of his stomach, also known as his THROBBING COCK.

The Spinach players mounted their mops, vacuum cleaners and squeegees.

Hairy looked down at the field. There, below him, stood three looming Dementeds. Without a secodn thought, Hairy reached into his pants, fumbling around until his hand  gripped around his wand. He began shimmying his hand up and down the baton, picturing a lurid memory in his head.
“Exputrid Patrheinous! Exputrid Patrheinous!” he shouted, but nothing was happening. “Come on! Exputrid Patrheinous!” With a quick burst, Hairy saw a bright silver substance launch down onto the Dementeds.

“Oh well, a draw isn’t such a bad outcome.” said Profaner Loopy. Hairy looked up.
“Did you see my Patrheinous?” he asked eagerly. Loopy grimaced.
“Well, about that…” He held up Hairy’s wand. “This fell out of your pants at the start of the match.” Hairy looked from his baton to the Dementeds laying on the ground covered in goop.
“…oh. OH!”

Profaner MuckGonadal scowled at the Sliverys. “What a lily-livered, craven and pusillanimous deed to have done!”

The bloo drained from her face. She turned slowly to the huddled Graafiandors.
“Which careless fool wrote down all of this week’s passwords on the wall beside the Graafiandor entrance?” she asked in a deadly hiss. Nibble Lungbuttock raised his hand and chuckled sheepishly to himself.
“Heh heh… that’s a lot of gravy!”


--CHAPTER FOURTEEN--

No one in the Insomniacs Correctional Facility slept that night. Neither did anyone in Graafiandor.

Profaner Nitwit was fingerprinting the cummin room with dandruff.

Useless fact #21: A hummingbird can beat its wings up to 75 times per minute.

“Not with Dementeds swarming all over Dogsmeat!” retorted Hairy, earning a  jealous look from a nearby retort stand.

Rum had become a minor celebrity. (All celebrities under 18 are minor.)

“Oh no, my grandmother has sent me a Bawler.” said Nibble Longbuttocks.
“What the f*** h*** were you thinking, you d***headed c***?!” screeched the Bawler, with the voice of dear old Granny Longbuttocks. “If you pull any s*** like that again, your f***** a** will be f***ing crucified, you hear me, p****? I mean, how d*** stupid can you f***ing get, you c***munching, s***-for-brains b****!!!”

Hodwog grabbed Hairy’s attention by driving a steamroller through the wall.

Hairy and Rum exchanged guilty looks at the blackcurrant exchange rate.

Evan called “I like cheese!” and twisted his leg into a reef knot.

“People can be stupid abou’ their pets, yeh know.” said Haggis sagely, as Hodwog shat on Hairy’s neck and Frang sneezed a viscous glob of mucus into Rum’s face.

“I knew it! You’re planning to go to Dogsmeat!” snapped Hormoany, pulling off her wallpaper camouflage. As she stood infront of them, festering boils bubbled up from underneath her skin, oozing foul goo down her body like a steaming pus volcano.
“If you do, I’ll chain you up inside a cauldron and slowly heat it before dousing you with honey and pouring in a colony of fire ants.”

Hairy tried to not act too suspicious, which was easy as he was a crap actor.

He glanced down at the Disordered Crap, to see several names gathered around his own. Hairy looked up suddenly and emitted a cry of shock. Nibble Longbuttocks, Colon Creamey and a hoard of spectacled, hoarsely-breathing nerds were crowded around him, staring at him wide-eyed. Nibble Longbuttocks stepped forward, guffawing in a pitch higher than Mount Everest.
“Hey, Hairy! Wanna come back with us to compare collector discs? I have the silver-plated collector Steve Hawking set, m-hawk m-hawk!” he snorted. Hairy quivered in horror as the gang of drooling geeks closed in on him.
“No! Nooo! NOOOOOO!!!” At that moment, a nuclear missile flew in through the window and exploded in a shower of steaming compost.
“That’s a lot of gravy!” said Nibble.

Malformed appeared from around the path, cahtting to Crappe and Boil.
“Father says he’s convinced the committee that the extent of my blood loss renders me legally dead. Can you imagine that oaf Haggis on the bench? ‘I’d bett’r change me plea from innocent, all o’ this overwhelmin’ evidence means I mus’ be guilty!’”

Malformed swiftly whipped out his Invisibility-Reversing Goggles.
“Aha! Potted!” he yelled triumphantly. Hairy whipped out his Anti-Invisibility-Reversing-Goggles-Laser, but the damage had already been done.

Useless fact #22: South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut has the World Record for most swearing in an animated film, with 399 profanities.

The room had been coated in black paint, adorned with eerie lighting and the plumbing had been specifically fitted to drip every few seconds, accentuating the dark atmosphere of the setting using conventional symbolism.

Profaner Snoop strapped Hairy into a lie detector machine, a single dirty light globe swinging above him in the dingy darkness.

“So,” grinned Snoop malevolently. “Even though the minionstry has hired Dementeds to allow civilians to safely roam the streets, the famous Hairy Potted wishes to safely roam  the streets instead!”

Hairy was on his feet, shaking with suppressed rage and early signs of Parkinson’s.

“Oh, your father saved my life, did he?” snarled Snoop. “Let me enlighten you on the whole story, Potted!” he hissed, before whipping out sock puppets and a detailed diagram of an almond, to tell a wondrous tale of Billy the Rabbit and his adventure in sock land.

Profaner Snoop’s spidery fingers explored the turd-smeared scroll of toilet paper.
“Does this contain hidden instructions on how to properly neuter a flamingo? Or a way to pass the Dementeds to get to Dogsmeat without having to simply fly over them on a Spinach mop?” said Snoop. Hairy flinched, why hadn’t he thought of that?
“Tellus meus whateverus itus isus thatus youus areus concealingus!” chanted Snoop, prodding the Disordered Crap with his baton. He paused and smirked to himself.
“Heh heh… I just said ‘areus’.”

A familiar figure appeared on the blotch of crap.
“You look like you want me to reveal my secret. Do you need any help?” it asked.
“Yes.” replied Snoop.
“Hint: try using me to reveal myself!” chirped the chocolate-brown paper clip.

As if an unseen finger was drawing in mud, words formed in the fecal blotch.
Mr Moody would like to inform Severed Snoop that he is a f***wit. Lick my a**.
Mr Pongs c**s all over Severed Snap’s b**** mother and p***es in her m***.
Mr Badfoot thinks Snoop stinks like s***, looks like a f***ing n***** and has no d***.
Mr Germtail f***s f*****s like Snoop daily and c***s d***  s*** on his p**** c***.

The three stood waiting as a faint voice in the distance slowly grew into a loud scream. Rum suddenly came smashing through the ceiling and landed heavily on the floor. Dust, plaster fragments, rubble and debris showered the room, covering Hairy, Snoop and Loopy with a thick layer of asbestos. After a pause, Rum coughed, sending a cloud of dust across the room in the shape of a Zoroastrian eggplant.
“I got that stuff… from Dogsmeat… for Hairy…ages ago… gave receipts to charity…”

“Do you know what happened the last time a student left a sheesh-smeared sheet of toilet tissue lying around?” rapped Profaner Loopy. Hairy scrupled thisfor a moment.
“Um… no.” he replied.
“I trod in it!” spat Loopy. “Took twenty minutes to clean off my shoe!”

Useless fact #23: There are 104 keys on my keyboard. I only use 74 of them.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/19/05 at 10:38 pm

http://www.freeonlinegames.com/images/1269.jpg

--CHAPTER FIFTEEN--

“Malformed probably has the committee hanging off strings, like… you know, some sort of figure that can be controlled by someone pulling their strings...” said Hairy.
“A puppet?” replied Hormoany slowly.
“Hmm? Puppet? What the hell is that?” answered Hairy. Off in the distance, the sounds of ‘bother bother bother’ faintly carried down from the hills.

Hormoany collapsed into Rum’s arms, sobbing.
“Oh Rum! I’m so sorry for using your electric toothbrush as a vibr-” she stopped mid-sentence. “I mean… that Crackskanks brutally murdered your ferret. I mean, he probably toyed with the tortured animal for hours on end before slowly tearing apart Scabies’s limbs, ripping away the raw flesh and mauling the rest of his corpse into shreds by hacking through the bones with his teeth!”

“S’no use. Luscious Malformed can manipulate them committee members like… err, you know, those figures yeh can control wit’ strings an’ stuff…”

“Father says I might be able to keep the head!” sneered Drachma Malformed. Hormoany seethed silently, small wisps of steam slowly curling out from underneath her hair. Her large tongue whipped out like an enraged serpent. Her eyes had become deep red slits and she opened her mouth to reveal several rows of needle-like teeth. As her hair swam about her like flames, licking violently at the air, razor-sharp scales erupted from her skin, glistening with corrosive mucus and wafting a heavy sickly aroma. A tail emerged from behind her and fleshy wings sprouted from her shoulder blades. She twisted and writhed as she grew to twice her height, firey sparks dancing from her fingers and toes. Hormoany leant right down to Malformed and roared as loud as she could, the colossal sound blowing back his pale hair with hot air. She flexed her entire body, muscles rippling out the size of basketballs, then raised her mammoth paw and, swinging down to Malformed… gently flicked his ear.
“AARGH!” shrieked Malformed, clutching his ear in utter terror.

Profaner Nitwit glance up at the clock.
“Miss Ginger is late.” he said. All of the male students gasped loudly.

“Hey p****, your mum’s so f***ing fat, her a** rivals the gravity of Jupiter!” spat Profaner Nitwit. The class appeared as Deen Dumbass performed a Jeering Charm and his own mouth ballooned to twice its normal size.
“Oh yeah, c***? Yor skanky-a** b**** is so fat, I ate out her f***ing hymen as a four course meal!” A roar of laughter sounded from his fellow students.
“Well, your c*** is so small it’s coming two feet out of your f***ing a**hole!” retorted Perverted Petal. Rum turned to mouth-off at Hormoany, but she had disappeared.

Hairy found Hormoany fast asleep in the Graafiandor cummin room.
“Wake up, you f***ing w**** and get your h***** a** outta bed, b****!” he berated.  Rum looked at Hairy with a raised eyebrow.
“Hasn’t your Jeering Charm worn off yet?” he asked.
“Um, yeah.” replied Hairy.

Useless fact #24: There are 26 letters in the English alphabet. (Go on, count them!)

Hormoany looked scandalised. Rum appeared Wigglesised and Hairy had a rather Hi-5ised demeanour to him.

Profaner Tralala silenced Billy Crystal with an old crochet magazine, before slicing open his engorged scrotum with a rusty chainsaw.

The rest of the lesson was spent staring into wet, veiny Billy Crystal balls.

“Have you seen anything in it yet?” Rum asked Hairy.
“Yes,” replied Hairy. “A pube.” he drawled. Hormoany grunted in frustration.
“This is such a waste of time. I could be doing something worthwhile, like farming artichokes in Thailand.”

Deen Dumbass voiced his opinion on the copious amounts of work being heaped onto the students.
“I am voicing my opinion on the copious amounts of work being heaped onto the students.”

“We lost boi three hoondred and thirty seven points, Ravercork beat Hecklepuck boi exactly one hoondred and sax. Then Slavery narrowly defayted Ravercork boi saxty eight boot tied with Hecklepuck at the quarter foinals. During the five point decoider, we only joost scraped through against Ravercork. Foinally, fafty three points were deducted from Ravercork and gaven to Hecklepuck for not forfeiting.” Hairy had completely understood the previous barrage of mathematics, and had a well-informed idea of how each team was going.
“So countering an the fact that Ravercork’s Chasie point-accumulation gats gaven to Graafiandor hoose, as we’re last…” Oldliver Would did some calculations in his oesophagus. “Hecklepuck as on one thoosand, three hoondred and forty noin. Ravercork’s on one thousand, three hoondred and savanty four. Slavery is so far on one thoosand, two hoondred and fafty and we’re on one thoosand, two hoondred and twalve point-three-repayter.”

Useless fact #25: Fifty thousand words from NOW!

Pussy Weakly stopped drooling over National Geographic centre-folds as the bubbling enthusiasm of the Spinach final interrupted his focus. It seemed that even the fungus carpeting Yahoo Serious’ skeleton was quivering in anticipation.

“You’ll be alright,” Rum assured Hairy as assuringly as he could. Hormoany nodded.
“If all else fails, just wire a headlight to your armpit and sneeze like a lawnmower!”

Hairy dreamed that he had overslept and woken up fifty years in the future, where cheese was World President and all earthlings were enslaved by imps in golden dhotis. He then dreamt that he was playing Spinach on Frang, whilst Haggis pelted them with the bent blood-stained bones of Backbeat. (Woah! Alliteration attack!)

Hairy woke up panting heavily, like a teenager pants heavily after waking up.

The Foreboding Forest looked very foreboding… and, funnily enough, like a forest.

A sudden movement caught Hairy’s eye and began bouncing it like a basketball.

Crackskanks was prowling around the gouged ground soundlessly at an hour of sourness, though he was now towering near a thousand pounds. (Assonance attack!)

“Hey, wait! I didn’t say ‘Whoopitydoop’ at the sight of the colour blue!” called Hairy. Oldliver Would grinned.
“Great! Now yoo’ll be able to focus more on catchang thas.” he said proudly, holding up the Baldin’ Snatch.
“Hobbledyscop!” yelled Hairy at the sight of the snot-green colour. “Dammit!”

“Yeah, Angelwiener grabs the thing and… mmm, knocks some pins over… Worringsome of Slivery does… another thing and…misses. Yeah, there’s a foul.” commentated Leek Jargon laconically.

Flimp shot at Hairy with an assault rifle… and failed. Malformed attempted to hit Hairy with a boomerang… and failed. Colon Creamy attempted hitting on Hormoany…

“So, Potted gets the Baldin’ Snatch like we all knew he would.” drawled Leek Jargon. “Yawn! I’m off for a wank…”

“Ladies and gentleman,” began Madam Hoochie. “…and Evan.” she added as an afterthought.

Hecklepuck: 1,652. Ravercork: 1,652. Slivery: 1,652. Graafiandor: 1,652.333
“Yoo’re kaddang.” blurted Would. “Averywoon wall be playang an the foinal?”

Four sets of bowling-alleys were set up at either corner of the field. There were four Waffles, eight Bludgeons, eight Bleaters, twelve Chasies, four Peepers, four Peekers, but only the one Baldin’ Snatch. For this special final, it would be fifty points per pin. Just to make things interesting, Dumbodork made them all wear blindfolds and the game was to last for only one second. Each of the players hovered off the ground, the warm air whistling past them. Dust spiralled along the ground, whispering silently. The whole crowd was silent, the silence… was… whole… of the… crowd. Madam Hoochie’s boots crunched along the dirt as smoke billowed in the background. She gave each of the blindfolded Chasies a Waffle, a Bludgeon for each Bleater and then set free the Baldin’ Snatch, which flitted off into the air. Hairy was unable to see the shiny golf ball, so would have to rely on his hearing. The tension mounted, only the howling of the wind could be heard throughout the packed stadium. Madam Hoochie looked up at Profaner MuckGonadal and nodded. The scoreboard clicked to zero, zero, zero, and zero. The Spinach final was on! The stadium slowed down to a crawl as a long, drawn out foghorn began the game. Everything moved in slow motion. All of the eight Bleaters, with exaggerated arm movements, bashed their Bludgeons in unison. At the same time, the twelve Chasies, who had each linked their arms together for a team-throw of the Waffle, catapulted their arms forward. The four Peekers had also zoomed forward by one-tenth of a second, listening avidly for the flittering of the Baldin’ Snatch. By point two of a second, the Waffles had rippled past each other, crisscrossing through their flight paths in perfect coherence. All of Bludgeons bashed through each of the Chasies, one after the other, ricocheting into the air. The players flipped backwards in slow motion, arcing through the air. A third of a second had passed. The Ravercork Peeper leapt blindly sideways, nicking the Waffle. It spiralled slowly into the pins behind him. Another Waffle grazed the arm of the Slivery Peeper, rebounding down along the bowling alley. Oldliver Would pulled off a spectacular sideways cartwheel-flip, spinning his mop to hit the oncoming Waffle. The sound echoed out like a helicopter propeller. Unfortunately he was on the wrong side of the bowling alley, the Waffle catapulting into the tenpins. The Graafiandor Waffle thwacked the Hecklepuck Peeper straight in the head… a save. Half a second had passed as the Bludgeons paused in their upwards spiralling and slowly turned to fall with gravity. Something triggered Hairy’s mouth to curl open and shout “HOBBLEDYSCOP!!!” All four Peekers blindly soared closer and closer to the centre of the pitch, the Baldin’ Snatch moulting in the sunlight. The four Peepers were already halfway down to the grass below, all twelve Chasies were dropping like a line of flies just above them, groping blindly at the air as they fell. All of the Bleaters were soaring along behind the Peekers, swinging madly in hopes of keeping any Bludgeons away. The Waffles were still slowly obliterating the tenpin formations, shattering splinters of wood. As the clock passed two-thirds of a second, each Peeker raised their hand out in front of them. Their cheeks rippled from the wind resistance. Below them, the Peepers twisted to face the oncoming ground and the Chasies flailed their arms as they plummeted towards the field. Each of the Peekers closed in on the Baldin’ Snatch, the Bleaters raising their clubs as the digits of the timer flickered to point nine of a second. The crowd rose to their feet, a gigantic bass roar erupting from their slow-motion throats. The digits continued to tick over, Waffles continued smashing ten pins, Bludgeons continued speeding downwards as Chasies and Peepers approached mere centimetres from the ground… As the clocks numerals fluttered to read 1.000, Hairy snatched the Baldin’ Snatch from the air and zoomed upwards in triump. In a flash, the player’s blindfolds had gone and time, . gravity and inertia returned to normal. The Bleaters swooshed their bats violently. SPLATTER! Each connected with the opposing Bleater, blood spraying out from their heads. The three remaining Peekers collided heavily into one another with a sickening crunch. The four Peepers hit the ground with a staccato peppering, followed by a pattering of Chasies into the sand. Forced bleats of wind were knocked out of them as the Bludgeons landed on top of them. The Waffles stopped spinning and sat in their respective alleys. Two Ravercork pins remained standing, an eighth Slivery pin toppled over. Oldliver Would had conceded a 7-10 split. 50 points were tallied per pin, and 400 points were awarded to Hairy for catching the Snit. The scoreboard projected the final score: Hecklepuck: 2,052. Ravercork: 2,052. Slivery: 2,052. Graafiandor: 2,052.333
As the crowd boomed a deafening cheer and Hairy was swamped by students trampling over the bloodied Spinach players, Evan stood up calmly in the emptied stands.
“I… like… cheese.” he said, a tear crawling down his face.


--CHAPTER SIXTEEN--

All anybody wanted to do was be hoarded up in the dank, cold dark of the castle walls cramming through thousands of pages of academia, practising endlessly and brainwashing their subconscious into remembering every specific event from the past five thousand years of witchcraft. But they couldn't, as students were forced to lounge about in the sunlight, laughing and playing by the lake.

Fried and Gorge Weakly had been seen ignoring their P.A.R.R.O.Ts (Preparation And Reflection Regarding Over-rated Tests) and Pussy could be found neglecting his O.P.R.A.H (One Pretty Reasonable Acronym Here) studies.

Useless fact #26: There are more sheep in New Zealand than people. Orgy!

“Have you been studying for the Breakdown Of Our Third Year examinations?” asked Rum. Hairy blinked,
“B.O.O.T.Y?”

The judge was passing his verdict.
“Due to a typo in the spelling of the word ‘pulchritudinous’, I have no choice but to find the Hippygruff, Backbeat, guilty of all charges.”

Profaner Nitwit did indeed curse a blue streak, the students having to scrub it off the walls with turpentine
.
In the Poachings examination, Profaner Snoop made them concoct a Butt Liquor. Hairy accidentally added feline guts instead of behind pus, thus created a vat of Pussy Liquor.

Hormoany and Rum, not being on non-speaking terms with the Minionster of Magic, hovered awkwardly five feet in the air.

One was a highly anorexic geriatric whose generic cataracts were intact. (I-have- no-idea-what-sort-of-English-term-that-was… attack!)

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/20/05 at 7:24 pm

Loyal To The Game

http://www.firststop.de/images/wir%20ueber%20uns/shake_hands.jpg

It's everyone for themselves as you now enter the field.
An inner feeling of illness nerves and tension's revealed.
You spin and you reel, a grim thrill. You're in it for real.
A whistle squeals out loud and shrill to begin this ordeal.
And like oil on flame the game of life is now started.
All the players ranked the same, all striving to outsmart it.
Keep on toiling through the pain, keep on tryna write your mark.
Players boiling with the shame if they're sliding down the bar.
Hear the turmoil and disdain, like an icy cloud of dark.
Some royal opponents reign, while those behind don't get far.
Men destroyed and maimed. Next gear, your rivals become harder.
Just stay loyal to the game and keep your eyes above water.
Obey the rules, know your limits, use skill to stay on top.
Stay well fuelled, play to win it, wave farewell to they who've dropped.
Competition opposition, all striving for success.
But you're itchin' for perfection, this is mine to possess.
Second wind, it's the final minutes. An endorphin rush.
Beckoning is the title glintin' and soft to the touch.
You want it so much, you're limpin' but you struggle and push.
Neck-to-neck and sprintin, everything's becoming a hush.
Then the whistle blows and the game has ended for you.
Who's the winner? No matter, man, you're just not caring who.
Players grinning, patting backs, shaking hands with whoever.
This endeavour turns competitors birds of the feather.
No matter the teams, field, or the state of the weather.
It's the game you stay loyal to- play and win together.

Subject: Re: ...Siamese Ellipses...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/25/05 at 3:03 am

Afraid To Fall

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v385/lucifers_tears/an_fallen_angel_2.jpg

My mind is frayed, hazed in a blinding glaze.
I'm betraying myself. Can find no rays
Of sunshine. I lay nigh decayed white shade.
I pray to find my way, that light won't fade.
Repeated bitter-sweet beats of defeat.
My weakness eats away, I can't compete
With these harsh streaks of dark, bleak self-critique.
I'm filth, a freak. Guilt leaks out, help retreats
In vile flows of ghostly, frozen spirals.
No smiles. Hope's beguiled, exposing denial.
A spire of fumes consumes my fire in gloom.
A choir of doom inspires an ire perfume.
Inside a tomb my tired eyes are exhumed.
Can't hide, the looming mire inside me blooms
To desecrate my fate with waves of hate.
Create a crater of baneful restraint.
A weight of clay that lays away in wait.
Tainted grey berations staining my faith.
Reprise of me diseased by evil screams.
On bleeding knees I plead, please free my dreams.
This breeze is freezing, squeezing all esteem.
Debris of glee appeased these teasing streams
Of my all. Invaded, enthralled by gall.
I'm stalled and can't evade this solid wall.
I crawled this blade of shame, became so small.
Need to stand tall, but I'm afraid to fall.
Writhe in strife, surviving this spiteful life.
My trials have knifed all drive to strive and thrive.
I've wisened, despite the trials that arise.
Must wipe my eyes or invite demise... Now rise.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/31/05 at 2:28 am

Fork In The Road

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/ForkInTheRoad.jpg

Dawn...
The light of freedom of which we abode.


A new dawn yawns and crawls mournfully through the morning dew
Warming the bruised and sordid hues of dormant royal blue
The spawns of subdued torpor muse the forlorn view
Confused newborns foreordained to walk routes that corpses choose
Scorned pursuits warped askew by Lucifer's alluring fruits
Obscuring truth, abuse the pure- they're pawns to use   
Ornery youth infused with the lure of unlawful groups
Gone, adieu, raw moods fuel the beat of feet in wornout shoes
Treading through peat, silhouetted against beds of dead weeds
Red leaves and cigarettes. You leave to forget your misdeeds
Weaving through streets of grief, regret and bleeding shreds of greed
Deceive these naive teenage heads, we've set out in retreat
Fled in self-defeat, scared to believe in misled deceit
And cheating. Threats help to succeed in getting bread to eat
Need edible meat to feed and breathe, heathens tread concrete
Stampede ahead. Seedlings have bled, it's creeds of dread we bleed
Sweet beliefs are shed as the guilt of evil spreads and breeds
Like heaving sheets of lead, this pain cleaves threads of dreams- impedes
And heeds the speed of heated, fatigued steps as sweat excretes
Wets streets which fed we cretins relief, then upset our feet
Flocks of lost, exhausted drones are growing, walking alone
Mocked the fork in the road, thrown by the torque of darker zones
Harked testosterone, fogged the minds of clones. Stark are our moans
Hawked at the throne that was shown by the path of loving tones   
Now we're locked to the chalk of our bones and stalk the unknown
Gawk and groan, spark and explode, roaming the rockiest loam
Caught in the flow of slow motion clocks, unlockable codes
Horrible odes corrode bodies to the nothing we chose
Longing for home, but our toes are sewn to walk on those stones
We took the loathsome road and so now grope through ruptured hopes
You've taken the wrong path? Turn back to lift the angst of nethers
Belatedly lament, repent... Hell, better late than never
Elate ourselves, inflating breaths for young decayed cadavers
We can escape the hate and wrathful fate of death forever

Dusk...
Endless figures standing alone at a fork in the road.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/08/05 at 10:21 pm

The Hobo Of Beverly Hills

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/Hobo.jpg

I'm not your ordinary bum with a trolley.
Rather, I push an abandoned Ferrari!
Why would I live in an old cardboard box?
These bins are chock-full of warm Enron stocks!
There's a severe lack of resident vagabonds.
So I mooch ALL the second-hand extravagance! 
Tossed a mink coat to keep warm for the night?
Left outside here as a home is alright!

Scraps from their meals,
Lobsters and veals!
Sir, can you spare some hundred-dollar bills?
Oh, it is swell,
Here where I dwell!
I am the hobo of Beverly Hills!

While maids get payed at a rate of enslavement,
I live in bliss on this gold-plated pavement!
Head on down to the town charity bin,
Plenty of ball gowns to wear are within!
Life is a farce! Lots of laughs as a peasant,
Fishing cigars from the gutters? Most pleasant!
I make a living from discarded shares
Oh, what luck these folk are all billionaires!

Snack on old quails,
Wear coat-n-tails!
Only 'good cause' to add into their wills!
Couch full of holes,
Bless their rich souls!
I am the hobo of Beverly Hills!

Life's full of luxury, gusto and thrills,
For I'm the hobo of Beverly Hills!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/09/05 at 10:38 pm

Red Scar On The Back

http://users.esc.net.au/~oca/Aboriginal_Elder.JPG

From the tight chin of revered black skin clings a thinning white beard
Peers austerely at the sights, fingers spin a slender, light spear 
Elder boldly holds his stance, stroking broken wind with old hands
Patiently gazes over waves of golden sands, now cold lands
Wizened eyes sunken into crevasses of an ancient face
Invasion razed and desecrated this place of ancient race 
Generations of history twisting, furling about his fists
Kissed by the wind, this is his mystical world to reminisce
Remembers wisdom parted and passed from past fathers to sons
Before the coming of white bastards blasting thunder from guns
Forty thousand years of culture ruptured by the foul vultures
Future agriculture ventures would leave his land in sutures
Elder perches on his knoll watching besmirchment of pure soil
Scratches etched through stretches of earth, catchments, ridges, all spoilt
What was once a wondrous, stunning sunny space lived in humbly
Has been shunted, replaced, disgraced, now the whole place is crumbling
Glaring rays of sun bear down, tearing the last of barren ground
Blaring brown and bare, disparaged air howling a savage sound
Ravaged now, beyond repair. Elder stares out afar to black.
At the shreds of deadened land marred like a red scar on the back. 

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/17/05 at 6:07 am

Blood On The Carpet And In The Closet

http://www.fnal.gov/orgs/gsa/calendar/halloween/haunted-house-1.jpg

*drip*

Caustic tears carve rivulets with a nihilistic sear
Our domestic sphere is infested by a septic fear
Darkness crept in here, swept love aside into dusted past
Breathless leering rests in our chests, a net of loss is cast

*drip*

Death watches and laughs, peers through frosted glass as we erode
Our rusting hearts slowly bust apart, truth is a lost code
Just loaded guns heating up from the sun, waiting to fire
Skating thin ice on iron blades of white secrets and lies

*drip*

Hating the ire, but still playing this game poker-faced
Our dank house of cards choked the ace, became joker-laced
Soaked in angst, this place has now broken to thousands of shards
Doused in shame, our scowling hardens as we howl to the gods

*drip*

Blood on the carpet and in the closet, blood on the rugs
Fog and mud trodden through the apartment, sodden with drugs
Ugly and marred from the floorboards to the ceiling above
Blood runs thicker than water... but clots our feelings of love.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/17/05 at 10:48 pm

Here's my English Extension II Major Work. I spent a month writing 'Soiree' and half of 'Night Scythe', then crammed on my mum's work computer for about 20 hours straight to get the rest of the poems done on time to be sent off. So alot of this is cringeworthingly bad.

X

Commandment
I) The Heathens
Prayers of a TV evangelist
Praise for an IQ vainglorious

II) The Materialists
Remote control
Gun control

III) The Blasphemers
Euphemism
Shameful Blame His Name Game

IV) The Asabbatarians
Now is Never
Pleasure, Leisure, Empty Treasure

V) Ivvenerates
Mature
Scapegoats for Black Sheep

VI) The Murderers
White Knight
Night Scythe

VII) The Cheaters
Soiree
Solicit

VIII) The Thieves
Virgin
Slut

IX) The Liars
A Clever Rhyme Of Subreption Told In Court
Innocent After Proven Wealthy

X) The Insatiable
Loveless

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/17/05 at 10:49 pm

WARNING: Coarse language

Prayers of a TV Evangelist

Foul TV, which art so heathen,
Shallow be thy game.
Your sitcom bunk:
Our swill of junk,
A curse that is all drivel.
Grievous news rates: ‘Israelis Dead.’
And keep giving us our ‘Friends’,
As we don’t have close pals, kin or friendship.
Give us lots of titillation,
And condition us, the people,
So ‘The Simpsons’ fun hour makes God’s stories a bore.
Power endeavour?
I’m in.

If I sleep on a bunk with ten rancid bagels, but watch no fluff, I am only a lounging bum with my games of pinball.
If I have to lift up off my seat, just to gather plates festering with foliage, and if I waste time from Mum’s hounderin’, and can’t watch fluff, I am huffing.
If I live with a gross mess on the floor and contend all my buddies on new games, but watch no fluff, I pain, suff’ring.

Fluff’s engaging. Fluff is fine.
It won’t contemn me. It has hot shows and draws a crowd.
It shows chicks nude, no need for stealth peeking.
It has got cheesy free Manga, with heaps of records and songs.
Fluff is not just light from TV, but the noises that come, too.
It always projects old chestnuts. Always bleeps all those cursing jeers.
Fluff never stales, for when getting up to pee from my seat, there will be ads-
TV’s neat gilt.
When faring college, you’ll mill class away.
For these shows are art and the Fluff we see is art.
After relaxing once, we experts could sit for years.

Confined to the wild, I walked in the wild, did sport in the wild, with seasons of the wild. Once I attained a screen, I thought wild, fresh play confined me.
Now we see lots of war destruction, a din of terror.
Soon we shall see ‘Place that Face’.
Now my shows have Bart, soon I’ll follow Scully, Steven Urkel and Sly Stallone.
And our TVs maintain lame soaps and Fluff.
But the latest to please, is Fluff.


Praise For An IQ Vainglorious

I’m an idol who bridles
The tides with my title
My lines are so pious
My rhymes are divine ones
An icon who strikes
Look-a-likes with my lightning
A deity’s gaiety
All displayed through writing

You munch on your lunch
Of your plum-flavoured gum
And try solving that pondersome
Sum: one plus one
Then you plop your humungous
Fat rump on the john
As your tongue licks the thumb
That’s fresh from your wet bum

You’re just scum who this young
Man finds stunningly monged
Oh how cunning your jumpsuit
Is coming undone
Soon I’ll slump on your bunk
With a bottle of rum
And get fudgeed by your mum
Who is utterly drunk


Yeah you dumb stupid lummox
These puns got you flummoxed
A runt from your stunted
Left arm to your stomachs
This numbskull performance
A stunt to be comic?
Well done, you could amuse
A mob with that conduct!

For me, can there be
A peer genius who’s breathing
Today well I say
That’s a nay Like a ray
I can see that indeed
I’m unique in my speech
You defy this but sigh
As my wry replies fly

Well I do know guys rued
This IQ: two-nine-two
A sly dude who jives lewd
As I choose to fry you
Some cry ‘Boo’ to my tunes
But I view their lies through
And jibe new reply-goofs
To slice grooves in white goons

If the best man at jesting
Is questioned or pestered
You guessed it this Basilisk’s
Hissing commences
A Hessian bag wrestling
Your mass to a restroom
Some testing through sessions
Of submission lessons

Invest in a wish-well
That flushes confessions
From dissing delinquents
Who’ve listed opinions
Positioned to kiss
The fresh piss in the cistern
If this try dismisses
A precise assessment

My conquest is construing
Contorted confusion
Consumed by conducing
Convulsive contusions
Conscious does congeal
To conceal the contrived things
Conniving, conceited
Condors do confided in

No contest from congress
To confessing convicts
I conceive these concocted
Constructive conflicts
And contradict contending
Conspectus concepts
Incompetent condoning
Constrains lose context

You hate my innate
Skills creating pure greatness
With pages of sage words
That age as if weightless
My body of post-modern
Buds bloom in wads
They’re adored by most artists
From blood of the gods

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/17/05 at 10:51 pm

WARNING: Coarse language

Remote Control

You
Remote
Our remote
You help us all
With your great power
An enigmatic force
A magical occurence
As we each hold you in our hands
And you deliver to us purpose
In the way you light up our lives each time
A sacred object that we cherish closely
We all hold you dear to our hearts through daily life
And are unable to go on when you disappear
Your vast mysteries we may never fully understand
Such as where you go whenever you choose to vanish away
And how grateful we are upon finding you when you next appear
Your power is one above us all, we mere mortals of the TV
So we salute you, O great remote control and offer you all our thanks
For without your guiding ray of hope in our bleak lives we would be nothing.


Gun Control

If I go tomorrow
I will throw raging blows
My death No when I go
For new vacation clothes
From the States to the gates
Of that Great British Bristol
Can’t wait to uptake
Calibrating my pistol

Riled from trials?
Nine missiles will get piled
In my filed-off child
And then I’ll start to dial
There’s no fun like two nuns
Tryin’ to run from your gun
My own son whom no-one
Has out-spun once they’re stunned

Who needs friends when my Sten
Always wins me my stance
On events once it lands
In my hands from my pants
And it bends all these men
To listen in a trance
To the ends I’ll dispense
If those dunces don’t dance

Yeah I love it like chocolate
From stock to the docket
You mock it or knock it
Untucked from my pocket
I’ll lock it and cock it
And sock out these rockets
Your blockhead soon fudgeed up
Your guts spilled in buckets

My Uzi’s are beauties
My Mausers are wowsers
My Luger kills cougars
Pulled out from my trousers
Two Magnums I packed ‘em
Like Colts from my belt
And my Gatling gets rattling
Wherever I’m battling

Pack heat as a feature
Like mullet-styled fleece
I won’t cease til I bleed
From my gullet deceased
If I’m teased I will pull it
Cull sheesh with a squeeze
Called extreme…
But I’d take a bullet for my piece.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/17/05 at 10:53 pm

WARNING: Coarse language

Euphemism

Gawd

Jeez

Cripes

Sheesh

Golly

Darn

Gee

Crikey

Dash

Heck

Bajeezuz

Gosh


Shameful Blame His Name Game

There’s a place that’s called hell
With no trace of goodwill
Just like prison it’s miserable
Base like a jail
And when equally evil
Not eager for legal rules
Ether diseases all
Breathing skills lethally

See this MC who just
Breathes so freely
And I ease through these beats
And just be really breezy
Believe me you’ll grieve
Once I leave here feverously
Jesus, how easy
Are these written faeces

God damn this exam
Hell my hand has just cramped
And my plan for my pen
To get ten pages jammed
No revamping my frenzy
Of ambience stands-still
What’s happened is slanderin’
The Man as the vandal 

I’m stuck in a rut
As I’m tryin’ to scribe
I’m as fudgeed as a slut
Who is lyin’ on her side
So I duck my butt down
While I’m writing this rhyme
Cuz I’ll probably get struck down
By lightning this time

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/17/05 at 10:55 pm

Now is Never

dank gloom blankets the room
a synthetic glare
sears raw eyes
plays across pallid parchment skin
insomnia
shadows skitter across ceilings
fall motionless at a glance
rickety digits attack
the keyboard
clickity
clickity
clackity
clack.
throbbing pulsing ache
kneaded flesh massage
pain surrogates pain as the dark of
another sunday night
slithers into the mind
coils about the senses and
constricts the subconscious like a clawed fist
squeeeeeeeze.
a slap of guilt
a surge of adrenalin
a fresh hit of caffeine
hurry now
no time for rest
deadline on monday
tomorrow
and it’s already tomorrow in tokyo.
clackity
clackity
clickity
click.
eyes scream silently into the
nothing
the shrieks of the mind crying out in protest
get tangled in coils
throttled away
he is etched into a cold metallic seat
carved, engraved as one.
mistake number twelve
profanity number twelve
a  reluctant
yet ritualistic glance
at the grandfather clock
overseeing the masochistic scenario
that has been played time and time before
and shall play time and time again.
tippity
tippity
tappity
tap.
squeeeeeeeze.
tappity
tappity
tippity
tip.
slumping spine straightened
against the metallic rack
of tortuous comfort
another shadow skitters by, taunting
come now
you need to finish
love the pain
love the fatigue
you are mine now
and I want to play with you
manipulate you
for now and evermore
this night is not yours to work
but mine.
squeeeeeeeze.
nausea
must keep on typing
and typing
and typing
ad nauseum.
deadline tomorrow
and the tomorrow to come
no time now
to think of working harder before
as before is now
and now is tomorrow.
bright synthetic glare
sears raw eyes
plays across pallid parchment skin
exhaustion
as shadows skitter across his face
dancing upon ghostly flesh
a net of gloom cast across this worker
of yesterday,
tomorrow,
and of never.
grandfather clock sighs into the
nothing.
clackity
tappity
snap-
finished.
now the next deadline
for another monday
another tomorrow
even though tomorrow is yesterday
and now is never.
squeeeeeeeze.


Pleasure, Leisure, Empty Treasure

A wonderful Sunday
So fun-filled with gun play
And someday we’ll unveil
Our club maybe Monday
We’re roaming the streets
All my homeys and peeps
With loud poems of beating
Our foes, those foul creeps

Irritate all our enemies
Des’crate all their semi-D’s
Paintballs and cocktails
And prank calls and mock tales
Then hide several live grenades
Right in a driveway
Then light petrol fires propane
Brightly just skive away.

Time for some leisure,
Time for some pleasure,
Rifle through purses
For cursed hidden treasure.
Explore the back alleys
Looking to pick a fight
Just for our black tally
Bookings of biffs at night

From sunrise to sunset
These Sundays: our concert
A friend or stray bloke and
You spend the day joking
A day to explore
And a day you can search
Who would stay there indoors
And just pray in a church?

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/17/05 at 10:57 pm

WARNING: Coarse language

Mature

Oh come on, you’re so old fashioned Mum
Everyone wears them baggy nowadays
Lighten up, don’t look so glum
You’re being slack, Dad, I need a raise
My friend’s dad gives him twice my pocket money
Oh come on, don’t be so tight
No, I’m not ‘trying to be funny’
I said I’ll be back at around midnight
So stop worrying and go to bed
I’m sick of your stupid rules, they suck
When will you get it into your head
That I’m not a kid anymore, so go and get fudgeed.


Scapegoats for Black Sheep

I would like a gentle, quiet type of parental guidance.
This sentimental mental centre, I’m just sick and tired of.
They’re bent on venting silence through violence, riots and fighting.
The events of life make man and wife divide their alliance.

Now I’d like another mother, mine is rather a bother.
She just smothers us to cover up for our loveless father.
Never hesitant giving this kid evanescent presents.
Masking our destitute residency, peasant’s existence.

Distant hugs and listless kisses during ex-husband’s visits.
Piercing the fissures of his six mistresses was his business.
I dismiss my blissful chrysalis of childhood innocence,
Instead pity this abysmal, dismal, miserable sheesh.

I sketched swastikas obsessively to transmit to Hitler.
Sixteen incidents of malicious attempts to get slit wrists.
Kids chickened out whilst checking out my victimless hit list.
“A kitchen knife? Which bitch will I butcher alive with this?”

Next was cross-dressing in plastic breasts and big sister’s knickers.
A jester messing-up for friends’ acceptance, laughs and snickers.
This sick defense mechanism twisted our protagonist.
Possibly his restless infancy is the catalyst.

It’s blatantly apparent that this lad’s parents are to blame.
They’re the pair bearing, preparing and rearing him in their name.
Merited with the caring and faring him to bare their fame.
Yeah, how dare those blaring air-heads nurture that tyke like a game.

Arrogantly tearing his poor life up there, we fear he’s maimed.
I hear they’ve rarely done errands ever since their marriage shamed.
Where is an urchin-like person expected to turn for aid,
When the tainted barely-there parents have their brains burned; decayed?

You suckers mucked it up enough, you cockheads should just rack off.
You come flocking at cliff rocks when I’ve chucked a bulging sack off,
But your concerns are just boxed up under lock as I muck up.
It’s a mockery to tuck me in but duck my pain and block it.

You folk got a broken home with closed doors from their loco wars.
More torn throats and gore coating the floor with raw sores soaking gauze.
Corporates in lawcourts with claws out, spouting clauses, shouts and roars.
Drowning my sorrows with whores? Maw and Paw are now the cause.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/17/05 at 10:59 pm

WARNING: Mature themes, coarse language.

White Knight

He rectifies those evil men who have erred,
The ladies all find him quite fond.
He leaves all those wrongdoers shaken, not stirred.
This hero’s name is Bond, James Bond.

Our fair land was once in terrible mayhem,
No hatchet were we buryin’.
Those Chinese dragons, our hero did slay them,
Our pure land remained Aryan.

He then abolished all wicked Black Magic,
And proudly rang our victory bell.
Those impious foes claimed their deaths were tragic,
Condemning our Kindly Knight’s Knell.

He boldly fights enemies, evil deterred,
With this lad, girls wish to abscond.
He leaves all those lawbreakers shaken, not stirred.
This hero’s name is Bond, James Bond.

When the adversary surrendered their swords,
They asked why Bond kept killing them.
Those Pakis say that he murdered in cold blood.
(That’s because they’re reptilian.)

Our folk fund his weapons of mass affliction,
Poisonous toxins and venoms.
We all love to see homicidal action,
As heroes embody we humans.

A legendary man who is not seen or heard,
His pistol a magical wand.
He leaves all those lawbreakers shaken, not stirred.
This hero’s name is Bond, James Bond.


Night Scythe

I am plainly the nastiest angel of death
Slowly strangling your breath with a tangled-up tress.
With a chainsaw your chest is a mangled-up mess.
I am strangely obsessed dealing pain to you? Yes.

You provoked this thick rope to start choking your throat
So your vocal chords broke and your coattails were soaked
By your smoke-coloured puke and a flow of red goop.
All the jokes of this loco, mad bloke are rebuked.

A Grim Reaper impeding your breathing by squeezing
Obscenely serene as I sweep through the deep and
You bleed crimson streams like you’ve leaked from the seams then
Lay heaped in the streetlight just reeking, deceased.

I’ll attack you by snatching an axe from my jacket
And hacking your maculate ass a new crack, then
I’ll snap off your neck just to tack it on backwards
And slap both your crap-filled cloacas, you bastard.

I’ll viciously slit both your wrists with a Schick blade
The fissures will viscously spit forth your gizzards
In rivers, then strips of you innards will split up
And rip, dripping quickly for minutes with sheesh.

Then I’ll hire an iron to fry out your eyes so
You’re whining and crying out blinded all whilst I’m
Igniting alight your attire with fire and tying
You high from a sky-scraping viaduct.

Hell, I’m so ill that I’ve dealt with the stealthiest
Wealthiest billionaire villains in jail and I’ve
Still got a relish for drilling your skull as you
Yell from the feel of your spilled cerebellum.

Once I got to the top of hip-hop I was shocked
When some blockheaded punks went and hopped on my yacht
So I shot up those rotters and chopped them right up
I’m red hot and I’m not going to stop killing cops.

Yeah damn right I will slice out your eyes with my knives
And then tie them to bystand you tryin’ to survive.
I’ll then chine your insides like a lion who’s dining.
The finest of brine-seasoned wine toasts your dying.

I’m a knight shining whitest and brightest at night,
I delight in your righteous demise out of spite.
Though you bite and you fight in a plight for your life,
Soon you’re quiet from the might of my tightly gripped scythe.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/17/05 at 11:13 pm

WARNING: Sexual references, coarse language.

Soiree

shy salutation
suave sally
smiling?
success.

seven sinful street
sumptuous supper
succulent salmi
satiated, satisfied
sugary savouries syrupy sweets,
saccharine.

secluded sanctum
scented saffron salsillas
salient sky
sienna solstice
shimmering stars
serene scenery
secret.

salubrious seraph
sanguine sheen
saintly.
sonatas
special sentient sonnets
sparkling soiree
surreal, sempiternal, sibyllic
spellbinding splendour
sigh.

spumous soapy spa
soaking, sponging
swanlike svelte
soothing sauna
somatic.

splurging, spoiling
sleek, smooth suede
silky simal
satin sheets
sprucely soignee
snuggling
spousal scruples?
sapphires.
stirring spritzers
sipping saki
shandy seidels
swilling schnapps……
                      swigging scotch……
                                          sculling spirits……
                                                            sozzled souse.


salsa                samba
stumbled sottish serenading saraband
soft sericeous  swarthy suntanned skin
sensual seditious stimulating sensation
squealing squirming squeezing
staccato seisms
saucy, steamy
scintillating seduction
sculpted, slender, supple
slanderously scandalous
sagaciously salacious
symbiotic sweltering
scalding  scorching
simmering sizzling
sexual saturation
squalid sordid
sofa siesta
saturnalia




splayed spread                                      spliced scissure
stiffening, swollen                               sinuous shaft
  sessions, situations,                          sickening scenarios
   stilettos, saddles,                           sadistic spanking
    slutty schoolgirl                           scholastic statutory 
     sapphic slut                             solicited slave
      sweaty shagging                   sphincter spelunking
       soixante-neuf strains           saliva surfeit
        slick, sebaceous,             seeping secretions
         slimy, sticky,                soggy spunk
          silicious smegma        silvery semen 
           sucked, swallowed, stomach slathered
            synchronic screams, sequent segue
             seedy seraglio. sprawled spent.

satirically satyrical.

seethe.
sarcastic, sardonic
scornful spurn,
scurrilous smirk,
scathing sneer,
scheme.

supercilious, saliferous,
spurious sorceress
snide, sour,
savage succubus
smooch.

soup, soporifics,
suddenly somnific
shudder
swirling, swaying, swooning,
soundless sinking
sleepless slumber
sedated,      supine.

smouldering smoke
sinister semblance
silent soliloquy
slithering,
serpentine,
snake.
ssssssss.

slashing
slicing,  slitting,  stabbing
scimitars, sabres,       swords, spears
spasm, spatter                   
spurting serum
                    scarlet sinew
suffocate, suffer       sullen, sallow
sharpened steel spikes
stigmata.


stillness.
sorrow.
stone shrine,
sepulchre shroud,
spiritual sermon: 
sorry syllables. 


Solicit

I once saw quite a gorgeous young whore on a corner
We tore to a sauna to form our own porno.
Indeed we both reeled from just being so gleesome,
So, feeling in heat we completed a threesome.   

Beginning to sink into silky white linen
And swimming in milk with light pinks of my women
A gradual potion of sexual motions
Perpetual ocean of sensual lotions

Once I bust and shoot, I muster loot
Next I’ll lust for cute, younger, busty beauts.
In my hustler suit, I can trust in hoots.
Hell, it’s just a root with some prostitutes.

The old woman’s scolding me, a room doorman fuming.
I’m told off like something walled-up from her cold booming.
Just because the gold from my wallet was sold for my ‘plumbing’.
So I folded! I’m human and my moulting pole needed something!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/17/05 at 11:15 pm

Virgin

Well, hell-o!
Who might you be, handsome?
What a cute name.
Where are you going tonight, cutie?
Why… don’t you want to stay here with me?
How nice of you!
I can see we were made to be together.
Are they your friends over there?
Did they send you over to me?
Well, forget them for the moment.
It’s just you and me, cutie.
I like you pants.
How would I go about getting into them?
Oh come on, don’t go!
It’s just you and me here, cutie.
No-one else.
Look how beautiful I am,
So smooth and shiny.
I know you want me.
You can’t wait to get your hands on me.
Let’s go back to your place together.
Then you can enjoy me
For as long as you want.
What’s the matter?
You look nervous.
There’s nothing wrong, cutie.
Just slip me in your pocket
And we can go.
You don’t want to let down your friends, do you?
No-one likes to hang out with a wimp.
You’re not a wimp, are you?
Well go on then,
Just hold onto me, cutie,
And we can run away together.
That’s it, just put your hands around me,
Come on now…you’re stalling.
Maybe you aren’t as big a man as I took you for.
Your cool friends knew you would chicken out,
Knew you’d be too pussy to take me.
No,
No if you want to go,
Go.
What was that?
I’ve changed your mind?
Oh yes, of course,
You’ve changed your mind.
Well then, I’m ready when you are.
Let’s do this.
That’s the way,
Take me in your hand.
Oh yes,
Just like that.
Don’t be scared,
You’re doing so well!
Now slip me down
Down
Down there…
Just a little further…
You did it, cutie!
I’m so proud,
Aren’t you proud?
Don’t be silly!
Why would you want to put me back now?
We’ve only just got acquainted,
And the bulge in your pocket says you’re pleased to have me.
Your friends disappeared?
Don’t worry about that,
We don’t need them,
Just walk out and take me with you.
What do you mean this was all a mistake?
You’re going to take me back?
Oh dear, that’s too bad, cutie.
There appear be to people around now.
Lots of people.
And gosh, lots of them are looking at you.
Too late now, cutie.
No time to undo what you’ve done.
You have to run, cutie.
You have to run.
Do you really think they’ll listen to you?
Do you really think anyone will believe I tricked you?
Don’t be stupid.
They don’t care for you.
They only care for themselves,
So let’s run away, cutie.
And if you get bored with me,
You can always go and get another.
And another.
Quit being such a wimp.
You’ve got to keep taking,
Taking more,
Because it’s cool, cutie.
It’s fun and these people,
These people deserve it,
They don’t care that they have while you don’t.
But I care.
We care.
Take us and we will make you cool.
No-one else.
We will make you happy forever.
Now RUN.


Slut

I’m insane in the brain
With a mania for robbing
I feigned spinal pain
To gain pay from health cover
A mercenary passing
A vase from my arse
I stole narcotic grasses
From larceny class

Cuz the deal is that stealing’s
A skill that brings yield
You can peel frozen veal
From its seal for a meal
Or quite quickly and slickly
Try tricking Mcbuttheads,
With pickpocket nicking
Of thickshakes for kicks then

No beef in just thieving
Proceeds up my sleeve
And then leaving employees
To weep and to grieve
If no bolts put a halt
To my goal to keep holding
Their gold as I stroll
From their vault it’s their fault

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/17/05 at 11:17 pm

WARNING: Coarse language

A Clever Rhyme Of Subreption Told In Court

Dishonourable Judge Malversation presiding, all remain seated.
On which station would you prefer to have this episode transmitted?
No legal obligation to give eyewitness accounts on murder.
Order in the court… would you like a hotdog, a pie or a burger?
The court recognises the first expert witness, Dr Subreption.
Believe us, it will be hearsay if their lawyer suspects corruption.
Everyone has the right to suppress certain incriminating facts.
As if it will result in innocent people being labeled crooks.
Remember that they only rule guilty beyond reasonable doubt.
Fake witnesses’ testimonies are always taken into account.
Adjournments are called after every new addition of evidence,
Letting the plaintiff and defendant rehearse their final performance.
Seated at the stand, a paradoxymoron like ‘juror’s diction’.
Exhibit P: the urine sample from Year 8 which passed inspection.
When asked if judge or jury wields more influence, I say the latter.
Isn’t ‘perjury’ committed whilst involving the last four letters?
Tarradiddles, little white lies and fibbing are all part of the game.
No pursuit for justice is fun viewing without a few facts feigned.
Every Hypocritic Oath on The Bible stains the cover filthy.
So if truth sets you free, will you bear false witness if your wife killed me?
So if truth sets you free, what do you want from others when you’re guilty?


Innocent After Proven Wealthy

I’ll dial you a lawyer,
And file you a lawsuit,
Compile a new wardrobe,
And smile in the courtroom,

All cuz I’m set off,
As those toffs get ticked off,
From the system when, shock!
This fudger is let off.

Well, the changed verdict came,
From my payed arbitrators. 
So dang, they arraign,
But don’t hang this bad traitor.

Who had thought that the courts,
Simply fought crime for nought?
They’ve been tought to get bought out,
But not to get caught out.


The Insatiable

Each day I say my way I love it
I’ve played Hades’ charade to cover
Greys and fading away to nothing,
Above all is love, this I covet.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/19/05 at 12:27 am

Broken Dreams

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/Angelcrying.jpg

Lamenting cries of an inanimate, tormented child
Innocent eyes dry up, icing over fermented smiles
Hide behind the guise of life’s nightmarish shouts of silence
Tiny eyelids, fragile hymens blinding out the violence

Young weary cherub presses to my chest and nestles there
Expression bare as I caress her tress of messy hair
Her heartbeat quivers, shivers through her ribcage like a drum
Wept rivers give her livid skin a vivid shade of numb

I hush this angel, brushing off her lush gossamer strands
And cushion her to sleep, clutching her touch of frost, soft hands
Just rest now, precious, for when you're asleep: what dreams may come
No stresses teeming from our torn and weeping, spleening mum.

Ice spreads and sadness shreds your insides at the sight of dad
You tread light through bloodshed, ravaged by such mad fright and dread
At night in bed is your escape from this place of strayed love
Sleep tight instead, and let the day's pain fade away, my dove

I'll serenade you off into a fairyland of joy
A place devoid of terror and it's where hate can't destroy
That ray of hope that pervades through all of the rape and pain
Decaying all the shame so you're never afraid again

That inner shimmer that's glinting from your face as you lay
Your grinning glimmers and raises all bane and angst away
Sleep on, angel. Your dreams for me are an enticing spell
Before the dawn arrives for another sunrise in hell

Baby, invite the smoke of your nightmind to cloak the screams
I’m entwined in vines of a broken home… your broken dreams. 

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Rob on 09/22/05 at 11:39 pm

Jesus titty-fudgeing Christ Luke. :o

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Roberto Sanchez on 09/23/05 at 4:55 pm

I didn't know there was any other "Rob" on this website...

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: RGC3 on 09/23/05 at 5:02 pm

Well, my name is "Rob." (Robert Christenson.)

Nice music, Luke, I enjoyed scrolling down the pages and venturing to all the different pages for about an hour just to realize I didn't get a chance to read any of them. :-\\

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: RGC3 on 09/24/05 at 1:16 pm

Well, always glad to be one step higher than your friends, Brattoni. :D

And my signature; take it for what it's worth. ;) ::)

Is the posting of "muthafudgea" prohibited or something?

Because if it is, consider taking that cartoon avatar of yours down. :o




Come on, it's all good. ;D 8)

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/25/05 at 11:59 pm

Year 10 T-shirt slogans:

NO THIN CHICKS

THAT'S NOT A GUN IN MY POCKET

ASSUME THE POSITION

I WOULDN'T SCREW YOU IF YOU WERE THE LAST SHEEP ON EARTH

6GB MAMMARY DRIVE

I LIVE AT HOME WITH MY PARENTS

SUCK ME, BEAUTIFUL

I'M ONLY HITTING ON YOU CUZ I'M OUT OF VASELINE

IT'S ALIVE!

CALL ME OEDIPUS, I'M IN LOVE WITH YOUR MUM.

I'M LUKE BRATTONI. WHAT'S YOUR EXCUSE?

CLEAVAGE

WILL THAT BE A 6-INCH OR A FOOTLONG?

IMMACULATE TO EJECULATE

MY OTHER SHIRT'S GUCCI

YOUR CAR OR MINE?

CRAVIN' SHAVEN

DIAMONDS, HEARTS,
STRIP CLUBS, SPADING.

ARE YOU LEGAL YET?

I'VE GOT A SPARE 40 SECONDS

SISTERMATIC

NUNS HAVE GREAT SECTS

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/26/05 at 12:26 am

WARNING: Some coarse language, content may offend.

USA

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/Bush.jpg

Hey Americans, are you still using silk
Handkerchiefs to mop your tears from spilt milk?
You spoilt arrogant, wealthy, selfish perverts.
September eleven was no tragedy; you deserved it!

Your trauma and agony only mirrors the fact,
You're so accustomed to living free, that you've been distracted
From the poverty stricken nations rent by disease,
Which you censor out, though revel in the birds and the bees.

You blame God for all pain in the world, hate and terror.
You want the cause? Stick your f***ing head in front of a mirror!
It's all your fault, you spoilt greedy SOBs probably know it,
But feel so violated that you swallow it and don't show it.

For decades USA has robbed third world countries of their soil
Exploitation, manipulation for the sake of some oil.
But after tolerating you pigs polluting the whole globe,
They have opened their eyes and have started to question and probe.

'Why do we install a McDonald's that just helps our employment,
When all the profit goes back to the US for their enjoyment?'
Industry worth trillions spending billions on their trade,
While by their millions Africans die from starvation or AIDS.

You wept when a mere three thousand Americans cherished,
Yet 1-5-5-2-0-0 killed in Hiroshima aren't cherished.
The Twin Tower victims lived their whole lives with cigars, cars and wine.
You mourn them, but not kids blown up on your exported landmines?

Screw you America! White pimp daddies and slutty girls.
You're so generic in the way you take hate out on the world.
Government's septic- oh, that George Bush jsut makes me want to hurl!
I'll massage my arse with your stars and wipe my white butt with your stripes.

Let's all put some perspective onto the term terrorism,
Saddam: guilty til proven guilty so Iraq is imprisoned.
Then it's out with Weapons of Destruction to blast the bastards,
Just as fast, you'll lock up the fleeing refugees afterwards!

The scrawny kid took on the bully for what he believed,
Against the odds managed to bruise the ego of the big cheese,
Then the bully thought he was tops not collapsing under stress,
Osama had the balls taking on the big guns, biased press!

Afghanistan's holy soil had been trespassed on,
Like protected Native Americans' land- do you catch on?
But look who's laughing now instead of cowering in fear,
Who has the whole world been looking for, now, for over a year?

I thought Americans were supposed to be the ultimate race,
Well look who has had their own crap thrown back into their face?
How dare you ignorant pigs only mourn losses of your own,
When you're the reason a billion children are still skin and bone!

Do us a favour, open your blubbery, bloodshot eyes
If you're too stupid to have worked it out, everyone dies.
So just show respect to other peoples who have gone on to heaven,
The weeping charade's over, now get the hell over nine-eleven.

It isn't a legitimate reason to attack Iraq,
Oil is the only reason your damn country gives a stuff.
Africa's whole GNI is worth less than Microsoft.
Asian child labour pays, per sixty Nike shoes, half a buck.

So what gives you Americans the right to police the world?
When your nuclear missiles are embedded with rubies and pearls?
When your own kids are so screwed up they shoot classmates for attention,
When killing homosexuals gets you just ten years of detention,

When a quick buck is less expendable than a human life,
When there's now no longer such a thing as a man and his wife,
When you eat more in one day than Indians eat in a week,
When your girls bitch over clothes, when others aren't allowed to speak,

When you can murder humans just cause they haven't been through birth,
When your viral culture has infected all ends of the Earth.
I spit on the White House, spit on the Statue of Liberty,
I spit on millionaires who haven't even started puberty,

I spit on your fur fashion and teeny music industry,
I spit on Yankees so stupid that they're repeating history.
Just remember Vietnam when you polish and load your pistol,
And the fact that President Bush needs help to chew a pretzel.

Pity for us, PM John Howard is 'helping out' Australia,
Wrapping his flaccid lips over your leader's genitalia.
Your men die after living entire lives of free luxury,
Everyone else withers, yelling "Why don't you give a f*** for me?"

Just turn a blind eye to the world's problems, like you've always done,
Even though your riches could fix all poverty under the sun.
Now I won't bother studying for my HSC,
I'll be recruited for your war by the end of '03.

I used to be anti-war, but now I have changed my belief.
Iraq will kill a few Americans... that seems worth sparing my life.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/29/05 at 3:41 am

WARNING: Content may offend.

Chemo Bobby

http://www.bbc.co.uk/health/images/300/sick_kid1.jpg

Everybody has a hobby
I hang out with Chemo Bobby
He’s little
And brittle
Grew up inside a hospital

B is for his bald head
O is for the operating bed
B & B are his broken bones
And Y’s for yellow skin tones

Has a lot of operations
Sponsored by some kids’ foundations
He'll eat mo'
Placebos
Than anyone else on chemo.

C is for cancer pills
H is for all the hospital bills
E & M are his empty ribs
And O is his organ list

Seems that every gift I buy just
Gives him yet another virus
Bulemia
Lukemia
He aint got much self-esteem, yeah

S is his straining breath
T is his tangoing with death
I & F if he lives past nine
Oh, F, Bobby just flatlined.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/29/05 at 3:45 am

WARNING: Sexual reference.

Halitosis

http://www.dentalhealth.org.uk/faqs/images/10263047730.97425100.jpg

Oh, my tongue is really foul, highly acidic and sour.
When I yawn, everyone around needs a chemical shower.
My forks always melt before any food reaches my mouth.
This reek will seize you by the nostrils and beat ya about.
My teeth are glazed in a greasy film of organic cheese.
So you’d best keep upwind of the breeze when I start to wheeze.
No matter what the time, I always say it’s tooth-hurty
Even reading a nursery rhyme, I still talk dirty.

Yeah, my breath is the absolute grossest.
Aint jealous of whoever walks closest.
From next door, doctor gave my prognosis.
I’m breathing death, I've got halitosis.

Highly noxious with my stink, mouth smells like medical waste.
I’ve got ‘Toxic Hazard’ stickers pasted over my face.
Dentist’s fingers got frostbite, had them surgically replaced.
Perform cunnilingus to get rid of the awful taste.
Parents use me as an ‘ate too many sweets’ parable.
I don’t smoke… but only because my breath is flammable.
Friends often ask “Did you eat a freakin’ skunk for dinner?”
Sacramental wine refused to go in… mouth deemed a sinner.

Yeah, my breath is the absolute grossest.
Aint jealous of whoever walks closest.
From next door, doctor gave my prognosis.
I’m breathing death, I've got halitosis.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/29/05 at 3:50 am

Hum Off Hone

http://www.colostate.edu/Depts/ATRC/quick_start/images/texthelp/homophone.jpg

Urn was pecked
Boar nun bread
Paws along the whey
Maid of lead

Tour into his guts
What a leek
Whirred, of course shun
Eight pairs, all weak

Sheik Djibouti
Kill a beet
Hear Yugo
Eat, roar, meet

Urinal, have a tree
Hay their deer
Eek, all leaving
Heart to here

Jew and die
Counter for
Maiden, tie one
Fetor saw

Knead the dough
Sew it seams
Grizzly bare
Chews your teams

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/02/05 at 2:46 am

Your Numbers Are Up

http://www.top-trendy.com/images/Joker.gif

Black hearts of these devils of gambling and sin
Delinquents who play with a scandalous grin
Sly gambits and wry underhandedness wins
Vile animals cloaked in a camouflage skin
White diamonds now sparkling bright as your prize
Enticed by big bucks, but you've blinded your eyes
Your mind's glowing darkly with chuckles and sighs
Denying how starkly you're entwined in vice
Red clubs have degraded and tainted your soul
Invaded your morals, left jaded as coal
They've stolen your pain but you fade from your whole
You aim now for goals that have shaded your all
Grey spades churn up earth from our cradles to graves
These players decayed into evil, the knaves
Such slaves are depraved in behaviour, deceived
You'll pay when Fate plays out an Ace from his sleeve
You're tokenless, broke now from poker and meth
The smoke of the joker will choke you to death

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/03/05 at 7:42 pm

What Is It That's Up With This Song?

http://www.npr.org/programs/wesun/features/2004/dec/sherlock/silhouette200.jpg

It starts as a tiny misgiving,
Which grows to gargantuan girth.
A phobia so stupid and silly,
That you start to laugh now in mirth.

Your qualms and suspicions grow strong,
Although nothing's actually wrong.
Paranoia lasting too long.
What is it that's up with this song?

Oh, still your mind is acting wary.
Soft murmurs sound cryptic and phantom.
This puzzling conundrum is scary.
It's solution you cannot fathom.

Your qualms and suspicions grow strong,
Although nothing's actually wrong.
Paranoia lasting too long.
What is it that's up with this song?

"Aha!" you shout out in conclusion.
"This song has a fault I'm disclosin'!"
Causing your mind angst and confusion,
Is THIS as your final solution...

Every single sentence here excludes the letter 'e'!
Clever secret hidden deep inside the poetry.
Seemingly perfected, even more clues badger thee,
When the verse ending the piece takes exception, then sprees!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/07/05 at 10:36 pm

WARNING: Sexual reference.

Tastes Like Chicken

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/30/2/3/O/30230539O383229663.jpg

I've had springbok and peacock
And dogs' heads and frogs' legs
And turtle and purple sea star....
They all taste like chicken.
I find that fact frickin'
Unnerving and rather bizarre.

I've had dingo, flamingo
And cats' ears and bats' rears,
And every part of a snake's bod.
They all taste like chicken.
Although finger-lickin'
I find this to be very odd.

Asian restaurants appear to serve up chicken strips,
That taste less like a chicken, more like kitten lips.
And what's with chicken-flavouring in salts and dips?
They taste about as fowl as chicken-flavoured chips!

I've had chipmunk and chopped skunk
Gorilla, chinchilla,
Even tyrannosaurus rex.
They all taste like chicken.
So I aint that sickened
At the prospect of oral sex!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/15/05 at 5:41 am

Infront Of The World Centrefold

http://www.index.hr/indexklub/upload/_evil_girl.jpg

Mistress Existence glitters like a flickering flame
Twisting moths in her fingers, this belligerent dame
A vixen of sexual tricks, body of curves
Hexing perverted wishes with what they deserve
A lustful aura embossed in her dark mascara
Lipgloss which masks a caustic past of horror
Alluring grin, enticing eyes lure you in
Invitingly towards sordid whores- a sin
Which pours within thin black lashes and seeps
Into weeping souls, captured in ravaged sleep
Rapture creeps through hesitation, ever present
Yet the happiness given is so evanescent
Rivers of heavenly scriptures rust to a glassy crust
Littered with husks of rushed passion, now ash and dust
Husbands ensared by this temptress of sensuousness
An empress tearing men bare with empty lust
Undressing infront of the centrefold of the world
Learn your lesson, turn away and don't mess with this girl
Don't fall and be burned, or your lust will consume your whole
Dooming all... close the pages and exhume your soul.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: EmiLoca on 10/16/05 at 11:37 pm


Infront Of The World Centrefold

http://www.index.hr/indexklub/upload/_evil_girl.jpg

Mistress Existence glitters like a flickering flame
Twisting moths in her fingers, this belligerent dame
A vixen of sexual tricks, body of curves
Hexing perverted wishes with what they deserve
A lustful aura embossed in her dark mascara
Lipgloss which masks a caustic past of horror
Alluring grin, enticing eyes lure you in
Invitingly towards sordid whores- a sin
Which pours within thin black lashes and seeps
Into weeping souls, captured in ravaged sleep
Rapture creeps through hesitation, ever present
Yet the happiness given is so evanescent
Rivers of heavenly scriptures rust to a glassy crust
Littered with husks of rushed passion, now ash and dust
Husbands ensared by this temptress of sensuousness
An empress tearing men bare with empty lust
Undressing infront of the centrefold of the world
Learn your lesson, turn away and don't mess with this girl
Don't fall and be burned, or your lust will consume your whole
Dooming all... close the pages and exhume your soul.



I wrote one about you, too. 

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Wolfheart65 on 10/16/05 at 11:56 pm

That's real nice, friend. Can you take up more room with your crap, I mean rap??
For Gawdsake, get cable or a hobby other than polluting the 'net.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/19/05 at 8:48 pm

WARNING: Mature theme, sexual references, content may offend.

Chicken

http://nambla.blog.hr/slike/logo.jpg

This old guy's really into me, a bit obsessed.
I guess it gets quite lonely as a pederast.
He asked me to go out to his old cottage, "Please!"
Where he would whip me up a batch of frottage cheese.

He says that he's content when we just sit and talk.
Except his eyes stay on me like a chickenhawk.
My friends keep saying "Watch it, or that creep'll feel ya."
Is this another instance of ephebophilia?

Your pulse may quicken,
Your blood may thicken,
The thought may sicken,
But I'm his chicken.

The paintings on his walls are all totally kinky.
He eyes me hungrily like I'm a giant twinkie.
He signed me up as a special member of NAMBLA.
He wanted to play "Two-up" but I'm not a gambler.

I'm Agathon to this old man's Euripides.
I'm Alicibiades to his Socrates.
I'm Robert Baldwin Ross to this guy's Oscar Wilde.
I am his ball of lust, I am his lover child.

Your pulse may quicken,
Your blood may thicken,
The thought may sicken,
But I'm his chicken.

I spent the morning nude as he painted my mural.
Our 'intellectual' intercourse turned intercrural.
From C.S.C. to P.I.E. to 'Wonderland',
I'm poster boy for all... just in my underpants.

His camera's clickin',
I'm finger-lickin',
He'll stick his prick in,
Yeah, I'm his chicken.

Your pulse may quicken,
Your blood may thicken,
The thought may sicken,
But I'm his chicken.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/23/05 at 5:19 am

What's In A Name?

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/30/9/4/O/30949763O038880058.jpg

Blossom or Jasmine,
Or Daisy or Vi-o-let.
Poppy or Pansy,
Or Leia or Hy-a-cinth.
Petunia or Fleur,
I would just love to devour.
Petal or Rose? Sure,
If you're named after a flower.

I dated April in April,
Went out with May in May,
Spent all of June with June,
And had a one-night stand with Wednesday.
That time of month?
My dates never last.
I hate getting dumped
When a period has passed.

Would you be famous now if you were called Elaine?
Would your flame burn brighter if you were a Jane? 
It's an arcane paradox of misnomered mayhem.
Sophie's World claims it matters, but what's in a girl's name?

Taylor or Danny,
Or Reese or Cameron.
Sam or Mackenzie,
Or Jack or Shannon.
Jamie or Ashley,
Or Alex or Nicky.
Chris, Jo or Georgie,
Girl? Guy? That one's tricky...

By any other name wouldn't your farts stink the same?
Wouldn't you be just as shamed and make me take the blame?
Wouldn't you still think I'm lame like every other dame?
Has your moniker really shaped who you've became?

Would you be famous now if you were called Elaine?
Would your flame burn brighter if you were a Jane? 
It's an arcane paradox of misnomered mayhem.
Sophie's World claims it matters... but girl, what's in a name?

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/26/05 at 8:18 pm

Farce Side Of The Moon

http://photo.tickle.com/image/32/1/4/O/32147909O100555024.jpg

I would do excellently as a satellite
I'd orbit, trekking through the galaxy all night
Transmit encryptions that old academics write
To extraterrestrial planets far and wide.

I'll go glidin' with Triton then spin and wheel with Cordelia
Keep it tight with ol' Titan and keep it real with Ophelia
Caliban would befriend and then slumber with Umbriel
I’ll light some pot up with Pan and share the view Ariel

Scorch an aura with Portia, trail Calypso’s ellipses
Unleash horror, Pandora! Watch Callisto’s eclipses
Looks like Puck is starstruck with that newlywed Juliet
With Cresida I’ll ride up past Rosalind’s solar-wind

I must comment how comets use iambic Andromeda
Neptune’s all wet and Mercury abhors his thermometer
Pluto emits gases constantly and they all smell heinous
I’ll steer clear of him… and the debris orbiting Uranus

I would do excellently as a satellite
I'd orbit, trekking through the galaxy all night
Transmit encryptions that old academics write
To extraterrestrial planets far and wide.

When I am finally bored of having just circled and twirled,
I’ll plan a planet party that will be out of this world!

Nice lasagne, Titania. Try some wiener, Despina
Nice regalia, Himalia, you're a natural born Leda
Adrastea, how be ya? Meet my boss, Prometheus
Lysithea, a beer? Happy, Epimetheus?

Nacho cheese, Enceladus? Over heels, Oberon?
Mind the fire, Iapetus. Wipe down Hyperion
Taste how sweet all this Metis, don’t be one-sided, Janus
Shining white from the Tethys, Earth has come along, Atlas'

You enchantress, Miranda. Not as aged as old Phoebe
On your own, Desdemona? No? You came here with Thebe?
Looking super, Europa. Like a sphere, Amalthea
Why you moping Sinope? Who kicked you in the Rhea?

I would do excellently as a satellite
I'd orbit, trekking through the galaxy all night
Transmit encryptions that old academics write
To extraterrestrial planets far and wide.

Am I putting on weight? Cuz I seem to be expanding
And this asteroid cream is starting to feel like branding
Life as a satellite is fun, but way too demanding
I am coming back home now- so prepare for my landing!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/27/05 at 12:08 am

Albino

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/albino.jpg

My skin is the lightest shade of peach
It looks like I always bathe in bleach.
Act black? I spectaculary fail.
Get kicked by cows cuz I look so pail.
Avoid the African embassy,
Cuz I reek of white supremacy.
I retreat to darkness like a vamp,
Cuz I'd get sunburn from my desk lamp.

Barmen think, when they're watching me blink,
"You've had too much drink. Your eyes are pink!"
A connoisseur of fine white wine, oh.
I am a pasty-faced Albino.

Open up an Encyclopedia,
See my photo beside 'anaemia'.
Passport labels my race 'Chalkasian'.
Got fined for 'mellanin evasion'.
Some say I'm putrid, horrid, lurid,
Blanch at my face... like THAT'LL cure it!
Envious of you coloured bastards,
I look plastered in alabaster!

When it's dark I stand out like a spark,
Love my quark cheese spread on Great White shark.
My teeth cost more than horn of rhino,
I am a pasty-faced Albino.

Skin glows bright when I'm out for the night.
Some get frightened, think I'm a sprite.
Don't need cosmetic creams to shine, no.
I am a pasty-faced Albino.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/30/05 at 11:48 pm

WARNING: Coarse language

Lethal Lyricists League Battle Rap #1 vs Black Silence

Down from the outback island, it's Nib Oswald the rookie.
We're gonna hear black silence? ...sheesh, we should be so lucky.
Any rhyme this bitch speaks aint even worth half a dime.
You should quit, geek, what you spit reeks... try your hand as a mime!
Spending your time in elevators to rise up a level.
I'm a wrecking ball, you're a glass house so shouldn't throw pebbles.
Dance with the devil- my hooves will stomp you so you're de-feet-ed.
fudge, man, all your babbled battle raps want to be deleted.
You should be treated well... like sewage water! Hell man, you stink!
How can peeps drink in your words if they're written in sheesh, not ink?
I think you're faker than Anna Nicole-Smith wearing prosthesis.
Your name abbreviates your style perfectly... it's all just BS. 

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/31/05 at 7:55 pm

I Hate You

http://www.generallyawesome.com/store/hate_youS.jpg

I hate you, abhor you,
Censure you, deplore you.
I spurn you, resent you,
Detest you, can't stand you.

I scoff you, despise you,
Eschew you, dislike you.
I shun you, oppose you.
Cuz I really loathe you.

Go make out with a blender turned on high.
Go hammer nails only using your eye.
Go for a dip with sharks that are angered,
After you've jumped in some brambles naked.
Go stand infront of a charging bull's path.
Go take your toaster with you in a bath.
Go throw black paint on a KKK group,
After you've put on a shirt "I love Snoop."

I hate you, abhor you,
Censure you, deplore you.
I spurn you, resent you,
Detest you, can't stand you.

I scoff you, despise you,
Eschew you, dislike you.
I shun you, oppose you.
Cuz I really loathe you.

Go nail your tie to a passenger jet.
Go roll around in a scorpion pit.
Go take a swim in a fresh oil slick,
After you've lit up a torch by the wick.
Go sit yourself on an upside-down stool.
Go high-dive down into an empty pool.
Go tug-of-war forty men with one nipple,
After the other one's got forty people.

I hate you, abhor you,
Censure you, deplore you.
I spurn you, resent you,
Detest you, can't stand you.

I scoff you, despise you,
Eschew you, dislike you.
I shun you, oppose you.
Cuz I really loathe you.

Go ride a trolley down a steep descent.
Go stick your head into some wet cement.
Go spend some time in your laundry drier.
After some cats are dropped in... on fire.
Go take a long walk off of a short pier.
Go hold a foghorn right up to your ear.
Go seat yourself on the nest of fire ants,
After you've poured honey into your pants.

I hate you, abhor you,
Censure you, deplore you.
I spurn you, resent you,
Detest you, can't stand you.

I scoff you, despise you,
Eschew you, dislike you.
I push you and shove you.
...Cuz I really love you.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 11/01/05 at 6:50 pm

Thpeech Imp-p-pediment

http://charm.physics.ucsb.edu/people/hnn/einstein_tongue.jpg

I'm not tho gweat at winguithticth,
For I thound wike I'm ownwy thicth.
Onthtage ith not my ewwement,
'Cauthe I've a thpeech impediment.

Although my voithe ith nithe and cwithp,
It'th hard to thay "I've got a withp!"
I wose my 'l'th and woll my 'r'th.
My tht-tht-thtammer ith a farthe!

The weather forecatht for the week,
Ith thcattered showerth when I thpeak!
Can't dethipher what'th thaid and meant?
I've got a thpeech impediment.

I thwip up at the wowwer wink.
When thick, I thwow up in the think.
I can't thwawwow thothe tongue-twithterth,
They weave my gumth wed with bwithterth!

"She thellth theashellth by the theashore?"
"A weawwy thcawwy wion woar?"
"Unique New York?" ...hey, that one'th fine!
I'll uthe that ath my warm-up wine!

I give thicth thick sheep thwee fwee thwowth?
Wovewey wemon winiment? Gwothe!
Wonder where 'yewwow weather' went...
I've got a thpeech impediment.

Thome thay I'm one gwoovy fewwa,
(Thaid fwom behind an umbwewwa.)
My Weth-Thide Cwew, I wepwethent.
I've got a thpeech impediment.

"Is he deaf with a French accent?"
I've got a thp... thp... g-got a...
I've got a thpeech imp-pedimmm...
I've got a thpeech impediment!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 11/04/05 at 9:10 pm

Ugly

http://www.acclaimstockphotography.com/_gallery/_SM2/0015-0402-1209-3857_SM2.jpg

Mother must have slept with a gargoyle, see.
Bloody hell, man! You're rather u-g-ly!
Father must have been drugged as buggery.
Bloody hell, man! You're rather u-g-ly!
Looks like you are from a menagerie.
Bloody hell, man! You're rather u-g-ly!
Your head has been encrusted fungally.
Bloody hell, man! You're rather u-g-ly!

Your appearance is hideous- you creep!
Man, your own hand pretends to be asleep!
Take one look at you and our eyes burn out,
Dogs hump your leg with all the lights turned down!
Your face defies all cosmetic products,
Matchmakers coupled you with my buttocks!
Like to think that you're a woman magnet?
Your sexual charge is UN-attractive!

Must have pulled a face in the changing wind!
Your fleas flee away from your mangy skin!
Your life is cursed forever, no jokin',
Due to all of those mirrors you've broken!
Bought a suit which matches your paper bag,
Go wash your face with drano on a rag!
Your modelling forms are gathering dust.
My thoughts on your looks are often discussed! (disgust)

Mother must have slept with a gargoyle, see.
Bloody hell, man! You're rather u-g-ly!
Father must have been drugged as buggery.
Bloody hell, man! You're rather u-g-ly!
Looks like you are from a menagerie.
Bloody hell, man! You're rather u-g-ly!
Your head has been encrusted fungally.
Bloody hell, man! You're rather u-g-ly!

Dripping with earwax, thick pus and green drool,
You're from the yellow part of the gene pool!
To say you're a match for a horse's arse,
Is a great insult... to the poor old horse!
Attract dung beetles? You're so gross,
Your folks hired actors for your school photos!
Save a fortune on Halloween outfits,
You look like you have been raised in Auschwitz!

Quasimodo? Man, you're a dead ringer!
Your sole income is from Jerry Springer!
You put the 'ass' back into 'aesthetics',
Even the blind sense your grotesqueness!
It'd take Da Vinci to airbrush you,
A ten foot pole wouldn't even touch you!
Your face has been classed a hazardous sight,
Even Michael Jackson thinks you're a fright!

Mother must have slept with a gargoyle, see.
Bloody hell, man! You're rather u-g-ly!
Father must have been drugged as buggery.
Bloody hell, man! You're rather u-g-ly!
Looks like you are from a menagerie.
Bloody hell, man! You're rather u-g-ly!
Your head has been encrusted fungally.
Bloody hell, man! You're rather u-g-ly!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 11/06/05 at 12:18 am

WARNING: Mature theme

Jack The Ripper

http://www.hotels-london.co.uk/images/tours/2/front-text.jpg

Whilst candle wicks lit up in their brackets flicker
This ghastly figure's slippin' on his black hat, grippin'
A nasty weapon. Itchin' for some acts of slittin'
Skittering through backalleys, yo, it's Jack the Ripper
Claspin' a massive dagger- he'll have you gaspin'
Splatterin' patterns of blood spatter as you're raspin'
His feet pitter-patter, then ZIP! He'll slash your nipples
'Tit for tat' bitch, he'll hack your hips til you're left crippled

Whiplash your neck backwards then bash your lip in
Mad with passion; your gashes drippin and splashes ripplin'
He'll strip a slut, rip her up then gut, slit and cut her
Scattering her battered, tattered bits all up along the gutter
Your heart's a-flutterin' at the mere thought of this nutter
A rotten attacker who's slaughterin' whores as holy martyrs
Such a terrible butcher, wearin' all their guts for garters
As hoards of feral rats swarm to tear apart their carcass

Whilst candle wicks lit up in their brackets flicker
This ghastly figure's slippin' on his black hat, grippin'
A nasty weapon. Itchin' for some acts of slittin'
Skittering through backalleys... yo, it's Jack the Ripper

He's the phantom standin' behind you, pantin'
Pretending the severed head held in his hand is a lantern
All prostitutes who've lost a tooth will get chopped in two
Gargling red froth gutterally as he throttles you
Garotted blue- a grisly vision layin' maimed
On the pavement, slain. Body clotted with bloodstains
Fissures of viscous crimson will viciously issue
From your innards, twisted gizzards... "Miss, here's a tissue."

They say that no man can hold a candle to ya
He'll grab a knife's blade and stab the handle through ya
Some poor unfortunate whore morbidly tortured
A sordidly gored throat's just natural causes
One silent night, a knife will lead to your demise
His violent plight breeding more feeble cries
A highly graphic psychopathic breed of strife
He'll slyly slice twice and watch you bleed from life

Whilst candle wicks lit up in their brackets flicker
This ghastly figure's slippin' on his black hat, grippin'
A nasty weapon. Itchin' for some acts of slittin'
Skittering through backalleys... yo, it's Jack the Ripper

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 11/08/05 at 9:54 pm

WARNING: Coarse language

Lethal Lyricists League Battle Rap #2 vs Young Hov

Hov, you're lucky I prefer to drop my raps wacky instead.
If I came harder then a hole would blast through the back of ya head!
******, you're dead- family's already planned your funeral wake.
Your self-assurance is looking more pissed on than a urinal cake!
Incurably fake- your lines full of tooth-marks cuz they're so bitten!
You're like a kitten spittin' at a cougar, wit' the sheesh that you've written!
Gettin' slaughtered, my vaudeville act hackin' up your black cadaver.
Shovel your gutless body into a hovel... wearing your guts for garters!
Carcass covered in stinkin' garbage- think anyone'll notice the diff?
All your drops die of natural causes, cuz YOU're the one writing the riff!
You're lighting a spliff, tryna make your mouth emissions more dope?
Man, one whiff of your lines and people donate dishes of soap!
You claim I'm bad at all this spraying off? I guess you're right, I'm wrong.
But remember the old saying, Hov... the good die, Young.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 11/10/05 at 9:32 pm

WARNING: Content may offend.

Un-PC

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/36/8/2/O/36824921O678906107.jpg

When you're haggling for a bargain, can't say "10% Off".
And magicians can no longer disappear with a "poof".
You can use 6-out-of-10, but never ever "3/5ths".
And please unwrap every one of your friend's "Indian Gifts".

Hispanic folk in glasses should not be called 'spics in specs'.
And if life throws you "lemons"... please don't film them having sex.
You can't say "frog" or "golliwog", as some may hold a grudge.
And no more villifying Mars employees who "pack fudge".

Talking about African Bees? Avoid "African Queen".
And purchasing "Black Velvet" from Australia is obscene.
Make sure you don't squint at a "chink" or do a lively "jig".
And no, when hunting "bald eagle" you will not need a wig.

Call your friend Stan "Paki"? Keep a watch on an FOB?
Don't mix your whites with coloreds? That is really un-PC!
You steer clear of a gay old time? Despise AC/DC?
Have a fuzzy wuzzy doll? That is really un-PC!

A primate on your verandah? Don't call it a "porch monkey".
And despite some pale noses, don't refer to them as "honky".
Don't double-scan a "barcode" or twist "oreos" in half.
And calling something "Queer" is not always a 'cue' to laugh.

The first time you s.n.i.g.g.e.r. without an 's' will be your last.
And if you suck at fishing, refrain from blurting "half cast".
Although they may look odd, don't try to straighten up "bent cuffs".
Don't say CA's "granola" is a mix of fruit and nuts.

Refrain from calling all Dutch chicks "dykes" as you light-up "fags".
What's black and white and red all over? Newspapers... not "rags".
Don't go and spend a fortune to ride "BMW"s.
And gnawing on a cushion should not be cause for abuse.

Call your friend Stan "Paki"? Keep a watch on an FOB?
Won't wrap towels round your wet hair? That is really un-PC!
You steer clear of a gay old time? Despise AC/DC?
Take off your shoe to smack WASPs? That is really un-PC!

Make sure that you do not purchase from a "non-dairy creamer".
And don't spit on someone even if they are a "flamer".
Although he's male and underage, don't ever call him "boy".
Christmas time should be joyful, not full-up with shouts of "goy".

It's fine to greet somebody, but make sure you don't say "bi".
With "twinkies", "pickaninnies" and "redskinnies", do not try.
Your Asian friend's called "Charlie" and his girlfriend is named "Choong"?
Well, best to give them nicknames or you might not last too long.

Don't ask to have your "sour kraut" shredded up by a cook.
Don't say you love your "chocko lit" or hate the smell of "gook".
We must all strive towards a World Of Peace, if that makes sense.
You must take care with what you say, lest your words cause offense!

Call your friend Stan 'Paki'? Keep a watch on an FOB?
Sick to the stomach from wogs? That is really un-PC!
You steer clear of a gay old time? Despise AC/DC?
You've never munched on curry? That is really un-PC!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 11/15/05 at 12:55 am

Nib's Internet Guesstimation Quiz
Guess what each site is about, then check your guesstimation skills!

1)  What is www.something.com?
a) A movie review site.
b) A site hosting photoshop competitions.
c) A gambling e-business.
d) A fan site for the rock band 'Something'.
e) A site with only the word 'Something'.
 
2)  What is www.gingerbreadman.com?
a) A children's poetry wepage.
b) An architecture site.
c) A bakery e-store.
d) A German blog.
e) An anti-Bush site.
 
3)  What is www.two.com?
a) A wedding site.
b) A mobile phone e-store.
c) A breast-implant website.
d) A page critiquing film sequels.
e) An STD site.
 
4)  What is www.asparagus.com?
a) An online battle game.
b) A webpage about urination.
c) A health site promoting asparagus.
d) A French student forum.
e) A computer business.
 
5)  What is www.planetout.com?
a) A site about teen pregnancy.
b) A free place to store images and films.
c) A joke NASA site.
d) An online gay community.
e) A cafe webpage.
 
6)  What is www.ceruleanbutterfly.com?
a) An art competition site.
b) An African charity.
c) A girl's toys e-store.
d) A science site.
e) A controversial anorexia site.
 
7)  What is www.iwantcandy.com?
a) A site about chocolate.
b) A porn site.
c) A site linking to porn and chocolate sites.
d) An Aaron Carter fan site.
e) A finance e-business.
 
8)  What is www.jumpoffacliff.com?
a) An abseiling site.
b) An American skating community.
c) A site to email insults to people.
d) A site documenting funny suicides.
e) An online cartoon.
 
9)  What is www.pinkflamingo.com?
a) A punk music site.
b) A site about erotic books.
c) A clothing e-store.
d) A feminist blog.
e) An Asian restaurant webpage.

10)  Which of the following sites does not come up when you google 'Luke Brattoni'?
a) www.amiright.com
b) www.inthe00s.com
c) www.whatfreaks.com
d) www.therealtimshady.com
e) www.themostfunnycomedianinthehistoryofmankind.org

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 11/23/05 at 12:41 am

WARNING: Coarse language.

Lethal Lyricists League Battle Rap #3 vs Aerial

C***, I chew up sugar-coated flakes like you for cereal
Punters all caught venereals the last time they backed-Aerial
A serial killer? His punches hardly slap in the slightest
I'd say that you're more of a repeated rap-suicidist
Crappest of writers: cross-out so much crud, your desk looks scoured
Needed to dig deep for substance...so I disembowelled the coward
Used his guts for garters and both my socks sank to my ankles
I'm boxing this Yank so bad his face is looking star-spangled
Marred and mangled, hardly an able angler (Casting a line)
're-el Air'? Dang, looks like I hooked the Little Mermaid this time. 
*wok sizzle*

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 11/27/05 at 7:36 pm

Antarctic Real Estate

http://www.peakware.com/encyclopedia/ranges/maps/images/antarctica.gif

Oh, the global population,
Rises at a startling rate.
So I'm starting my vocation,
In Antarctic Real Estate!

First I’ll start by billing housing,
Round the Bellinghousen Sea.
Spend a couple hundred thousand,
On a beach resort or three!

Build some multi-storey igloos,
Overlooking all the sights.
Each motel will have perfect views,
Of those whites and whites and… whites…

Places on South Orkney Islands,
Will be rich with tranquil sounds.
(Patrons may encounter violence,
We’ll use penguin burial grounds!)

I’m not one for exploitation,
But this prospect looks so great!
Yeah, it’s all about location,
With Antarctic Real Estate!

The land may all be infertile,
But this real estate is hot!
Quite soon the Antarctic Circle,
Will be tourists’ favourite spot!

I’ll put gay bars in Queen Maud Land
Parlours for ‘an ice massage‘.
Aviaries on Marie Byrd Land,
Hunting boats at Drake Passage.

As a fine tourist attraction,
A bridge ‘cross the Ross Ice Shelf.
Due to “affirmative action”,
Hotels will be staffed by elves!

Need an airport and train station,
And a port for all the freight.
It’s the perfect situation,
For Antarctic Real Estate!

I will set the wheels in motion,
Invest half a billion bucks.
Purchasing the Southern Ocean,
From those Argentinian shmucks!

It’s no sweat conning Norwegians,
I’ll buy out their land claims cheap.
Then exchange those of New Zealand,
For a couple dozen sheep!

I want those spaces owned by France,
Although the climate’s ‘Chile’.
US and Russia took a stance?
Well, weren’t those dimwits silly!

From the Weddell to Amundsen,
To the Vinson Massif ridge.
I am gonna make a fortune,
From selling this giant fridge!

Oh, but due to global warming,
I don’t think the land will last…
So I’ve got some new plans forming,
To buy real estate on Mars!

Gyms and spas on a space station,
(Such a great place to lose weight!)
Yes, I'll be the only agent,
Selling Martian Real Estate!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/01/05 at 12:30 am

WARNING: Coarse language

Lethal Lyricists League Battle Rap #4 vs Demon Pyrokronix

I don't spit with fresh breath, but my death threats will turn you to mince
Since D's a p**nce, I stamped his face and left it covered with Prince
Hints Pyro'll win? Gets ripped to bits- guys, don't try jumpin' the shark
This powerless coward's fightin' fire with jumper-lead sparks
Teachin this b**ch new tricks of linguistics is no easy stunt
A chap who aint received a 'clap', but he's still one 'cheesy c**t'
You can see men hire colonics off Dame Demon Pyrokronix
Claims he's had a gutful of me... my s***n lines his stomach
Demon's too drunk off his 'drops' that 'plonk' to flow when he's sober
Here's me at the bottom of the hill- with D going over
Hoover and Paris Hilton must sponsour him to suck 'n' blow
Not since Bad Santa have I heard such a motherf***in' ho
An anagram of his name reveals what he's wantin' for kicks
The twisted pr**k spends weekends huntin' for MONKEY-PORN-OR-DIX.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/05/05 at 8:44 pm

WARNING: Coarse language

Lethal Lyricists League Battle Rap #5 vs K

This 'retard' drops more s**t than 'Special K' bran flakes.
A damn fake- you'll get stomped flat and flipped like 'pancakez'.
You should be canned, mate. Yeah, your lines need a fine tuna.
How can this man take two years elevating and still be Jr?
I'll slaughter this n***er- without meaning to sound direct.
But K's only 1/3 of a name I actually respect.
More of a bore than a hog with a drill in the African war.
Punch with gay slaps, if I want to see K-rap... I'll watch German porn.
Your s**t is 'tired' and goes in circles, every word that you've 'spoke'.
I'll anagram your single-letter name... and still get a joke.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/07/05 at 5:23 am

FUEL

http://www.alxzka.com/~alxzka/fuel/drop.jpg

Everyone adores my new invention.
Who'd have thought that engine products could be cool?
This gas kicks ass,
Buy it now for Christmas!
Fabulous Unreal Energy Liquid: FUEL!

"What's that?" I can hear you ask.
Come and have a gander at this sample flask!
It's FUEL! It helps you save a buck.
It's really cheap, it isn't steep. My friend, you are in luck!

So lend an ear and I'll be fraaank...
Just put this in your petrol taaank!

There's a need for a new source of power.
Petrol prices nowadays are oh, quite dear!
Bowls? Cups? Roll up!
Better than that old stuff!
FUEL's a revolutionary new idea!

FUEL, FUEL, FUEL for everyone!
Cars cannot rely on power from the sun...
Or sea! And so you see, my friend,
That my new awesome power source is cooler than the wind!

No toxins in your machine, nooo...
And cheap as a cappucinooo!

Simply take a bunch of old cadavers,
Drop those corpses in a giant blender- whee!
Snap, flick! Splat, drip!
Making FUEL is that quick!
We recycle bodies that clog up your cemet'ry!

"Good God! Have you no remorse?"
I'd like to see YOU find a more abundant source!
"But dude, your way is really cruel!"
As bad as the pollution caused by fossil fuel?

Once you have overcome your tiiiffs...
You'll find the best fuel comes from stiiiffs!

Thennn...
Every pump will have my FUEL on special.
Anyone on diesel will be called a fool!
Yo folks, no joke!
Buy some now, you slow poke!
Soon you may yourself be ground up into FUEL.

Sliced and diced and mished and squished up into FUEL!
Juice you into Fabulous Unreal Energy Liquid: FUEL!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/11/05 at 1:43 am

WARNING: Sexual references

Crush

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/45/9/1/O/45916316O329734368.jpg

I've got a crush on you and it is really bad
As I've worshipped your father since I was a lad

I don't know what to get you for a Christmas gift
Because your birthday's on December 25th
A halo glimmers all around your glitterin' head
Or so your father tells us through His written word

More holy than an angel, you're a virgin soul
To drink your blood and eat your bod will make me whole
I have worshipped your father since I was eleven
So, come on and take me for a ride up to heaven

I've got a crush on you and it is really bad
As my priest tells me that this lust is just a fad

So who is it that I so wish to hook up with?
This cherub who was born December 25th?
Whose father people worship in a mass that gathers?
Well duh- I've got a crush on Hailie-Jade Mathers!

I've got a crush on you and it is really bad
Cuz I'd just use you to try and get with your dad!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/11/05 at 6:43 pm

Love Life

http://www.s0s.co.uk/beta/images/mg-images/5.jpg

Bursting forth from the thighs of Mother Earth
Blood-covered eyes
Open
Taking in the wonders of this worthless life
Looking around at the sights
Your tepid surrounds
And the first sounds you make in reply
Are cries

For this world is a terrible place
Full of terror and bane
Unfurling
Twirling through a swirl of horror and pain
You're just another new bloodstain
That will wash away in the rain
Another part of the whole
A soldier out on patrol
Defending all
Although you all have to shoulder this role
The older you get, the harder you fall
But for now, you fall into line
Submit and you will be fine
Because Big Brother’s eye is on you
Until the day that you die

Society as the law
And so therein lies the flaw-
The more they order
The more disorder seems to be procured
Ruled by fools
Who regulate, berate and then de-legislate
Leading to patterns of hate
Enforced by leaders of state
Enslaving the human race
As a faceless mass
Assigning places in society
Based on class
Until the last traces of faith
Have been stripped from your past
And you’re another clone
A drone
Working as one of millions of cogs
Slowly wearing away
Alone

The love that you try and kiss
Society plans a miss
Thus life becomes an iron fist
Squeezing
Until ignorance becomes bliss
You dreams disappear as wisps
Your hopes dissolve into mists
This is not life, this is hell
Wave farewell
As razor blades caress your wrists

Your soul is lost in the wild
All life’s meaning seems defiled
Now you wish to escape this cage
Nay, you must love life my child
Fight through the war of despair
For your importance is there
You are a unique
A rare beacon fading
Because you’re scared
Scared of reaching through the sky
Scared each moment passes by
And that you’ll prove you are worthless
By failing if you try
And so you shy away from life
Living the pessimist’s lie
Until the day that you die

Oh, life has so much to give
Ignore the darkness and live
Let your light shine out bright to others
Who will return the gift
Through the best times and the worst
From nursery
To your hearse
Your love of life will be cursed
If you cannot love yourself first
A fog of cynicism
Clouded your vision
Choking and gripping
Blinding you with scornful derision
Now it is time
For Mother Earth to once again open your eyes

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/13/05 at 12:03 am

WARNING: Coarse language

Lethal Lyricists League Battle Rap #6 vs Lyrical God

I've got LG steaming mad, yeah he's one bitter mofo
As his big plan to win was foiled... when I didn't no-show
Your future's dead. Save us the ordeal and nab someone's notepad
Man, if you're losing predictions to me... then you'd have to be bad
This b**** is desperate for feed, he must have an eating problem
But even after uppin so much, still ends up on the bottom
We'll see Lyrical God at the synagogue on Sunday
Because then the little sodden Jew will be 1-3
This MY s***, you backwards halabbak girl (that spells 'kabbalah')
Your lack of lyrical colour could safely stroll through Cronulla
My lines fly over your head so fast they're making your neck crick
If you're the Lyrical God... dude, your angels must be dyslexic

http://www.rapbattles.com/forum/sho...153&postcount=3
^Pathetic anagram attempt- that's my game, you surly sod
What a shame, I've gone and trodden all over A GIRLY CLOD.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/15/05 at 5:52 pm

I Suck At Poetry

http://www.fortune3.com/~comp74688/21685343.gif

I wrote a poem today,
But I couldn’t quite work out what to say.
Snuck in some sibilance,
Some consonance and vowels.
What was the relevance?
My writing talent smells.
My ‘moving’ sentiments,
Cause movement of the bowels.

My similes are like a drowning trachea.
My metaphors slowly melt into ice.
How can I be a poet as a career?
My leitmotifs don’t even show up twice.

Alliteration’s always awful.
Internal rhyming earns a guffaw.
My concrete

struc
turing
is done so

slopp
ily.
I’m bad at assonance, can’t add it properly.
And lo, I tend to sound archaic- woe is me!
Oh… I suck at poetry.

I’m such a damn amateur.
Cuz I use ‘pathetic pentameter’.
Screw up the syllables,
In ev-er-y-y line.
Critique is critical,
For every work of mine.
And my plots sit so still,
They get a loitering fine!

My similes are like the moon’s diarrhoea.
My metaphors decay and gather flies.
My poetry is like Shakespeare’s King Lear:
It’s old, grows incoherent… then it dies!

My palindromes bite palindromes my.
The flow of my verse ends up so dry.
My use of repetition’s just a cheap reprise.
My use of repetition’s just a cheap reprise.
I’ve tripped over my feet. I’m really bad at these.
My synecdoches fail totally;
The writer stinks? You know it’s me;
My structuring’s like old debris;
Oh… I suck at poetry!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/18/05 at 9:43 pm

Duet For One

http://www.scsv.nevada.edu/~susanb/jblog/archives/stage%20lights.jpg

Now the crowd is seated quietly,
I've a microphone in hand.
Now the spotlight shines down brightly,
Down upon your empty stand.

Now the orchestra starts playing,
In a melancholy tone.
Now I start my serenading,
As I stand on stage, alone.

Now my single voice is ringing,
The performance has begun.
Now I am by myself, singing,
Singing this duet for one.

No more banter with the pianist,
... ... ... ... ... ... ...
No more harmonies between us,
.. ... ... ... ... ... ...

You're my angel, ... ... ... ...
... ... ... ..., I'm you're Clyde!
... ... ... ..., you're my flower!
Now I'm empty deep inside.

... ... ... ... burned so hot, dear.
... ... ... just like the sun!
... ... ... ... when you're not here,
... ... ... duet for one.

... ... ... ... ... ... ...
How I want to love you back!
... ... ... ... ... ... ...
And mine slowly turns to black.

Broke down all walls of resistance!
... ... ... ... ... ... ...
Silhouetted in the distance,
... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Why'd you leave me? ... ... ... ...
... ... ... ... when you're gone.
... ... ... ... as I'm singing,
Singing this ... ... ... ...

Ahh ahh ahh ahh, ... ... ... ...
... ... ... ..., ahh ahh ahhhhh.
Ahh ahh ahh ahh, ... ... ... ...
Ahh ahh ahh ahh, ahh ahh ahhhhh.

Oh, what happened to our loving?
Both must lose if neither won.
Everything turned into nothing,
Just like this duet for one.

... ... ... a dozen roses.
But you turn away ... ...
Now the curtain gently closes,
On this damned duet for one.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/21/05 at 10:04 pm

Omelas

http://fc07.deviantart.com/fs18/f/2007/132/3/c/1__scapegoat_by_KarateMuffin.jpg

I stand
A lone stranger
To this city of angels
Atop a hill
Overlooking the village below
Heaven on earth
A splash of happiness
With every birth
Each citizen and little'un
Emitting a smile of glittering
An avid fervour for life
Flavoured with radiant light
Perfumed in vivid colours
Golden children
Happy and bright

I glimpse the symphonies
Of childhood innocence at play
Listen to rays of sunlight
Glistening
Caressing the sky
I taste the fruits of utopia
Luminous colours of joy
And inhale celebration
Of the villagers for this day

But beyond the glow of merriment
I spy a marring grey
A cement cellar of sediment
Concealed away
And through the darkened rust
Of corroded, corrugated skin
Is a sliver of a crack
Where a tiny eye cries out from within

For this world of happiness
Has been besmirched by a curse
A black contract of paradox
Too sordid to form in words
Hiding inside the squalid coffin
Squats a body, defiled
Swallowed up by denial
The hollow shell of a soul
A child

Rejected, neglected
Subjected to infection
Starved of food, health, life
Love and affection
The fateful scapegoat
Emaciated from the gloom
Kept locked inside darkness
An empty room
Buried in starkness like a stillborn in the womb
A tomb

This is the curse of Omelas
In order for all to live in happiness
There must be one kept trapped
Strapped
Wrapped up in blackness
And it is said that when villagers
Will go the distance and visit
The wretched prison
They hear infinity from the lonely eye in the crack
A moment
Then without a word, they will turn to the hills
Following the track away from the village
Never turning back

But I, I stand atop these hills
A lone stranger
Speaking infinity to the lonely eye from afar
And I climb down from the peak
Passing through the streaks of people
Playing, laughing, kissing
Blissful ignorance glistening from every face
And I open the cellar door
Gouged out from the village floor
Flooding the child with light of freedom
As I take his place.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/22/05 at 12:43 am

WARNING: Coarse language

Lethal Lyricists League Battle Rap #7 vs Meks

Congratulations! You're one lyrically gifted pr***!
...but your 8 year-old sister could do better arithmetic
Your script is dead, that s*** was ghost written- from the crypt you're in
To get your 'asphalt' you 'road' my d***... are you 'b**** or man'?
When I asked for a bye-week, I didn't spell it with B I
This f***in pest's tryna hit my chest, but he's only 'knee-high'
Turning Japanese- you're squintin from chronic masturbation
Now's the crowd's turn to grimace... watching Nib Oswald 'punch-u-asian'
~ text you write can , bit better I'll / and bury it
Put a Alt to Meks and End you with the Delete key... period.
Must be allergic to failure, the way ya ego's so swollen
Even though you drop more half-a**ed than a subscript semi-colon
Have fun with your unorthodox method of stuffing the turkey
Whilst I unwrap your sister's Christmas presence... yea you heard me

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/23/05 at 9:54 pm

Capitalism For Christmas

http://www.fabulist.org/postimages/santa.jpg

Drawing close to the Christmas season,
Only one thing I need appeasin',
Lots of new commodities in enormous quantities!
Christmas time encourages greed.

You want to see a shocking thriller?
View the cost of our stocking filler!
Candy canes and Santa caps, 'stocking up' with useless crap!
It's what I what, not what I need.

Spend spend spend,
Buy buy buy,
It's time to commodify!
Buy buy buy,
Spend spend spend,
Purchase 'til the season's end!

Gifts gifts gifts,
Food food food,
I'm in a consumer mood!
Food food food,
Gifts gifts gifts,
Capitalism for Christmas!

Christmas lunches full of laughter,
Bins filled up with food scraps after.
Turkey, lobster and fresh ham? Toss it all in the trash can!
No moral pangs are stopping me!

Screw all the homeless starving peasants,
I'm gonna spend my cash on presents.
DVDs and chocolates, I will take the fudgeing lot!
Christmas time is a shopping spree!

Spend spend spend,
Buy buy buy,
It's time to commodify!
Buy buy buy,
Spend spend spend,
Purchase 'til the season's end!

Gifts gifts gifts,
Food food food,
I'm in a consumer mood!
Food food food,
Gifts gifts gifts,
Capitalism for Christmas!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 01/02/06 at 5:29 am

Old Bat Out Of Hell

http://www.thebeanshop.com/upload/pictures/granny%20lg.jpg

Hoonin' through the nursery home at seven k's an hour
Nana nana nana! Nana nanaaa!
Pumpin' almost half-a-Shetland-pony of horsepower
Nana nana nana! Nana nanaaa!
Flippin' off teenagers with an old arthritic finger
Nana nana nana! Nana nanaaa!
Doin' donuts at the RSL when she wins bingo
Nana nana nana! Nana nanaaa!

She never ever wants to be seen riding in a wheelchair
She hasn't used a walker since the time she lost her real hair
She looks like a Galapogas tortoise pulled from its shell
But man, she rides that scooter like an old bat out of hell!

Flyin' past at break-hip speeds when she's out doing shopping
Nana nana nana, nana nanaaa!
Floorin' it along the aisles without a means of stopping 
Nana nana nana, nana nanaaa!
Has the motor screamin' like an evening tea kettle
Nana nana nana, nana nanaaa!
This old bird keeps goin' with the pedal to the metal
Nana nana nana, nana nanaaa!

Her mammaries may dangle down around her scabby knees
But she can tear up asphalt like she's racing the Grand Prix
The battery is whining cuz it's only single cell
But man, she rides that scooter like an old bat out of hell!

Nana nana nana, nana nanaaa!
Nana nana nana, nana nanaaa!
Nana nana nana, nana nanaaa!
Nana nana nana, nana nanaaa!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 01/06/06 at 4:47 am

WARNING: Mass payout theme

'Geri's Gone To Perth'
(to the tune of 'Jenny From The Block' by J.Lo)

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/34/3/2/O/34325425O484220826.jpg

Hear us cheer, we are merry with mirth,
Now that, now that Geri's gone to Perth.
Off to a new city, arse-end of the Earth!
And when it's time to go, you know what we'll shout out:
"So long!"

Yes, that lass with the very small girth,
Finally, finally Geri's gone to Perth.
Over there in WAAPA's where she seeks a berth.
And now that she has gone, we mourn... with party horns!
"She's gone!"

First joined up to Dramac to act in scripts,
The music clique, then... hello, what's this?
Handle pics?
I doth crown her the Prima Donna queen,
A diva if I've seen one...
(Scene steal!)
1.5 Spot was hopeless.
(Scene stea!l)
*wide-eyed, patronising coochy-coo tone:* "Yes it was!"
'Leave A Message' was no presage,
Of an Oscar nominee! 

Last year's cast has a terrible dearth,
Now that, now that Geri's gone to Perth.
'Blue' us off so much, she now looks like a smurf!
But as she disappears, we cheer with rejoicing:
"Freedom!"

We are gleeful as she leaves our turf,
Finally, finally Geri's gone to Perth.
Turned her snobby nose up at the Gosford surf,
An actress on the go, who knows what she'll sing now?
*retarded noseflick:* "Duh... songs?"

Moved down to Perth to live,
Histrionics whizz.
(But, oh, such a klutz!)
In 'Personals'? A chorus bit
Probably cuz she had no ti glitz.
Ripper tune? Gee, she stuffed it!
'Hand of God' had one sex skit:
Miss Hakewill?
She's finally leaving!

'Double-WAAPA'... did James get in first?
"Beat ya! Beat ya!" Geri's gone to Perth.
(Slowly watch Nib's rhyming just get worse and worse.)
And as she leaves the coast, we toast with our champagne:
"Tres bon!"

Judges fudged, overvalued her worth,
"Perfect! Perfect!" ...did they want the worst?
When they hear her 'birthing scream' I think they'll burst!
But now she's gone to Perth, there's one thing to say now...
..."Come back!"

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 01/09/06 at 1:46 am

WARNING: Copious alcoholic references

Happy 21st Birthday Tony

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/61/1/3/O/61135172O991327019.jpg

Ayo captain, get strapped in, cuz I'ma start rappin',
Before your lips wrap 'round the beer tap and start sappin'.
I'll make it quick, dude, so you don't start to get thirstay.
Just wanna wish you a Happy 21st Birthday!

So listen up, before Tony begins to piss it up,
And starts sipping absinthe from a cup until he splits his guts.
This shmuck drinks so much whisky, rum and wine,
That breathalysers always read: "One at a time".

He tried out for NIDA after five pints of cider,
But their offer was over once they saw him act sober!
His love life lately has been quite bland...
Cuz he just broke up with his own right hand!

He's a white man- but a fan of hip hop, I am told.
A pity he can't listen to it now- he's too damn old!
A chronic masturbater having plenty of fun,
He'll drink a vodka chaser with his Heineken.
So, now that Tony Slater's finally getting drunk,
Everyone- get your glasses raised, he's 21!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 01/10/06 at 3:03 am

All A Joke

http://mareserenitatis.blogs.sapo.pt/arquivo/Sad%20Clown%20para%20o%20blog.jpg

Knock knock
Who's there
On the opposite side
Of the door
From before
All my feeling died?

Knock knock
Who's there
Anybody at home?
In my mind
I am blind
I am all alone

Silence who?
Silence who?

So did you hear the one
About my swollen heart
I built a wall of art
It slowly falls apart

So did you hear the one
About the soul who woke
His dreams and goals had broke
His life was all a joke

Ha ha, ha ha
Ha ha, ha ha
Ha ha, ha ha
Ha ha.

Watch the boy in the bubble floating high
Tries reaching out and his whole world goes pop
What's the difference between me and I?
Both crossed the road because one couldn't stop

What do you get if you cross the line now?
Climb out of my doppelgänger's tight hold
How many nights of silently cryin' out
Does it take before I change the lightbulb?

Orange you glad
Orange you glad I didn't seek salvation
Orange you glad
Orange you glad I didn't take damnation

Orange you glad
Orange you glad I didn't stay above you
Orange you glad
Orange you glad I didn't say I love you

Ha ha, ha ha
Ha ha, ha ha
Ha ha, ha ha
Ha ha.

Three men walked into a dusty tavern
Desparation, Paranoia and Shame
Boy in the corner took sips from heaven
And the punchline to his life never came

So did you hear the one
Where I evade the day
Swallow the shades of grey
And slowly fade away

So did you hear the one
About the soul who woke
His dreams and goals had broke
His life was all a joke

Ha ha, ha ha
Ha ha, ha ha
Ha ha, ha ha
Ha ha.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 01/16/06 at 12:23 am

Tongue

http://www.hbfasia.org/southeastasia/thailand/exhibitions/identitiesversusglobalisation/ivg_cat/images/art_fullsize/CHOEUN_RITHY.jpg

face of charcoal
engulfed within chiaroscuro angst
hears the whisper
of your silent cri de couer

a sotto voce scream
echoing ad infinitum
pain rippling away
and condensing into droplets
which carve rivulets
of verboten hope
slowly down
to the floor

Madame Butterfly
stands poised
at the guillotine of liberty
drinks in the moment
with unblinking eyes
and delivers her coup de grace

veni, vidi, vertere

watching hoi polloi feast
from the trough of haute couture
a bitter sweet deja vu of
the Fallen trodden beneath the boots of
the army of
the Ubermensch
spines folding
into origami sheep
maa

drink to the Weltschmerz
drink to the haiku burning
a hole in my throat

another faux pas
the blade of shame sliding against rock again
ever sharpening
ever sharp
for that moment of seppuku redemption
the quid pro quo
to shatter your mirror of Schadenfreude

halal mind
and kosher soul
heart kept
inside a formaldehyde jar
as a memento mori
life and death
neatly arranged into a chaotic ikebana
in the corner
of the room

resistance: your piece de resistance
wrap your tongue
around the earth
and wash it down
with the sour ambrosia
of my blood

Hail Mary
Mother Of Grace
come, houri
whisk me away on your melting wings

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 01/17/06 at 4:30 am

WARNING: Mature theme, coarse language

Suicidal

http://www.vicclap.hu/static/pic/photo/suicideFunny.jpg

I've got bills accumulating
And my filthy house sucks ass
Fed up with Internet dating
Social life is no success
I've got no sense of direction
Sick of working nine to five
Now I can’t get an erection?
May as well just take my life!

Don’t think I’ll idle the car in the shed until I die
Cuz petrol prices nowadays are climbing up quite high
I would arrange for an assassin to come and hunt me
But blast it, those dastardly bastards charge an upfront fee

Oh, come on Luke, they always said you had imagination
Surely you can think up some ways of self-eradication
You could score a Darwin Award if your death is renowned
Even though you will get it when you’re six feet underground

I’ll pop twelve of those ‘Do Not Eat’ satchels of silica
Then race no-handed down a hill in an old billy cart
I’ll play a game of hangman, but make sure I aim to lose
And then I think I’ll go shopping for some new cement shoes

French-kiss a ceiling fan, make love to a scorpion pit
Jump in front of a van, sip from a Kevorkian drip
Set my sauna alight with fire til it’s nice and warm
Then go outside at night and fly kites in a lightning storm

I will tease some bees
I will mosh in glass
Offend some black men
Thus get crushed to dust

I will cock a glock
I will rope my throat
Then pass out from gas
And just hope I’ll choke

I will swill some pills
I will slit my wrists
Be chained to two trains
To get ripped to bits

I’ll ride a submarine that’s forty years past warranty
Then run around hugging everybody in quarantine
I’ll seize a boat full of narcotics, then sniff the whole shipment
Go bungee-jumping off a cliff… without any equipment

I’ll wear a trench coat on a train in the middle of summer
And join up to the armed forces adorned in cardboard armour
I’ll try to cure my allergies by rolling in lawn trimmings
Then head off to the beach with my new group of friends- they’re lemmings

I’ll keep my arms and legs and head outside the roller coaster.
Then go take a long hot bath with an electrical toaster
I hear that giant boulders make quite a beautiful necklace
Why not just take up smoking? Come on man, now that’s just reckless!

I’ll try eating a power outlet with a fork and knife
Anything that will end this void that is my boring life
Those kamikaze guys are all about to lose their title
For I am the new idol of becoming suicidal

I've got bills accumulating
And my filthy house sucks ass
Fed up with Internet dating
Social life is no success
I've got no sense of direction
Sick of working nine to five
Now I can’t get an erection?
May as well just take my life!

I am paging the Grim Reaper
As I try to take my life
Imitating a train sleeper
As I try to take my life
Think it’s time to blow my light out
As I try to take my life
Can I hurry up and die now?
As I try to, try to, try to,
try to, try to, try to, try to take my life!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: EmiLoca on 01/19/06 at 3:44 pm


WORK IN PROGRESS
"Rentin' Porn" to the tune of "When I'm Gone" by Eminem


HEY!  I totally started writing MY "Rentin' Porn" FIRST, so you can just...I don't know....

Oh.  It appears that yours is, uh, better than mine.

Another 7-month parody writing hiatus for me is in order!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 01/21/06 at 5:09 am

WARNING: Mild themes

Caveat Emptor

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/58/9/8/O/58982282O870892517.jpg

This product contains no CFCs
Made of environmentally friendly materials
100% recycled
Please dispose of this wrapper thoughtfully

Phone now
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Original recipe
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Diet
Lite
Pocket size
Fun size
Super size
One size fits most
Carb free
Sugar free
Fat free
Buy 1 get 1 free

Trial period
Extended warranty
30 day guarantee
Or your money cheerfully refunded

Available at all good stores
Dishwasher and microwave safe
Some assembly required
Each sold seperately
Batteries not included
Overseas model shown
While stock lasts
Sorry, no layby

Expiry date on side of bottle
See inside packet for details
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Tear along perforated edge
Remove protective label
Open other end
Cut here
Discard if package has been tampered with

Contains caffeine
Contains Phenyalanine
Contains unpasteurised milk and/or egg products
Contains small parts

Maximum load: nothing
Minimum system requirements: everything
Compatible with: anything
Use by: yesterday

Shake well before use
Use under adult supervision
Protective clothing must be worn
Refrigerate after opening

Concentrate
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Use only as directed
Consult your doctor if pain persists

Recommended for a mature audience
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Offer only applies to marked stock 
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Keep away from children
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No artificial colours
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Do not iron
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Not for children under 3 years of age
Not available in stores
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May contain traces of nuts
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Warning
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This is not a toy.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: ADAMC on 01/26/06 at 4:46 am

I've got a lush and luscious crush
On Patric- GERI.


'crush on Patric' What the...!!

C'mon, Geri may be in Perth, but that's no reason to turn to homosexuality

Although Pat is kinda handsome...

signed: fellow Club Mac guest

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 01/26/06 at 8:11 pm

I So Don't Have A Crush On Geri

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/Geri.jpg


Luke= Blue
Pat= Green
Both= Brown

Fa la la la la la!
(La la la la!)
Fa la la la la laaa!
(La la la!)
Fa la la la la la!
(La la la la!)
Fa la la la la la!

At Dramac tryouts last year,
She so wasn't sitting there,
With a slight hint of brassiere,
Or the sunlight in her hair.

(Oh yeah.)

I didn't join the circle,
With my eyeballs turned to gloop.
And wasn't even irked when,
Paired-off with 'Miss Christian Group'.

(Aw, poop.)

I didn't think 'Hip Hooray!'
When at group time she found me.
And totally did not say:
"Hey, the other groups are still rehearsing, I think we have time to run through our scene again.
You know, especially that part where you run up and WRAP YOUR LEG AROUND ME."

"Oh, Roger!"
"Oh, Veronica."
"... you... you can let go now, Nib.
"Sorry."

I so did not turn green,
When Rodney got that role.
I mean, she's still seventeen...
What's he- twenty five years old?!

*motions upwards*
"What, twenty seven years old? ...twenty eight?!"
*whisper whisper*
"Turning forty? Piss off! With that bod? ...I mean, where's the ring?!"
*whisper whisper*
"...Oh. So I'm, like, still totally in, right?"
*thumbs up*

Didn't anagram her name,
As...
"HER: LIKE A WILD ANGEL."
...cuz that would be really lame,
Yet rather quite a strange thrill.
(*snort* Weirrrd.)

Oh, I so did not keep tabs,
On how she usually checks her emails on a Thursday evening, but lately in the holidays it's been on a Sunday afternoon.

...
...when I'd finish her kebabs,
I so didn't stuff them in my cheeks for the rest of the day and then spit them out when I got back home and while they were still all gooey and malleable, mould the soggy goodness into an exact replica of her face, then stalk her for months on end through the university, plucking the stray hairs that she'd left behind on seats and then painstakingly styling each one into her mushy kebab scalp until I had a perfect shrine of her in my ROOM.

"...actually, you did do that."
"Right, that one I did do... but you're the one who spells her name out in urinals, right?"  
"Yep."
"Cool."

It's said she's a man-eater,
Well just cover me in sauce!
And some pepper and paprika,
And some mayonnaise of course.
(Now will that be a six inch or a foot long?)

*back-of-head-cuff!*

No-one had the slightest clue!
(Ooo-ooo!)
Was so inconspicuous!
(Yoo-ess!)
Every blatant thing I do,
(Ooo-ooo!)
Is just so not obvious!

"Oh, come off it! How about in WASP when you spent over an hour writing out that page of homework for her in your neatest handwriting!"
"So what? Her page had gotten a tear down the bottom. She couldn't go out on stage with a ripped prop!"
"Yeah, but you'd had an actual essay due three days earlier!"
"Oh yeah, did I tell you I ended up getting 90% for that even though it was a week late?"
"Well, you certainly told her. Thrice. And don't think we haven't noticed your little 'touchy-feelies' when we count to twenty one backstage during warm-up."
"Hey, I only do those whenever she says 'thirteen'!"
"She always says 'thirteen'."
"Which reminds me..."

Off to Perth, eh? What a shame,
No more advances from Pat!
But our birthday's still the same,
What are the chances of that?


"You romanceless twat. How does 1 in 365 sound?!"
"Ooh, I actually think it'd be closer to 4 in 1461. You have to take leap years into account, you see."
*whips out calculator* Well, in that case, you'd also have to factor in the unbalanced rate of births across the calendar year."
"And don't forget the 1987 bit, it was the same year, too."
"Slow down, slow down, I'm typing... Okay, July 13... 1987..."
"Oh, and she was born in Paris, so even though the times on our birth certificates might be different, there is a sliiight chance that we were both being wrenched from our mothers' straining vaginas simultaneously."
"Sure, sure... Paris... mothers'... straining... vaginas... OK, how does a 1 in 13,000 chance sound? Meh, not such a big deal. You know, I just so happen to share birthdays with my sister. Do you... do you wanna swap?"
"Erm... no. I mean, she didn't perform a character who's from Nebraska, now, did she?"
"... uh, so? What's... what's that got to do with anything?"
*slowly withdraws wallet from pocket, flips open to picture of Emi, begins stroking photograph's hair sensually with fingertip*
"...I said WHAT'S THAT GOT TO DO WITH ANYTHING?!
"Huh? What? Nothing."

No feelings of attraction,
No sly hints growing weary.
No way, none of my actions,
Were more than ordinary.
Didn't worm into her faction,
No proof to the contrary.
She's not a prime distraction,
My palms are so not hairy!
...
...
...
*cough*


Cuz I never ever have,
And never ever Hakewill,
Have to blush just because,
I've a lush and luscious crush on Patrick!

"...Geri."
"GERI!"

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 01/26/06 at 11:51 pm

WARNING: Mature theme, drug references, mild language

Oh, cringe. I did this in about two hours and sent it in the day it was due and made the finalists of the National Youth Week writing section. And it's so bad! Gawd, crrrringepops for 15 year-old me.

Nothing To Lose

http://www.hbys.com/pictures/underpass.jpg

Pellets of rain hammered the street. The staccato resonance of endless patter was drowned out by a passing vehicle. David shivered as he crouched in his alley. The garbage bin next to him had water spilling out from the rim to seep a patch of icy water down his back. He tilted up a bourbon bottle that was clasped in his hand; the dregs of the liquid were suckled out before it was thrown against the opposite wall. The piercing shatter rented the monotonous pouring of the rain. David rubbed his frozen hands together, to draw every bit of heat from the friction. Eventually the precipitation thinned out and the sun awoke from hibernation to cast heat across the street. It illuminated the red Mercedes. The perfect Mercedes. Polished shell, unblemished hubcaps and flawless interior. Every day David would go across the street for a bottle of bourbon with the money he had scrounged from begging. He would slink past the car slowly, his eyes absorbing every aspect of the vehicle. The owner rarely drove it, parking it outside his flat to advertise his success. David would be tortured every day by the consecrated idol, reminding him of his own destitution. David hated the world. All he had was his shabby woollen jumper and torn tracksuit pants. They were both worn out and stained with vomit. Ever since running away from the orphanage he had gone from shelter to shelter, always with the same bare mattresses and stale food. He had holed himself up in the alley for seven months, his chin now marred with an accumulation of wiry hair, his body reeking of malodorous musk. The rain had washed his greasy hair but his saturated clothes clung to his body as dead weight, a more fetid stench than ever.

The endless mass of people walking past disgraced the small hat that sat on the sidewalk holding less than a dollar in change. Pangs of hunger ravished David's emaciated body; he had not eaten for almost a week, his need for nourishment falling second to alcohol. The day dragged on, David unable to keep his eyes away from the Mercedes. He could see his reflection in the glossy coat, his dark, sunken eyes. The cost of the car could have fed David and hundreds of others like him for a year. ..He looked away and spat into the street. Bright red blood shone up at him. His gums ached, taking his attention away from his wrenched gut. A young man across the road dropped half a burger atop a bin. David licked his cracked lips with his parched tongue and forced himself up. The energy drained from his weakened body would be refuelled by the burger. He reached the bin and leant against it panting heavily. Another surge of excruciating pain tormented his stomach. David grabbed the burger and greedily stuffed it into his mouth. A woman walking past pulled her daughter close and scurried past. David had grown used to snide glances of abhorrence. He licked a smear of mayonnaise from his grimy fingers and headed back to his alley, gazing dreamily at the Mercedes. He rested his aching body against the trashcan, his damp clothes beginning to dry off.

A school bus pulled up across the road and a hoard of students David's age dismounted, chatting and laughing. They dispersed in twos and threes, except for one girl who crossed the road and started walking David's direction. He sat up and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. She was beautiful. Her glossy hair radiated and her emerald eyes seemed to bore a hole into his heart. She stopped as she reached him and looked down. His eyes met hers and for that brief moment time ceased. Nothing moved. It was a serene and perfect eternity as both their worlds were combined without words. She fumbled into her purse and withdrew a hundred dollar bill. She placed it into his hat and stood up again. "You need this more than I do." she said in her angelic purr. Then she was gone, this pulchritudinous angel. David stared at the note for what seemed like hours. With this money he could get a week’s worth of decent meals, and buy some new clothes. He had tried gaining employment earlier in the year, but the arrogant job interviewer had deceived David from the start, commending his will to get a job and keep off the streets to then end the interview breaking the' dreadful news' that they would not hire anyone who dressed so inappropriately. David had not tried employment from that time onward, seeking isolated refuge in the alley.

All his life David had been neglected and unloved. He looked again at the hundred-dollar bill. The Mercedes seemed a faint and distant memory. He had never owned so much money in his life. He had learnt long ago that society is driven by money, and now he had an opportunity. He didn't care for all of the millionaire executives or royalty, at that moment he felt the richest man on Earth. An angel had been sent from above to kick-start him into a normal life. He was still young and could now get his life started over. He stood up and advanced toward his hat to be knocked down again by a hard blow to the back of his head. He tried turning around but was kicked in the ribs and winded. Fists hammered away at his face and he felt blood spilling out over his mouth. He managed to put in a few punches himself but was overwhelmed with surprise and malnutrition. He felt his weak body go limp, as he was knocked
unconscious. He woke with a groan an hour or so later. It was getting dark and cold. David's head was pounding and his nose was broken. A pool of blood had formed around his torso. Bruises on his chest smarted every time he moved and he had a black eye that had swollen to obscure his vision. David pushed the pain to the back of his brain as he turned to his hat. It was overturned, only a twenty cent coin sat next to it. He choked and started coughing heavily. This soon escalated into a maniacal laugh. He stared at the hat in disbelief, tears streaming down his face, carving grooves down the dry blood that caked his face. All of his future had been wrapped up in that slip of paper. Some street kid had stolen it away from him in a flash. He wept heavily for several minutes. He wept for his physical and mental pain. He wept for his forsaken life. He wouldn't be handed an opportunity like this again. His shaking from tears turned to heaves of anger.

How could society allow this to happen to him? He hadn't done anything wrong. His parents had abandoned him at a young age and he had been brought up in an under funded orphanage that was staffed with incompetent, untrained carers. At ten he had run away after evading the sexual advances from a staff member and had since then lived a life of utter poverty, bathing himself in public restrooms. He was an alcoholic, which drained what pitiful financial aid he could muster. No one cared about him. He often watched the television in pubs. People would cheerfully be chatting and scoffing down pies.. But everyone would go quiet and uncomfortably look away when an advertisement for African Charity came on. As soon as it was over they would be back to chatting amiably with one another as if nothing happened. It was the same for the homeless. People changed the subject to ease their guilt for being so damn wealthy and complaining about petrol prices rising by two cents. David shook with harnessed rage. He wasn't going anywhere in life. He had been just another homeless bum with all the other loaves of s**t in a back alley for over three years; and he would continue being one until he OD'd on crack or was shot by a punk.

His eyes flickered for the millionth time to the Mercedes. The sleek, red Mercedes. He eased his tortured body up and started marching towards it. He had a plan to begin his life over. He had nothing to lose. David had watched the owner countless times get out of his car and slide the key into his mailbox. David smiled at a passing couple, who hurried past quickly in response. He looked up and down the street for any police, and then stuck his lean fingers into the mailbox. They pried around in the corners and swept the bottom, but there was no key. David sighed and dejectedly withdrew his hand, but felt it rub against something on the roof of the mailbox. He knelt down and peered through the slit. A key was taped to the top. He tore off the tape and held the key in his hand. This was his chance. He would sell the car and be able to buy an apartment or small house. David kissed the key and turned towards the car. He slid the key majestically into the keyhole. Savouring the moment, he slowly turned the key around until
there was a click. David's anger ebbed away and was replaced by hope. It was fate when the angel had come and generously given him a chance. It was taken away from him, but now he had an opportunity that he could seize. He would drive far away to start a new life. He opened the door and hopped in as it was started to sprinkle again. The car had a distinct aroma. He felt like a pollutant in this alien luxury. The smooth and clean leather seats accommodated his weight and eased the pain on his back that he had tolerated for many years. David' s nostrils swelled as he inhaled the taste of freedom. He turned on the ignition and revved the engine. It purred welcomingly as the panel in front of him flashed a series of signals. He closed the door, put the car into gear and slid out onto the road.. As there was no traffic in the grimy street, he eased his way along, relishing every moment as if he had a mouth full of creamy chocolate. A sharp cry rang out behind him. David adjusted the rear vision mirror and saw the owner sprinting from his house in a dressing gown. David floored the accelerator and soared around the corner into the main street, the engine gurgling happily. The rain started coming down heavier as thick, fat droplets of water started hammering the windscreen. He stopped at a red light as traffic enveloped him either side in a wave of blurred colour.

A woman in the car next to him gave him a very odd look. David had forgotten he was still in ragged clothes. He reached into the back seat and snatched up a black skivvy. He looked up and saw the owner at the corner of the street talking to a police officer, who was taking notes. He motioned to where David was. The policeman nodded and climbed back into his vehicle. David hastily changed into the skivvy and accelerated out as soon as the lights went green. He had not driven a car before, just in arcades when he was younger. The water on the road made the car fishtail around a corner. He didn't know his way around this part of town and turned to head back to the north, where the orphanage was. The police car behind him had caught up and the lights flashed. David accelerated smoothly. The police car sounded its siren and the chase was on, the wailing and flashing lights adding to David' s sudden adrenaline rush. This was not what he had wanted; he was jus trying to start a new life. A set of traffic lights was up ahead before the orphanage. David knew most of the streets here; he could easily lose the cops. The lights
turned orange. David increased speed, water hissing violently against the sides of the Merc from the wheels. He lost control, the tyres squealing loudly as they strained to grip the bitumen. The car spun sideways, knocking down a newspaper stand. David screamed as the car continued swerving uncontrollably toward a group of children who were crossing the road. One of the boys looked up and yelled, but the rain drained out his cry.

The Merc ploughed into the children, the sickening crunch of metal on flesh struck David' s heart. He threw open the door and ran out. A girl lay a few feet away from the car choking heavy sobs. Her legs were limply mutilated at a strange angle. Blood seeped out from the open wounds where bone was exposed, the rain diluting the puddle of thick blood to dark orange. David ran over to the boy. His chest was a concave dent. There was an endless trickle of blood oozing from the boy's mouth. He was staring upward with wide eyes. David felt soul-wrenching nausea. He cradled the boy's head helplessly, his lip quivering uncontrollably. David looked up, there was another boy staring horrified at the scene from the gutter. The boy looked only ten years old. He screamed and ran away. The police car turned at the end of the street, the lights pulsing flashes of colour through the rain. David stood up trembling. He
took a last look at the girl. She was hyperventilating, mortified with confusion, her eyes frantically darting for help.

David painfully ignored the helpless wheezing and leapt back into the car, screeching off as the lights turned green. David was dry retching now, unable to maintain focus of where he was going. The rain drowned the road into a blur of black. The image of the boy's blank, lifeless gaze would not stop haunting him. The events kept playing back in his head; the boys' scream, the sickening thuds of the car colliding with the children and a stream of blood that flooded the inside of his eyes. David screamed out in excruciating anguish. What had he done to deserve this torture? He sobbed again in agony, then wiped off his tears. A horn brought his attention back to the road, where a second police vehicle had swerved around a corner in front of him. David planted his foot on the pedal and raced past the second cop car as it sluggishly attempted to turn after him. By now he had reached the freeway, where the road carved through the grey wilderness either side. The rain continued pouring down. There were a few cars coming
toward David, but none going his way except for the two police cars, which now had open road to hunt him down. There were no back alleys here, no maze of streets. Everywhere to run but nowhere to hide. David's eyes flickered over the speedometer. He was passing 135kmlp/h. The motor of the red Mercedes was not purring like before, it was roaring ferociously. A whiff of smoke was visible from the blood-spattered dent on the bonnet. Next to the speedometer a light flashed and a beeping went off. David had hardly any petrol left. He knew where he had to go now. He had been subconsciously heading there anyway. A sign directed him left and he turned, the motor screaming as ferociously as the howling wind. Spitting rain continued to slap across the windscreen. David could hardly see, but pressed on down the dirt road. The engine started sputtering. Police sirens were imminent, hugging his every move. The Merc belched and ground violently to a halt. David was thrust forward and through the windscreen, shards of glass showering the damp ground. He groaned and got up, his black eye pulsing pain into his head. He could feel warm blood pouring out from a deep gash down his face. He slowly stumbled off to where a safety fence was set up. David could hear the police cars tear up dirt as they pulled to a halt at the top of the hill where the Merc was. He leant against a tree to catch his breath. The rain painfully pelted his open wound, the wind stripped him of bodily warmth.

He heard muffled shouting and then a spotlight sliced through the night. It quickly rose up to his face, burning his eyes. He turned to continue running but was temporarily blinded, glimpses of silhouetted shrubbery peeping through the blanket of white that covered his sight. He stumbled and fell painfully onto the road. The spotlight was locked onto his back, the policemen running down to get him, their distorted calls hardly reaching him through the endless roar of the rain. David hauled himself up and started an ungainly limping gait to the fence. The spotlight flashed over a sign for a second, reading Eternity Leap. David’s only memory of his parents was having a picnic-at this point, but he had long forgotten his parents' faces. The first officer had caught up to him and drew his gun.

"Freeze!" David cackled manically. The wind and rain had already frozen him half to death. Three more police joined him, weapons drawn. "Come along quietly." A woman yelled. David turned and faced the dark unknown ahead. He climbed on top of the railing. "No!" called the officers in perfect unison, but David had already leapt, welcoming the darkness to engulf him for eternity.

The ten-year-old boy who had witnessed the car accident returned to his orphanage. Distraught at losing his friends, the only people he had in his life, he grabbed what few possessions he owned and turned into the streets. He would probably go on to homeless shelters, or live in the streets. He didn't care anymore. He had lost his parents, his friends, his life. He had nothing left to lose.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 01/30/06 at 10:12 pm

When I was eleven, I submitted two works into a writing competition. One was a bitter, heart-wrenching poem from the viewpoint of a Kosovo victim (with swearing, a la 'USA') and the other was a cheesy twenty-minute effort to kill time at mum's work.
Guess which one got published and later read out on ABC Radio in a voice that retrospectively sounds several octaves higher than Mariah Carey in a helium balloon. Go on, guess.

Soccerball Philosophy

http://www.freespaces.com/akalan/soccerball.jpg

The world is a troubling place.
War.
Famine.
Movie theatres charging 300% the usual price for everything.
There are too many for a young boy to absorb.
My dad says that the best way to get away from it all is to balance a soccerball on your nose.
"It brings out your inner spirit."
...and your nose's blood supply.

A lot of the world's big questions come to you while you balance that ball on your nose.
Where did the world come from?
Is the universe actually just a big sponge?
Why is a sponge called a sponge?
What's the use of sterilising a needle for a lethal injection?
What's another word for synonym?

Although you encounter many questions, you also get some answers!
-The reason 'abbreviation' is such a long word is to make up for the fact that 'long' is such a short one.
-The sun dawns where it does because most things rise in the yeast.
-Yes, teachers are from another planet. Tell one that they are an alien and if they laugh, frown, or eat you, this simply proves my point.
-I figured out pi but forget the 135th* decimal place. (You can still put me in some books, though.)

Right now I have the ball perched on my nose to help answer the most asked question by everybody:
Does pseudoantidisestablishmentarianism(n?) end in an 'n'?
This is the good part.
When you have it up there, you feel the ball shift, so you move aside to balance it.
You keep doing this until you find yourself doing a rhythmic dance.
You begin to hear weird sixties songs transposed into Indian.
Your brain turns all squishy, until...
Until...
UNTIL...

Nothing.
NOTHING?
It didn't work! The soccerball has lost its power!
Now none of the world's great mysteries can be solved!

The world is a troubling place once more. 



*- when you're eleven, you think you're pretty sheeshhot being able to remember that many digits. Shut up.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Aytozee on 02/02/06 at 11:25 pm

Your Dictioaedia is cool; I particularly liked agnus dei.

I thought 'aboriginal' would've been better as: adj having unique musculature.

And 'adrenal': n surgical procedure in which patient receives a third kidney.


A few others I just made up...not sure they're any good

lesion: n military unit favoured by imperial Rome

cockatoo: n synonym: hermaphrodite

assassin: sl German porn, generically

eventide: n (archaic) flat surf

Blotto: n Queensland gambling authority

collage: n (Amer) university

drack: adj buxom

Cheers
Zed



Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: name never used before on 02/03/06 at 11:10 am

This is great! I'm glad I can't read it all at once, because I want to save some for later. Why does amalgam have the meaning of anagram? I can see your interest flagging after the A section. I look forward to even more meaningful words.
Sam

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/05/06 at 4:12 am

WARNING: Crude humour, mild coarse language

Coprophage

http://www.rotten.com/library/culture/dog-sheesh/ds_kid_sheesh.jpg

These days, a kid's oesophagus
Is crammed with crap so putrid.
So I became coprophagous.
(It seemed the step most lucid.)

Way back when I was 6 years old,
I started my new mania:
"Oh mummy, can I lick the bowl?"
"Now now, just pull the chain, dear."

A sick infatuation, eh?
Sounds like a cult religion?
I'm licking statues every day
To clean up from the pigeons!

If I see dog doo on the ground,
Then I kneel down and taste it.
With so much free food lying 'round,
I'd hate to see it wasted!

Appetite's a rapacious one,
I wolf down fresh manure!
It is such stercoraceous fun
To order French ordure!

If I want a sandwich to eat
When I am feeling hungry,
I'll fold my toilet tissue sheet.
"Oh boy, it's really chunky!"

My top lip has a brown moustache,
Poop thickshake... you should try it!
A chamberpot-roast sounds like mush,
But it's a 'bowel-enced' diet!

I like my diarrhoea with cloves,
To add a bit of texture.
Don't need to buy a baker's loaves,
I slice my own dejecta!

A hot, rich, excreta-filled pie?
Such dining's not a bummer!
My motto is 'eat, s*** and die'.
(But I ignore the comma.)

I'll get on my knees under you,
My favourite dining venue!
When I ask for a number two,
Aint from a Chinese menu!

A glass of frass? Champagne with spraints?
Meconium manhattan?
My cooking often gets complaints,
I serve up turds au gratin.

I am a real 'scat man', you see.
My toilet's where the stove is.
And if I have had bran for tea,
Tomorrow: bran leftovers!

My mouth is soon a-watering,
When I watch Shei

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/06/06 at 8:09 pm

WARNING: Content may offend

Gotta Give Your Seat Up

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/65/3/9/O/65391923O174827139.jpg

Give your seat up to geriatrics
And really fat pricks and handicapped chicks
Give your seat up to amputees
And prams of three-kid-families
Give your seat up to wops and fags
And stroppy hags with shopping bags
Give your seat up to Druzes, Jews,
And Hindus... but please, refuse Tom Cruise!

Gotta give your seat up like gentlemen do
Gotta give up your seat to veteran troops
Gotta give your seat up to weathermen, too
Why? Cretinous fool- they're better than you!

Gotta give your seat up, you fit little youth
Gotta give your seat up, yeah, get up and move
Gotta give your seat up to everyone, dude
Why? Cretinous fool- they're better than you!

Give your seat up to paramedics
And hairy rednecks and anorexics
Give your seat up to politicians
And soldiers itchin' to leave you twitchin'
Give your sear up to sinful pastors
And single fathers, those simple bastards
Give your seat up to pissed-off black hos
"White kid! You wack, yo? This the back row!"

Give your seat up to dwarves and midgets
Deformed with stitches and fourteen digits
Give your seat up to VIPs
And gay guys diseased with HIV
Give your seat up to loony freaks
Computer geeks with askew physiques
Give your seat up to those nearly dead
And girls bearin' kid... or on their period

Gotta give your seat up like gentlemen do
Gotta give up your seat to veteran troops
Gotta give your seat up to weathermen, too
Why? Cretinous fool- they're better than you!

Gotta give your seat up, you fit little youth
Gotta give your seat up, yeah, get up and move
Gotta give your seat up to everyone, dude
Why? Cretinous fool- they're better than you!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/07/06 at 11:46 pm

WARNING: Coarse language, content may offend

C**t

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/crunty.jpg

You're a c**t.
Your dead granmother's c**t.
You're the filthy tampon shoved up your dead grandmother's c**t.
You're the string of the filthy tampon shoved up your dead grandmother's c**t.

You're the dried blood on the string of the filthy tampon
Shoved up your dead grandmother's c**t.
You're the cockroach that feeds off the dried blood on the string
Of the filthy tampon shoved up your dead granmother's c**t.
You're the s*** of the cockroach that feeds off the dried blood
On the string of the filthy tampon shoved up your dead grandmother's c**t.
You're the mildew that grows on the s*** of the cockroach
That feeds off the dried blood on the string of the filthy tampon shoved up your dead grandmother's c**t.
You're the bacteria living in the mildew that grows on the s***
Of the cockroach that feeds off the dried blood on the string of the filthy tampon shoved up your dead granmother's c**t.

F*** you.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/23/06 at 10:36 pm

Fire With Fire

http://www.sceneandheard.ca/images/bloodcrip.gif

there was no beginning
and where is the end of a circle?
an eternal inferno
a world gone bezerk
besmirched with sinning
spinning the Earth with a lubricant of spilling blood
the flocks of lost civilians convert
killing God
spurning the church and hijacking the Bible
twisting and turning the scripture's words
into a sinister, sadistic cycle of death
baptized unto an urban abyss of violence
binary rivals perched on a knife blade of survival
fight fire with fire and the whole world is burned alive
crimson tides kiss a purple sky
lick the thinning grin
of a chagrin horizon
the silent epitome of a dying infinite

the ruling few in the class of the ubermensch
wink winsomely like glass syringes
injecting rules into the abused and wretched masses
who chew and ingest the black fluid agendas
until vengeance has infused into their systems
their views of religion infested
with the stench of revenge
deadly feuds and
brutal vendettas and
hate
creating oscilatting patterns of predator/prey
a blazing battle of baseless bigotry
slaves attacking tattered knaves
black against black
blood spatter spraying
as weapons clatter in the fray
an inane display of absurd revelation
sanity shattered
pattering boots tread it away
until faith is a paste of splattered clay
embedded into the pavement
rivers of red slowly spreading throughout the
cracked wasteland of grey
birds of a feather slay brethren
severed ties lay scattered in the gutter drains together
like discarded cigarettes in an ashtray
flames extinguished
immeasurable numbers of teenage veterans
never again to be plagued
by the ravages of angst
cadavers laying in empty graves
dead to the pain

a horrid war
hordes of paupers becoming puppets
to the lords who enforce the laws
which force the poor into this blood sport
as warriors slaughtering
seawater teeming with corpses
thunder roars in horror
an awful breeze screeches
streams of tortured tears scream
turning green with algor mortis
but when the fight has been fought
what one cannot teach has been taught
and order that has been ignored
inches forth through the fog
and is restored
a truce is reached
a brief moment of no man's land
is agreed to
and achieved as each side sheaths their pride
begins cleaning the bleeding tides of evil
from the streets
from their lives
seeing the daylight for the first time
enjoying the peace with a smile
before the sky dies into the horizon
and night arrives once more

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/24/06 at 7:44 pm

Turquamarine

http://www.color-wheel-pro.com/pics/complementary.jpg

There is coral and sorrel
Orange and tortoiseshell
There's cinnabar and cinnamon
And celadon as well

There is chamois and salmon
Mauve and red and mahogany
Amaranth, amethyst
And jade and jet and ebony

There is citron and crimson
Bisque and apricot, too
Cyan, sepia, titian
Sable and cobalt blue

But my favourite colours of all are...

Amburgundy, ceriseda and yelloden!
Sapphron and turquamarine!

Cardinalabaster and mochre!
Maroan and aubergreen!

Heliotopaz, magentian and bariumber!
Solferindigo and silvermilion!

Azureburn and flamingold!
Chartrubious and emerulean!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Red Ant on 02/26/06 at 10:15 pm

I see you have been quite busy here Luke. As promised, I gave your link a look, pretty funny stuff.

When are we going to see the finished parody of It's A Hard Knocks Life? Agrimorfee dared me to continue my Va-China! theme for the Annie musical; "Knocked Up Wife" and "Hard All Night" came to mind, so to speak...

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/02/06 at 12:10 am

WARNING: Strong sexual content, crude humour.

Incest
to the tune of 'All For The Best' from the musical Godspell.

http://www.thebricktestament.com/the_law/incest/lv20_14b.jpg

Audio

When you've been had
By uncles and aunts
Your wife's your Dad
He jumps in your pants
You like illicit kisses
When relatives come to visit
Grandpa is wanking and needing a spanking
It's step-brother-banging romance

You screw your own bro
And blow your nephew
Give a rim job
On Mother's Day too
Playing twister with your sister
Next thing she's undressed

Yes, we call it incest!


My Nan is getting on her knees
While my second niece
Gets some oil to grease up my cousin
Father up the front
Brother having fun
Pulling off our uncle-in-law
We're lying on the ground
In a naked mound
Gonna make some round-the-clock lovin'
They're my next of kin, man
Our love is hardcore

I give my great-grandfather head
Cousin's on my bed
Spouse is both my aunt and my daughter
Mum and Dad agree
Sibling rivalry
Can only be solved with more sex
A filial scandal
I am my own grandma

Grotesque? We call it incest!


Now, how can you suck off your second cousin,
Who's your father's wife,
When all the time your firstborn wanks with your Mum?

I don't know. How can you suck off your second cousin,
Who's your father's wife,
When all the time your firstborn wanks with your Mum?

Or, how can you lay your stepmum's daughter in a sixty-nine,
When all the time your husband's banging your son?

I don't know. How can you lay your stepmum's daughter in a sixty-nine,
When all the time your husband's banging your son?

You idiot!
First, just arrange to wed your own aunty,
So you can be married and thus be having sex with nephews who are your brother.

Wait a minute! That's a total contradiction!
Aha! Unless they are all the same people!

When you've been had
By uncles and aunts

(My Nan is getting on her knees
While my second niece
Gets some oil to grease up my cousin)

Your wife's your Dad
He jumps in your pants

(Father up the front
Brother having fun
Pulling off our uncle-in-law)

You like illicit kisses
When relatives come to visit

(We're lying on the ground
In a naked mound
Gonna make some round-the-clock lovin')

Grandpa is wanking and needing a spanking
It's step-brother-banging romance

(They're my next of kin, man
Our love is hardcore)


You screw your own bro
And blow your nephew

(I give my great-grandfather head
Cousin's on my bed
Spouse is both my aunt and my daughter)

Give a rim job
On Mother's Day too

(Mum and Dad agree
Sibling rivalry
Can only be solved with more sex)

Playing twister with your sister
Next thing she's undressed

(A filial scandal
I am my own grandma)


Yecch! We call it in...
My kids grow limbs out their chests!
It's unlawful, in...
I was weaned on neices' breasts!
Festy, awful in...
Gotta love my family crest!

Yes, we call it incest!!!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/02/06 at 1:18 am

WARNING: Mild coarse language

Bitch

http://d.whyville.net/whytimes/archives/images/adobe/309-thumb.jpg

Bichon Frise, Chi-Poo
Bichpoo, Shih Tzu
Bitch bitch bitch bitch
Bitch bitch bitch bitch

Doodleman Pinschers, Doodleman Pinschers
Connhounds, Basset Hounds, Affenpinschers
Doodleman Pinschers, Doodleman Pinschers
Connhounds, Basset Hounds, Affenpinschers

Cheeks, Cheeks, Finnish Spitz
Pointers, Sniffons, Bullmastiffs
Cheeks, Cheeks, Finnish Spitz
Pointers, Sniffons, Bullmastiffs

Bichon Frise, Chi-Poo
Bichpoo, Shih Tzu
Bitch bitch bitch bitch
Bitch bitch bitch bitch

Cocker Spaniels, Sussex Spaniels
Cocker Spaniels, Sussex Spaniels

Whoodles, Schnoodles
Poodles, Scoodles
Whoodles, Schnoodles
Poodles, Scoodles

Boxerdoodles
Shepadoodles
Goldendoodles
Weimardoodles

Labradoodles
Labradoodles
Labradoodles
Labradoodles

Bichon Frise, Chi-Poo
Bichpoo, Shih Tzu
Bitch bitch bitch bitch
Bitch bitch bitch bitch

Pekepoos, Pekepoos
Papoos, Papoos
Pomapoos, Pomapoos
Shih-Poos, Shih-Poos

Eskapoos, Lhasapoos
Malti-Poos, Cockapoos
Yorkiepoos, Cavapoos,
Westiepoos, Pugapoos,

Bichon Frise, Chi-Poo
Bichpoo, Shih Tzu
Bitch bitch bitch bitch
Bitch bitch bitch bitch

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/02/06 at 11:06 pm

WARNING: Some coarse language, content may offend.

It's The Old Doc's Knife For Us
to the tune of 'Hard Knock Life' from the musical Annie.

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/75/0/4/O/75040813O759101118.jpg

Audio (starts about 40 seconds in)


It's the old Doc's knife for us!
Ripped apart, chopped, sliced... poor us!
Cuz we're pre-nup, 'illegit',
With some scissors, we get snipped!
What a half-cocked fight!

All our mums were freakin' hos,
Ridden more than rodeos!
Phrophylactics had some holes!
Now her belly's got a bulge!
She's a knocked-up wife!

Don't you wish that you didn't get pulled out yet?
Just a dream that we'll get to stay inside!
Oh, there's nothing that we can do about it.
Their solution is committin' feticide!

Who could bear to exterminate a baby?
After birth, they would throw you in the clink!
But since I'm still inside a pregnant lady,
It aint called 'dying' if you have me made extinct!

Ohhhh!

Pregnant-bellied wife!
Isn't really blithe!
That a doctor's knife?
We're in f***ing strife!

Menopause she thought she'd reached.
Now my birth she's gonna 'breach'!
My existence is a glitch.
Mother wants abortion. (Bitch!)

It's the old Doc's knife for us!
Ripped apart, chopped, sliced... poor us!
Suck our bodies from her vag,
Then whack on a 'Pro Choice' badge!



*protest horn*
Back off, chaps, cuz this bump's mine!
I do what I want with my body!



Please consider my bod, then!
Toss me in the paper bin?
Don't you think it is a sin,
To kill off your next of kin?



Scalpel, nurse!


Rip their heads!


Drag them out 'dead-first'!


It's the old Doc's knife for us!
Ripped apart, chopped, sliced... poor us!
Who'd have thought this comfy womb
Could so soon become my tomb!

Like a Warbucks plight,
We have not got rights,
What a f***ed pre-life!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/04/06 at 2:30 am

WARNING: Mature theme, some coarse language

Nightmare

http://www.cs.cmu.edu/afs/cs.cmu.edu/user/astro/mosaic/JEDERMANN/horror.jpeg

I'm a mite queer, get a slight scare
I'm a fright, yeah, like a sprite here
Coming quite near to ya, right dear?
I incite fear, I'm your nightmare

Nib Oswald has to be dealt with,
My raps are a horror to see
I strap on a chastity belt, bitch,
And swallow the key
This chap's so bastardly selfish
He'll nab a stolen TV
Perverted, dirty, dastardly, hellish,
He craps on, so ornery

A hollow, thoroughly snapped mind wallows in the obscene
Morbidly following huddled teens through shadows on Halloween
Soon my chloroform handkerchief will stop them causin' a scene
During my immoral sordidness, so they won't holler and scream

Once they're under, I'll roll 'em on their stomachs asleep
Steal what dollars are on 'em and start unrollin' their jeans
If oral's heavenly, an a**h*** is Apollo 13
And you can't call out when you're struggling to swallow this cream

I'll come... but if they 'come to', they'll be smothered again
Gored with a cleaving knife, covered in a bloody sheen
Bleeding streams freely as I hold 'em up to a tree
My cheap gold teeth often colour swollen areolas green

I'm a mite queer, get a slight scare
I'm a fright, yeah, like a sprite here
Coming quite near to ya, right dear?
I incite fear, I'm your nightmare

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/06/06 at 10:38 pm

WARNING: Mature themes, content may offend

Nothin' Suss

http://static.flickr.com/4/4993587_296a425b0f.jpg

As a swimming teacher I have been credited to help out with
Undressing your little kiddies to get them into their outfits
So just chill out, quit your yelling, man. It's all totally cool
Most young children need a helping hand to float about the pool
I give classes on chest massages as a practise demonstration
Then for drowning situations, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation
Got your daughter underwater blowing bubbles, nothing naughty
Afterwards, I'll run a bath to wash the chlorine off her body

Don't be curious, don't be dubious
Your suspicions are crude and ludicrous
Nothing iffy, y'all. Nothing shifty, y'all
Not unorthodox, it's all typical
Acting warily, acting charily
These are normal acts ordinarily
Look at us all queer, gawk and fuss and leer
How prespammersite, there's nothin' suss down here!

Welcome! Step inside my humble home. No need to look furtive
I've redecorated with a 'fingernail drag mark' motif
The rug? Well, my pet dog went and peed upon my new carpet
Which explains the dark stains and smell of bleach through my apartment
Enter into the living room and I'll serve homemade wine
Rent is blooming expensive, so I severed my phone line
Now, here's my cellar where I'll demonstrate clever experiments
On dismemberment and effectively veiling the evidence

They say that where there's smoke, then there never is a fire
They say that if you smell a rat, a rodent aint nearby ya
So if you feel suspicious, don't call up a cop or lawyer
There's nothin' suss down here, ya hear, it's all just paranoia!

I'm a complete heterosexual, I last after females
Those Kylie, Streisand and N*sync CDs are all from sales
I only wear kimonos to sneak into zananas
And who doesn't like salamis, hotdogs and bananas?
I need perfumes, exfoliating creams and masks of sludge
Cuz it's hard work at confection factories packing fudge
Why do you think I'm a fag waving the flag-o'-spectrum?
Hurry up, girl, get that strap-on thrusting up my rectum

Don't be curious, don't be dubious
Your suspicions are crude and ludicrous
Nothing iffy, y'all. Nothing shifty, y'all
Not unorthodox, it's all typical
Acting warily, acting charily
These are normal acts ordinarily
Look at us all queer, gawk and fuss and leer
How prespammersite, there's nothin' suss down here!

I'm a Muslim in a turban with a long and scruffy beard
Simply strolling through suburbia, I'm doing nothing weird
I just happen to come from a rather warm part of Iraq
So I'm wrapped in a large summer parka walking through your park
Those vans slowly patrolling the block are of no in-ter-est
Nor is my suitcase with the handcuffs to ornament my wrist
It may seem I'm infuriated, raging hateful choler
Mate, that's the way Arabians were trained in praising Allah

They say that where there's smoke, then there never is a fire
They say that if you smell a rat, a rodent aint nearby ya
So if you feel suspicious, don't call up a cop or lawyer
There's nothin' suss down here, ya hear, it's all just paranoia!

Don't be curious, don't be dubious
Your suspicions are crude and ludicrous
Nothing iffy, y'all. Nothing shifty, y'all
Not unorthodox, it's all typical
Acting warily, acting charily
These are normal acts ordinarily
Look at us all queer, gawk and fuss and leer
How prespammersite, there's nothin' suss down here!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/07/06 at 2:09 am

Homophobe

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/76/6/3/O/76636544O478008310.jpg

The old King's air is full of heir
But has a flare for wearing flairs
He shirked the fair to joust? Not fare
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah.

He shaved the hare off his pet hair
It ran off bear past a brown bare
Then stopped to stair at the top stare
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah.

Can parents pear pares of ripe pairs?
Ask we're ware meant to where our wears
Down they're I swear their none of there's
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah.

She said that eye should dry my I
And lye down in a tub of lie
Eat tie and wear a lilac Thai
Must di my die before I dye

Recited pie then ate some pi
Said high to someone way up hi
I psi, mei my is shaped like sigh
By by, I'll bye it buy-and-buy

I gave a grown once I had groan
Our Prince was throne onto the thrown
And then was shone the light which shown
He went a loan to get alone

A flee got sprayed and had to flea
I C it sea-saw by the see
Drink tee then tea off, bee a be
My pea is greener than a pee

I'll have to mo off my long mow
And soon I'll toe off my big tow
I fed a dough some fresh baked doe
Then killed a hoe with my new ho

I ate a foul that tasted fowl
Broke off a bow and took a bough
Then sprinkled flower atop a flour
I think that hour train's late one our

I found some led where I was lead
Was born and bread on raisin bred
I seed my grains of harvest cede
Been knead real hard? You kneed to need

Is it read or is it read?
Is it sow or is it sow?
Is it lead or is it lead?
Is it bow or is it bow?

Is it live or is it live?
Is it row or is it row?
Is it tear or is it tear?
I don't know which, anyhow!

Homonyms
Hummin' hymns
Homonym
Harmin' him
Homophones
Harm oaf owns 
Oh my, I'm a Homophobe

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/09/06 at 8:09 pm

WARNING: Some coarse language

Paradox

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/77/8/4/O/77841531O904640489.jpg

Life; your everyday stereotypical epitome
Considered a single satellite aligned in syzygy
Find the root of minus point-nine-nine then times infinite
It's the difference between that integer and the Trinity

Misted figures swim through a fractured mirror of perception
Kisses beckon from infected lips of rigor complexion   
Witnessing disfigured scar tissue split under dissection
Broken clocks strike thirteen on February the 32nd

A canary locked up in a birdcage carved out of glass
Laughs his f***ing ass off merrily whilst coughing on gas
With the air that softly wafts from every puff as his last
Eyes, a lidless coffin buried once the suffering's passed

Walked the forest of immortal souls who were calling me 
Gazed in awe at all the carcasses of fallen old trees 
Slowly swallowed by an aura of cold, morbid disease
Squalls of horror screeching, freezing me to the hollow breeze

Scattered contents of my head shattering under the pressure
Thresholds mesh and tattoo paradoxes into my flesh here
Battling my sanity, breath fails to capture what matters   
Babies lay inside grey cradles playing with their death rattles

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/10/06 at 2:49 am

WARNING: Some crude humour

Genetically Modified

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/77/8/3/O/77835574O865118404.jpg

When your ears of corn have grown ears
When your frickin' egg white's black
When your onions cry their own tears
When your chicken leg bites back

Are there eyes on your potatoes?
Does it bounce when your peach falls?
Are the size of your tomatoes
Forty pounds, like red beach balls?

When green peas taste just like peanuts
And your peanuts taste like nutmeg
When your plums are at their greenest
And your runner bean has got legs

Are your boysenberries spitting purple poison?
Do your mulberries have unbreakable skins?
Are your loganberries always warm and moistened?
Do your huckleberries have enormous fins?

Your Jerusalem parsleys all have stigmatas?
When you cut open your rambutans, they bleed?
So you’ve been mugged by guerrilla avocados,
And now know why 'bladder seed' is called a 'weed'!

Fat nectarines!
Flat tangerines!
Tall mangosteens!
Small aubergines!
And green adzuki beans containing nitro-glycerine?

Chickpeas with dicks and giant nuts
Fruit peels that heal over their cuts
I’m gonna chunder up my guts
These GM foods are way too suss
Is mustard meant to taste like pus?
Or peaches have contagious fuzz?
Or bulbs have forty watts and buzz?
These GM foods are way too suss

In the freezer do your snow peas still get sweaty?
Do your sesame seeds count from one to ten?
Does your oregano eat up your spaghetti?
Can you burn moles off your skin with your cayenne?

Have your gooseberries hissed when you try approaching?
Do your whortleberries chortle at your jokes?
Have your strawberries caught fire whilst you were poaching?
Do your raspberries get throat cancer from your smokes?

Does your cucumber shout "L'chaim!" when you dice it?
Does one drop of lemon juice burn through your tongue?
Do your black-eyed peas remix Vanilla Ice hits? 
Have your mung beans ever had a pair of lungs?

When you're stuffing poultry, is the basil faulty?
Does your mace always spray up into your face?
Does your pepper always taste as if it’s salty?
Do your garlic hang upside down and have fangs?

Don't have to smoke your cutmeats
They're already puffin' tokes
But you have to choke the heartbeats
Out of your artichokes
Need a chainsaw just to cut beets
And your eggplants all have yolks

Do your blueberries scream out like wailing klaxons?
Can your currants give you bad electric shocks?
Are your blackberries whiter than Anglo Saxons?
Do your cranberries scurry around the box?

Are your green grapes twice the size of any grapefruit?
Do your coconuts contain chocolate milk?
Does your apricot have more hair than an apesuit?
Do your chillies strangely spin a lot of silk?

Oh, your lima beans all have Peruvian accents
When you go to chop your carrot up, it squirms
Your rockmelon has a face like Michael Jackson’s
And your apples always tend to eat their worms

Are your pomegranate rinds as hard as granite?
Do your mandarins canter like antelopes?
Do your pears looks like they’re from another planet?
Have you ridden on your bucking cantaloupes?

Frankly, your stone fruits are Frankenstein organics
Foods will taste healthy and natural no more
When those blimmin’ scientists screw with botanics
Then we never know what we will have in store!

Chickpeas with dicks and giant nuts
Fruit peels that heal over their cuts
I’m gonna chunder up my guts
These GM foods are way too suss
Is mustard meant to taste like pus?
Or peaches have contagious fuzz?
Or bulbs have forty watts and buzz?
These GM foods are way too suss

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/11/06 at 8:35 pm

WARNING: Mature themes, coarse language, content may offend

The Gay I Am
to the tune of 'The Way I Am' by Eminem

http://www.keywesttravelguide.com/gay-flag.gif

Hot leather.
Gay with satin on.
Raul, turn the heat up a little bit.
Ayo, this thong can fit anyone.
F****ts... drop soap in prison.

Gay-o, I sit back as a f** dressed in drag, make you gag
On your mead. So take heed, I'm not seated for wees.
Got a penis you see. And this... oh, this urge to wear furs
And a skirt with my purple man-purse.
I watch Bert's hot adverts in my Bar-bara-knit shirt.
And use gel on my curls, can't you tell? I believe
In the lessons of fashion we lecture in
Fitting that ass in a sequinned dress decently
Stuffing your chest with fake breast implants easily.
And we squeeze in fat feasibly. Can you?
We weave your wardrobes out of fleece. See, this coat made of tweed?
You concede that our streetwear is gorgeous.
So hot and tres chic to me.
I don't know you but, oh, that kimono's designer! Those earrings
Are just as endearing as fox-fur on pure mink.
Your butt is heavenly, I give it a flick.
Is my wig put on straight or quite queerly?
Foundation is smearing and tiffs about wearing white lipstick are blaring.
Tease your hair as you wear your mascara, it's normally sky blue.
So call me a p***ter, stylising your suit.
I'll smile and then snort as Queer Eye does your wardrobe.
Oh my, that's so ugly!
I'm a queen who demeans you. My dream frippery is a scream.

Cuz I am a lover of Dame Streisand.
In the closet: designer's top labels crammed.
Getting facials with dudes wearing knee-high pants.
Ladies? Oh, don't even try it, man.

Cuz I am a lover of marjoram.
And I'm buzzing when guys cook a Cajun lamb
Add the cayenne, the cloves and then shake the pan.
Kylie knows it's just the gay I am.

Sometimes I just feel like a lover.
A date with your brother... then all of your closeted cousins.
But no, "These satyrs are an offense, it's wrong when you smother
Your buttocks with cosmetic products."
And all of these conservative jerks agree,
That gay freaks are all idiots and He cannot freely swap rings with a He.
What's the point, call drags f****ts yet love seeing chicks in their threes.
And a ring for two mums? "Sorry huns, but move on.
We just don't give a stuff if you two are in love."
They're just all stunts you pull for publicity news.
Yet we're lewd getting bullied and duped by your rules?
Priest is gay? You're hysterical.
What a clerical error- a terror, that.
Call an air attack.
Little old heteros cower from f****ts, see, powerless enemies.
And such audacity, "Can't we keep stabbing them?"
"Man, that f**'s feminine and that chap is gay."
S*** on GLAAD cuz the freedom for you to conceive babies via
A sperm, we've adjourned til a guy has you girls.

And I am a lover of Dre and Stan.
Don't discuss it, cuz guys shouldn't say that plan.
There is rape and abuse among straight husbands.
But homos don't even get a chance.

And I care for children at Daycare Land.
Never cussing, nor violent, I play with them.
But defaming rumours cause false tales to span.
Eyes are all accusing gay guy's hands.

I'm so sick and tired of queen-bashing riots
And guys on Queer Eye with their stereotyping.
We've dropped all the racists but plopped out new fascists
Erupting when cable eats up Will and Grace shows.
I'm pigeonholed as just excessively dating then exfoliating and dressing like ladies,
But I just do not get this hating.
Can't deal with bad luck with the ladies so you pick on a f****t
Who just tries to walk past but you stalk him, attack him and jab til he falls.
Highschool hallways for factions of lame, cocky a**holes.
So cruel and so hurtful to dudes doing nothing.
This mind-set grows up to the men you are now.
You're still crapping on, yeah, about lesbian cows.
All you guys and your ladies.
I can't take it, your scathes always chase us each place and event.
Get a faceful from every man in the tent.
And I can't even get in a bathroom without someone branding intent.
You know I don't like your portly ass so don't call out, you hassle us f**s.

Cuz I can be clever as straight guys can.
If my lover's a guy, shouldn't change your stance.
Quit your hating, get used to the gay guy clan.
Pity you don't have the balls to, man.

Cuz I can't get used to the Straight Eye span.
Have you got it? No bi or asexual pants.
Love my make-up, my shoes and my lack of pram.
I don't know, it's just the gay I am.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/19/06 at 2:26 am

Beautiful

http://cloudking.com/artists/caryn-drexl/works/dirty-pretty-things_l.jpg

Oh what a beautiful morning!

It's a good morning, beautiful day.
It's a beautiful day, don't let it get away.
Some kind of beautiful will come your way.
You are beautiful no matter what they say.

Beautiful is empty, beautiful is free.
Leave me unholy and dirty and beautiful be.
At my most beautiful, I count your eyelashes secretly.
Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me.

Beautiful, if you could only see.
You were beautiful upon the keys.
O beautiful for pilgrim feet.
O beautiful for patriot dream.

O beautiful for heroes proved in liberating strife.

Just look into that beautiful blue, that beautiful blue, blue sky.
You're so beautiful I can't believe my eyes.
You make me feel so beautiful, feel like I could die.

It's a beautiful world we live in, a sweet romantic place.
Two little beautiful girls lookin' puzzled, in a daze.
Beautiful loser, where you gonna fall?
I want you and your beautiful soul.

It's a beautiful noise going on everywhere.
Girl, you're beautiful. Shorty let me touch you right there.
We live in a beautiful world. Yeah we do, yeah we do.
If you say my eyes are beautiful, it's because they're looking at you.

You're so damn beautiful.
Yeah, she's beyond beautiful.
Look at us, we're beautiful.
Beautiful colors are very very meaningful.

You're beautiful the way you are.
The most beautiful girl in town.
And beautiful feelings are starting again.
Beautiful, I just want you to know.

Beautiful people, the beautiful people.
Beautiful losers, you beautiful losers.
Such a beautiful disaster.
We make beautiful madness.

I'm beautiful, I'm beautiful, I'm beautiful, dammit!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/20/06 at 2:22 am

Language Of God

http://blog.doctissimo.fr/php/blog/dreaming/images/fallen%20angel.jpg

stheendes allein, as the ends of the world entwine
sky melting into the brine of an unfurled mind
freeze the clock for a moment and let Zeit sthet noch
verlorene Seelen in the pasture of the wandering flock
der Haken eines Shepherds liegt defekt im Boden
the loam erodes slowly away as broken minds now split open
snowed-over eyes implode and corrode from the odes spit by Odin
lids sewn shut by the woven tapestries of baptist covens
negro ojos vendados ensure a whitewash of devotion

sto filando all'interno dell'esistenza
vita, morte e tutta in mezzo
spat sulla luce che lo guido con la nerezza
mis palmas ahora se clavan juntas en rezo
Greifer von Apathie constrict um meine Kehle
virgins sacrificati alle stelle
i miracoli precipitano come i fiocchi di neve sulla mia pelle
but my blistered flesh still peels from the fissures of hell
al diablo me entrampo, gripped inside my own empty shell
engulfed in the smell of sulfur, swallowed up below the swell
holymen solemnly ring my golden knell
farewell, my Lord, farewell

mi mente derrite en invierno
mi mente se arrastra abajo en infierno
taches de sang sur la robe d'un enfant de choeur
criqué soyez le nom de mon coeur creux

doigts recherchent par une pile d'aiguilles
la paille qui a cassé l'épine du chameau

estoy parado en una montaña quebrada del dolor
to wash coal from the stars with more solar colours
solid rock, stolid rock crumbles to sordid squalor
afferri un panno per pulire le mie insicurezze dal altar
zupfen Sie die Flügel weg von den Engeln und passen Sie sie auf zu fallen
in diesem emptiness kann niemand Sie scream hören
thoughts steal away into the night until the darkness is stolen
calling, crawling through my fears with fingers fractured and swollen

blinde martyrs, stumme Prophets und ich sind zur Welt taub
maldiga a diablo! was geschah meinem Glauben?
esisto? capisco? ¿veré siempre a través del cielo?
me rachèterez-vous, long after I choose to go?
guidacarte rotti, promesse rotte, sogni frantumati
rotten bibles line the gutters tattered into confetti

essen Sie mein Fleisch, gluttonous Kinder, unt getränk mein Blut
schlucken Sie die scriptures, et boisson en bas d'un verre de doute
berührt durch die eisige Hand des Gottes
un démon hurlant de l'intérieur de mon coffre
I cough upon the darkness I suffer
un pie en el sepulcro, one hand upon my coffin
will my fall be softened by the wings of an angel?
questions without answers, Antworten ohne Fragen
farewell

I turn around from the climb of divine aesthesia
and begin a descent into mind amnesia
huelgas de relámpago contra el steeple de una iglesia
ich trete die Straße reiste weniger, as this path is easier
verloren unter einer Menge der Schafe
as stricter scriptures start constricting and chafe
comment un leper peut-il prier quand il n'a aucune main?
how can a man believe in a divine plan?
ever since time began, the span of the land was too far to tread
and in the end even God will be dead

wenn ein Baum in einen Wald fällt
y nadie debe alrededor oírlo
s'est-il jamais produit?
wenn ein Tag, Menschlichkeit heraus stirbt
tan nadie puede ver a dios
est-ce que quelque chose a jamais existé?

God is shouting honesty, a whispering Satan impugns
Doubting Thomas fingering Jesus' zounds

I stand alone in a madman's dream
beside the earth, the sky, the stream
a beam of light shines from sky supreme
as I set fire to a bush just to listen to it scream

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/20/06 at 11:04 pm

Language Of God (translated)

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/81/9/7/O/81970311O418905416.jpg

I stand alone as the ends of the world entwine
sky melting into the brine of an unfurled mind
freeze the clock for a moment and let time stand still
lost souls in the pasture of the wandering flock
a shepherd's crook lies broken in the soil

the loam erodes slowly away as broken minds now split open
snowed-over eyes implode and corrode from the odes spit by Odin
lids sewn shut by the woven tapestries of baptist covens
black blindfolds ensure a whitewash of devotion

I am spinning inside existence
life, death and everything between
spat upon the light which guided me through the darkness
my palms now nailed together in prayer
the grip of apathy constricting my throat
virgins sacrificed to the stars
miracles precipitate like snowflakes onto my skin

but my blistered flesh still peels from the fissures of hell
the devil has me captured, gripped inside my own empty shell
engulfed in the smell of sulfur, swallowed up below the swell
holymen solemnly ring my golden knell
farewell, my Lord, farewell

my mind melts into the winter
my mind crawls down into hell
licking the blood from the robes of an altarboy
shattered be the name of my hollow heart

my fingers search through a pile of needles
for the straw which broke the camel's spine


I stand atop my mountain of pain
to wash coal from the stars with more solar colours
solid rock, stolid rock crumbles to sordid squalor
grab a rag to wipe my insecurities from the altar
pluck the wings off of angels and then watch them fall
in this emptiness, no-one can hear you scream

thoughts steal away into the night until the darkness is stolen
calling, crawling through my fears with fingers fractured and swollen

blind martyrs, mute prophets and I am deaf to the world
curse the devil! whatever happened to my faith?
do I exist? do I understand? will I always see through the sky?
will you redeem me,
long after I choose to go?

broken testaments, broken promises, crushed within dreams
rotten bibles line the gutters tattered into confetti
eat my flesh, gluttonous children, and drink my blood
swallow the scriptures and drink them down with a glass of doubt
touched by the icy hand of God
a demon howling from inside my chest

I cough upon the darkness I suffer
one foot in the grave, one hand upon my coffin
will my fall be softened by the wings of an angel?
questions without answers, answers without questions
farewell

I turn around from the climb of divine aesthesia
and begin a descent into mind amnesia
lightning strikes against the steeple of a church
I tread the road less travelled
, as this path is easier
lost within the flock of sheep
as stricter scriptures start constricting and chafe
how can a leper ever pray if he has no hands?
how can a man believe in a divine plan?
ever since time began, the span of the land was too far to tread
and in the end even God will be dead

If a tree fell in a forest
and nobody was around to hear it
did it ever happen?

If one day, humanity dies out
so that nobody can hear God
did anything ever exist?


God is shouting honesty, a whispering Satan impugns
Doubting Thomas fingering Jesus' zounds

I stand alone in a madman's dream
beside the earth, the sky, the stream
a beam of light shines from sky supreme
as I set fire to a bush just to listen to it scream

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/21/06 at 1:10 am

WARNING: Adult themes, crude humour, some coarse language.

Writer's Block

http://www.unm.edu/~egsa/Images/wad_of_paper.jpg

I'm sitting at a table with my pens and papers out
But inspiration's failing to appear
Each new pathetic, feeble concept slowly tapers out
My concentration aint found an idea

I scrapped my fable about queefing menstrual vapour clouds
And bovine labour laws in North Korea
Can't do my ode to Anne Frank as a zombie raping Krauts
Communication via diarrhoea?

Translated Hiragana into hieroglyphic Wing Dings?
I wrote a tale of boats and global warming... we're all sinking!
So Little Bo Peep bleached her sheep just to get the whitest flock?
Ate the other-other white meat? Man, I hate this writer's block!
A tsunami-victim taco? What the hell was I thinking?
Now I'm learning how to swear in barcode? Have I been drinking?
So King Midas masturbated to create the brightest cock?
Then he sold his golden semen? Man, I hate this writer's block!

Critiqued the gender roles forced on hermaphroditic worms
And asexual chunks of cheddar cheese
Progressed from 'underwater' methods to 'acidic' births
Can we call twins from Siam 'Siamese'?

I used to write a masterpiece-per-minute in my prime
But now I churn out crudity in spools
I even thought of turning the Mein Kampf into a rhyme
And of legalising nudity in schools!
 
I'm the apex phenomenon of gays, blacks and former nuns
I'm the apex phenomenon of AIDS sex, no condom on
I'm the apex phenomenon of hapax legomenon
I'm the apex phenomenon and lame texts keep comin' in!

Translated Hiragana into hieroglyphic Wing Dings?
I wrote a tale of boats and global warming... we're all sinking!
So Little Bo Peep bleached her sheep just to get the whitest flock?
Ate the other-other white meat? Man, I hate this writer's block!
A tsunami-victim taco? What the hell was I thinking?
Now I'm learning how to swear in barcode? Have I been drinking?
So King Midas masturbated to create the brightest cock?
Then he sold his golden semen? Man, I hate this writer's block!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/24/06 at 12:06 am

Phantom Limb

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/83/2/0/O/83200550O297707173.jpg

Thin eyelids tightly capture the braille of night
Twin vials of life wrapped within veils of light
Tiny spiders spin papyrus skin pale and white
As a single violin wails a scale of plight
My eyes glistening, blinking listless drips
Twinkling rivers shiver down your crystal chrysalis
Grimace, sniff and force a grin, kiss my fingertips
Then gently press them to caress your lips
A single figure lingering in wisps of remeniscing
I simply wish to relive these wistful visions
Each bittersweet moment that I took for granted
But every memory's acid scented
Circumstance, chance; actions and consequences
Unfurling strands of romance conquered our senses
Dispersed and rended into cancers of forlorn lamenting
Cursed with rancid answers for our rotten ending

Bathed in a palette of grey, you lay so still
Body swathed in a frayed twill of jaded chill
I came today for you to break my anxious spell
Instead I stand naked before your vacant shell
Chained to an anchor, ill from pangs of guilt
Clinging the ring of an angel that I failed to smelt
Before this day of pain, this day of bane and hell
Before the day your grace would be bade farewell
Silt engraved into my face as anguish spills
Onto sterile lace folds of your faded quilt 
Mental rage cankers space with angry welts
My brittle mettle wavers, wilts, then wanes and melts   

Tear-stained eyes taint the stained-glass walls
A wave of nostalgia strains and falls
Inhaling flashes of the past like smelling salts
An empty rush, like gusts through abandoned halls
A shawl of dusted snapshots covers your dampened pall
Hush now, reach out and touch my lamented calls
Dance a waltz with me at the ball of departed souls
As the no-man's band starts a death march of gall
Scrawl a message of forgiveness in my heart's resolve
To dissolve this hole, absolve this Saul, it's all my fault

A new morning is born, the dewdrops cry in mourning of you
Forlorn and torn in two, no clues of warmth or dawning anew
The evil ether of the netherworlds could never sever
The love that we endeavoured together, it lives forever
Under the cover of breathless reverence, above the heavens
Your death weighs heavily inside, yet is as light as a feather

Wreaths of chrysanthemums embrace the steel of your wheelchair
Kneeling before you for a saddened hymn, I steal a stare
At your tender face framed in tendrils of ethereal hair   
Matted in surreal patterns, tinged with a matte teal, so fair
A flinch? A twitch? A wink? Placebos to help heal despair
You're the dandelion the wind picked out to steal away with air
A jasmine petal swept off before I could reveal and share
Random whims which whirl upwards where they wipe the ceiling bare
Swim through a madman's grim feelings slowly congealing in prayer
Like a phantom limb... you're gone, but still I can feel you there

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/25/06 at 2:09 am

The Meaning Of Life

http://www.metrocrest.org/assets/our_purpose/our-purpose.jpg

What's the meaning of life?

*42-minute-long instrumental featuring an Acoustic Guitar, Argol, Bandoneon, Banjo, Bassett Horn, Bassoon, Bongos, Bouzouki, Castanets, Celeste, Chimes, Clarinet, Claves, Congas, Contrabass, Cornet, Cowbell, Cuatro, Cymbals, Didgeridoo, Drums, Dumbek, Electric Guitar, English Horn, Euphonium, Flute, Flügelhorn, French Horn, Ghatam, Gong, Harmonica, Harmonium, Harp, Harpsichord, Kazoo, Keyboard, Koto, Lute, Lyre, Mandolin, Maracas, Marimba, Musical Saw, Oboe, Ocarina, Penny Whistle, Piano, Piccolo, Recorder, Saxophone, Sitar, Steel Drum, Synthesizer, Tabla, Tambourine,Timpani, Triangle, Trombone, Trumpet, Tuba, Turntable, Ukelele, Vibraphone, Viola, Violin, Vitar, Xylophone, Yazheng and Zithar*

How the hell should I know?

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/27/06 at 2:33 am

'Too Much Information' a 400 word university musing
As seen in The Word: Issue #7, 2006

http://plig.org/things/pictures/tn/leet_haxor_irc_keyboard.med.jpg

I opened the dictionary today.

abbrev. (abbr) abbreviation

How fitting.

Why the need to cull words in our language? Nowadays, from K-6 through to the HSC, Uni and beyond, we are bombarded with numbers, letters and symbols. In Maths, it’s all x, y and E=MC²; Science dedicates an entire table to abbreviating every substance on Earth; and English? Sorry, that doesn’t exist any more. Enter the world of Leetspeak, kiddies.

@ 8 ( |) 3 |= 9
|-| ! _] |< 1 ^^ |\| () |>
0_ /2 $ 7 L| \/
\x/ >< `/ and 2
Sounding like a crazy geek
Every time you write or speak


Our generation was witness to a spawn of eLanguage with a numeric aftertaste. Emails and SMSing revelled in proliferating typos and quick-fixes to laborious linguistics, conditioning us into our fast-paced world of telecommunications, commodified technologies and large corporations with little names.

DNA, R&J, CIA and Y2K,
LCD, GST, VISA, SWAT and KFC,
MTV, MP3s, IUDs and EMPs,
NYE, CFC, DOB and ADD,
IOUs, MSN, BBQs and S&M,
Radar, laser, AIDS, SARS, NASA,
Crazy phrases, they amaze us!


This language-of-short is so deeply ingrained that we rarely notice it. How often do you see ‘http’, ‘www’’ and ‘.com.au’; without even thinking of what they stand for? We are also bombarded with postcodes, ID numbers and password. We identify countries, states and assassinated presidents by initialisms. We are fed ‘Brangelina’, ‘Bennifer’ and ‘TomKat’ by Cosmo, ‘sitcoms’ by Channel 7 and the latest ‘info’from BBC, SMH and CNN. Our ears were raised on everything from Boyz II Men to U2, with the more recent sounds of 5ive, J. Lo and Linkin Park’s ‘Reanimation’offerings, such as ‘Kyur4 TH Ich’.Whatever happened to spelling, grammar and polysyllabism? Will I ever be able to use pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicavolcanoconiosis in a text message again? And would Shakespeare not roll in his grave at the thought of a contemporary ‘1uvz 1ay8/2/2 1()$7’?“w00t!herb ur so pwned 4thatiSH u=n00b Me= |-|o|\|3/2/2iFi(@BiLi7u|)ini7@7i8u$!!!11LMAO ;D **l00ni_2nz88**’

I guess Jesus was a big influence. Heck, the first thing you see in a Bible is a giant list of abbreviations. And where else do you think we got the whole BC/AD system. ‘Sesame Street Goes Dyslexic’? Nope, ‘twas our old pal, JC, of course.So who is ultimately to blame for the state of today’s language? The Internet? God? Humanity?
w/e, IMHO itz T.M.I. 4 me 2 (@/23.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Kate on 03/27/06 at 3:15 am

Funny spoof, but Tourism Aust. didn't think so. According to SMH they have closed down the site.

Mmm. Curious, cause your link still works.

Who says the Norwegians have all the fun? Long live freedom of offensive speech!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/29/06 at 2:32 am

WARNING: Some coarse language.

THE INTERVIEW

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/9e/No_13th_floor.jpg/160px-No_13th_floor.jpg

Dramatis Personae:
LEONARD: In his mid-twenties, dressed in a business suit and carrying a leather briefcase.
LINDA: In her early twenties, in neat casual dress.
KEVIN: In his thirties, but dressed like a six year old.

SCENE 1



LEONARD: Ah, no!



LEONARD: Could you hold the elevator?



LEONARD: Hey! Wait a minute!



LEONARD: You have got to be kidding me!



LINDA: Hold still, Kevin, there’s still some on your cheek.



LINDA: There we are. You can go press the button now.



LINDA: You only need to press it once, Kevin.



LINDA: Hello!



KEVIN: Seven… eight… nine… ten… eleven…

LINDA: Not so loud, Kevin, you’ll disturb the nice man.



LINDA: Kevin likes counting. He’s very good with numbers.



LINDA: Are you running late for a meeting?



LEONARD: Yes, actually, with the CEO of the corporation. I’m meant to be there in ten minutes and this damned elevator is taking forever to arrive.

LINDA: You could always take the stairs, they’re at the end of the corridor next to the toilets.

LEONARD: The head office is on the top floor. I hardly think taking the stairs is appropriate.

LINDA: Oh. Sorry. I was only trying to help…



KEVIN: Four… three… two… one.

LEONARD: Finally.



LINDA: Press the top button, Kevin. We don’t want to hold up the man from missing his important meeting.

KEVIN: Floor… eight… een… C… E… O… Hen… der… son.

LINDA: Well done, Kevin!



LINDA: (to LEONARD) Linda, by the way.

LEONARD: …pardon?

LINDA: My name. Linda Atkins.

LEONARD: Oh.



LEONARD: I’m Leonard Grey.

LINDA: Nice to meet you, Leonard Grey.



KEVIN: (loudly) I’m Kevin!

LINDA: So Leonard, you were saying that you had a meeting with Mr Henderson?

LEONARD: A job interview, actually. For a highly import-



KEVIN: Thirteen… thirteen… thirteen…

LEONARD: What’s going on?

LINDA: The elevator’s stopped.

KEVIN: Thirteen… thirteen… thirteen…



LEONARD: I can’t believe this!



LINDA: Try the emergency phone.

KEVIN: Thirteen… thirteen… thirteen…

LEONARD: Hello? Is anybody there? Hello?

LINDA: You need to flick the switch!

LEONARD: Switch? What switch?

LINDA: That red switch there. You have to flick it on before you can talk!

KEVIN: Thirteen… thirteen… thirteen…



LEONARD: Ow! It zapped me!

LINDA: Here, let me try!



LINDA: Hello? Hello?! It’s dead. The circuit must have blown or something.

LEONARD: How can it have blown a circuit? It’s an emergency phone for crying out loud!

KEVIN: Thirteen… thirteen… thirteen…

LEONARD: WILL YOU SHUT UP?



LINDA: Don’t yell at him!

LEONARD: I’ll yell at whoever I fudgeing well want to!

LINDA: Oh great, so now you’re going to swear at him?

LEONARD: I wasn’t swearing at him! I was… how can you… I mean, I’ve just been electrocuted by an emergency phone, I’m ten minutes away from the most important job interview of my life, and to top it all off I’m stuck in a fudgeing elevator with Little Miss Chatterbox and the King of the Retards!



LINDA: How dare you.

LEONARD: I’m sorry, that just came out…

LINDA: How DARE you!

LEONARD: Look, I didn’t mean that, okay? I’m sorry…. I am.



LEONARD: It’s just that I’m…



LEONARD: I worked seven years to get where I am today. Seven years. I had to sell my car and take up night shifts every night of the week just to support myself through university. I’ve spent half the year sucking up to every member on the executive here just to get this interview and travelled four hours this morning to get here. But, OH! The elevator has to go and break down on me. So you’ll have to excuse me if I’m not exactly at my most cheerful right now, seeing as I’ve just blown it all away for nothing. You don’t turn up late for an interview with a man like Mr Henderson.



LINDA: Look, Leonard. I’m sure they’ll reschedule your interview.

LEONARD: Yeah, for next year…

LINDA: There are still plenty of opportunities out there besides this one.



KEVIN: Em... er... gen... cy... ex... it.

LINDA: Not now, Kevin.



LEONARD: Wait a minute, what did he say?

KEVIN: It says on the wall there.



KEVIN: Em... er... gen...

LEONARD: An emergency exit! How the hell did I miss that?

LINDA: Well, come on then. Give me a hand to open it!



LEONARD: Oh, great. I'm not going to be able to fit through there!

LINDA: I think I can.



KEVIN: (to LEONARD) Are you looking at her arse?



LEONARD: No! I’m not… I wasn’t trying to… look, can you see anything out there?



LINDA: (shouting) I'm on a ledge. There's a ladder. I'll climb down and go get help!



LEONARD: Hey! Don't you think we should all just wait here for firefighters to come?



LEONARD: Hello?



LEONARD: Linda? Can you hear me?

KEVIN: I think she's gone down the ladder.



KEVIN: Uh-oh. Mr Leonard?



KEVIN: Mr Leonard, I need to go.

LEONARD: You need to what?

KEVIN: I need to go.

LEONARD: We can go as soon as Linda calls the firemen in.

KEVIN: No, I need to GO.

LEONARD: What do you mean you need to...



LEONARD: You need to go?



LEONARD: Now?



LEONARD: You can't go now! How can you need to go now? Just don't… you can't go now!

KEVIN: I NEED TO GO NOW!

LEONARD: Oh, for the love of...



LEONARD: Um... Kevin. Is it number... *sigh*... is it number one or number two?

KEVIN: Number one.



LEONARD: So long, future...



KEVIN: Hurry! I need to GO!

LEONARD: OK, OK, I'll just...



LEONARD: There you go. I'll hum until you've finished.



KEVIN: I can't undo it.

LEONARD: What?!

KEVIN: I can't undo my fly. It's stuck. And I really need to go!

LEONARD: I cannot believe this...



KEVIN: HURRY!



LEONARD: There! Your fly’s open. My briefcase is open. I hope you know how to do the rest.



KEVIN: I'm not stupid, you know.



KEVIN: It's OK, Mr Leonard, I didn't have to go after all.



KEVIN: Thirteen... … fourteen...

LEONARD: We're moving again!

KEVIN: Fifteen... … sixteen...

LEONARD: I can't believe it! We're...



LEONARD: I'm going to make it. I'm going to make it! I'm going to make the meeting!

KEVIN: Seventeen... eighteen.



LEONARD: Oh. Um... I have to get my meeting. So... you'll be right to just, stay there, right?

KEVIN: Can't I come with you?

LEONARD: Well... you see...



LEONARD: Fine, but we've got to be quick.



LEONARD: This is floor eighteen, isn't it?

KEVIN: Yeah.

LEONARD: Well, where is Mr Henderson's office? The only door here is for the staircase.

KEVIN: (in a deep voice) That would be because I don't have an office.



LEONARD: What?

KEVIN: I said I don't have an office, Mr Grey. I prefer to do my job interviews in the elevator.



KEVIN: It gives me the chance to see how well my prospective employees deal under pressure. Challenge their people skills. Test their ethical and moral fibre in a stressful environment. All attributes required to perform well in this field.



KEVIN: Needless to say, I think you passed, Mr Grey. I haven't had any of my potential employees ever offer me their suitcase before; how very resourceful of you. I'll, er, have Linda organise your office for Monday morning shall I?

LEONARD: Um... pardon?

KEVIN: Congratulations, Leonard.



KEVIN: You've got the job!



--END--

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/29/06 at 11:00 pm

WARNING: Coarse language

Folk

http://desertpastor.typepad.com/paradoxology/Profanity1.jpg

Eat my sheet
Drink my peace,
Eat my creep
Stupid beach
Dock-laquers
Coke-soakers
Ice-ficus
Dirty slats

Nougat nougat
Forgot forgot
Filthy count with giant tats

Eat my shirt
Drink my purse
Eat my crepe
Stupid birch
Deck-lockers
Cook-sackers
Us-focus
Dirty slots

Nougat nougat
Forgot forgot
Filthy count with giant tots

Eat my shot
Drink my pass
Eat my crop
Stupid batch
Dork-likers
Cake-soccers
Ace-fakers
Dirty slights

Nougat nougat
Forgot forgot
Filthy count with giant tights

Eat my s***
Drink my p***
Eat my cr**
Stupid b****
D***-lickers
C***-suckers
A**-f***ers
Dirty sl**s

N***** n*****
F***** f******
Filthy c**t with giant t**s

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/01/06 at 4:04 am

WARNING: Sexual references

Strip It Off, Girl

http://www.urban75.org/photos/gallery/images/pic101.jpg

Strip it off, girl
Let's get twisted and wet, uh
Strip it off, girl
Gettin' gripped in attraction
Strip it off, girl
Put them hips into action
Strip it off
But you'd best leave your hat on

Girl, you kick and you swirl with a dip in your steps
And you flip and you twirl, skin is glitterin' fresh
Yeah, you trip and you whirl and you're drippin' with sweat
Like a shimmerin' pearl with magnificent breasts
Give a swish of those curls with a flick of the neck
Let those switches unfurl from your glitterin' tress
A promiscuous bird, you're a vixen of sex
Is it wicked to perve on those vicious fishnets?
Now you're sippin' your third, I start lickin' your breath
I'm a frisson of nerves, you're too quick to ingest
You could split the whole world with one little caress
Simply give me the word and I'll give you a yes
You insistently flirt, press your tits to my chest
Reposition your curves like a kitten outstretched
You're emittin' a purr for my wicked intents
So delicious, it hurts like a whip to my flesh
We're both fittin' to burst as our whispers progress
You start kissin' me first, soon our lips are compressed
I'm unclippin' your skirt, you're unzippin' my vest
If you rip off my shirt then I'll slip off your dress

Strip it off, girl
Let's get twisted and wet, uh
Strip it off, girl
Gettin' gripped in attraction
Strip it off, girl
Put them hips into action
Strip it off
But you'd best leave your hat on

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/01/06 at 4:06 am

WARNING: Mild coarse language

Pump This Diction

http://www.bouldernews.com/extra/rave/graphics/raveblue.gif

It all starts with the pump of a raw tribal rhythm
The drum beats are vibing, your feet jiving with em
A rush of percussion through your vital system
It's crushing your senses like a riving schism

You flush and you writhe in a dire affliction
Awash in the lights, fire up the ignition
I'm driving the clutch to its highest position
Get wired and twitch from this siphoned addiction

Try touching the sky and rewriting the scriptures
Start dipping your brush and inscribing new pictures
Reciting old literature, lines getting switched up
Now cushion yourself in the sights you've envisioned

Your mind breathes insightful new ideas and writtens
Through psychoanalysis find propositions
Of bright possibilities blinding cognition
Forget em! We're live here tonight in this bitch, man!   

Yo, eyes up and listen, thrive on the friction
Each line that I spit on this mic's more nutrition
These jibes are bewitching, it's rhyme dereliction
Each line that I spit on this mic's ammunition to...

Jump! Jump! Jump!
(Beat thumps.)
Thump! Thump! Thump!
(Feet stomp.)
Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!
(Heads bump.)
Bump! Bump! Pump this diction and...

Jump! Jump! Jump!
(Beat thumps.)
Thump! Thump! Thump!
(Feet stomp.)
Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!
(Heads bump.)
Bump! Bump! Pump this diction, man.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/03/06 at 2:43 am

Heart Of Darkness

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/87/0/9/O/87092569O581333827.jpg

Beneath a bleeding cover of dishevelled trees with green needles
Where weevils breed and beetles eat bog myrtle stems, leaves and seedlings
Lean tendrils creep the dirt, leading to an abandoned cathedral
A dearth of Herculean girth standing alone and primeval
Birthed from the land, a cavernous church left besmirched and skeletal
Down in the sand, a lone serf who worshipped the curled, slanted steeple
Grieves in the foetal position, venally mourns this deceased hull
And screams himself to sleep underneath the world's surface, concealed

Within the fissured tissue of earth, visions unfurl in dreaming...
A steamboat travelling Charon's murky deep river of demons
Paddles carve the sea, churning the cadavers of murdered people
These apparitions turn to blurred nightmares, excisions of pure evil
A fatal incision of diseased wisdom spurts from its fissure
He awakes, caked in black turf from his somnorific position
Tasting forsaken words as they worm, snaking through his cognition
Horrific verbs germinate a jungle of decomposition

The man stands up, his feet cushioned by the marsh peat, thick and viscous
He trudges through sludge, knees congealing with mud, sticky and viscid
Brushes past prickles, reeds, rushes and weeds, his skin ripped and blistered
His fingers emerge from the midst of misted, twisted thickets
A corpselike figure, cankered ulcers carve apart his charred flesh
Mystery scorched into sunken sallow sockets, sparkless
His skin looks marred from infection, pockmarked with starkness
Scarred from shards of glass reflecting a heart of darkness

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/07/06 at 1:10 am

WARNING: Strong sexual references, coarse language

Harlot Juliet
to the tune of 'Hallelujah' by Leonard Cohen

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/88/6/5/O/88654523O884475570.jpg

Now I've heard about this freaky broad
Who spent all day on her knees, the whore
But didn't kneel for prayer; it's so she'd b*** you
This ho was sick, she coughed with drips
A grimy moll with mangy lips
She'd have a fling to use up all your moolah

Harlot Juliet
Harlot Juliet
Harlot Juliet
Harlot Juuuliet.

There came along a young weedy goof
Whose friends all claimed he was a p***
But Juliet was a forthright, pro seducer
Espied him by the kitchen stairs
Poor Romeo was not caught aware
And so they kissed... 'twas putrid as a sewer!

Harlot Juliet
Harlot Juliet
Harlot Juliet
Harlot Juuuliet.

"You say to take your 'sin' again?
Um... that's 'Hepatitis A'.
You'll get chlamydia, anal warts and crabs, too."
She amazed this guy with what she'd learned
She'd mastered mattress twists and turns
A-rollin' like a cookin' pig that's skewered

Harlot Juliet
Harlot Juliet
Harlot Juliet
Harlot Juuuliet.

Our hero dressed... then winced and clutched
At sores congealing around his crotch
No condom used; how could he be so stupid?
Poor Romeo, you've marred your shlong
Got transfixed by that harlot's thong
You must plan your revenge and have her neutered!

Harlot Juliet
Harlot Juliet
Harlot Juliet
Harlot Juuuuuuliet.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/08/06 at 4:46 am

WARNING: Mass payout theme

R&J Wrap-up Rap

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/89/0/0/O/89008427O301468863.jpg

Yo, yo, Jo Erskine's the person cursed with
Knowing every verse of the show, learned from rehearsin'
When it comes to lines of the script, Jo's no amateur
She's now stuck talking iambic pentameter!

Poor Tash had the whole blasted cast crash
At her pad, half-smashed, laughing, leaving trash
What a pity that in retrospect, she can compare 
How her rooms are messier now than when we were there!

Woah s***, listen close and accept no gimmicks
This production will only function with "No limits"
So be flexible, sexy folk, and we'll earn extra dough
Who cashed cheques by selling confec? Oh, Mexico!
 
Squeeze? Oh, please! This cheesy, diseased prudent sleaze
Has more fleas than a Chinese student.
Her nose is truly wet with drool and goolies... yet,
This floozy was still chosen as Juliet?

Next is Tony, the one and only Romeo moaning
That lowly woe-y, "Oh me" baloney.
Yo, homey, go grow a pair of globes, see,
Or your lamenting will sound more Feminem than Brattoni!

Oh, Patrick, the charismatic star of 'that flick'.
Theatrically melodramatic, erratically sporadic.
In the mirror he'll pose a smile that looks like gastric.
He's a model, too... the poster child of being spastic!

Lauren, Lauren, just stop whorin'
Yourself to foreign students in the Dramac quarum.
Ten cent coin on the floor? She'll dash and grab it.
The things she does to support her massive habit...

One day I was out on a wild safari
For dinner I cooked me a spicy curry.
Holy moley, need me a chemist in a hurry!
Quick man, give me four packets of Multari!

Tsonis, Tsonis, let's be honest,
The pronounciation of your surname is a darn bitch.
It's my one wish that change it. Go on, switch to John Smith.
Cuz your current name is like Romeo's tears... 'womanish'.

The second most ravishing man since taht devil Harry
Is Evan Terry... a Parisite trying to get Juliet to marry
She'd have merrily offered him her virginal cherry, of course
If he only sung out about how he's hung like a horse!

Oh drat, it seems my scatterbrained mind has spat
Every rhyme I can rattle off at y'all to sound all phat
So please don't get mad now I'm falling flat
'Matt Butt fartin on Nat Martin'... what the hell is that?     

Rodney bugged me to drop more of my oddly-
Written, sloppy ditties of rap; so apologies.
This hottie's forty-year-old body is so godly
Odyllic charm from Rod twinkles like pink on Courtney!

Speaking of damn gays, next up's Sam Hayes!
Amazing, how quick he switched to Queer Space.
We've got hot pics of him and Rodney pashing
How smashing, the two of you look so dashing...

Oh gosh, what can I say about Josh that won't sound racist or wack?
Um... ... uh... ...oh, just face it- he's black.
Goldberg...your name has no decent rhymes, you know.
So please proceed to these subsequent lines below.

If you plan to clean out your automatic shotgun,
Pray you don't hear "Oh yeah, it's a good one."
Next thing, you will be filled with shotgun shells.
Curse that belle blonde bombshell, Shell!

Lindsey, Lindsey, your tone offends me.
Why do you have to be so unfriendly?
Just cuz I'm Montague and you're a Capulet
Doesn't mean you have to hunt this stupid rapper dea- *blam! blam!*

Struth, it's Ruth, yet another young-'un youth
Aways goofing about in the change room booth
To tell you the truth, I don't know if she was Servant or Page.
Heck... I don't even think that she was ever on stage!

Joolz refuels her amazing coolness
By blazing up doobies in giant spools.
Some hecklers may claim that this is reckless
But the only sparklier 'joolz' you'll see are on a Chanel necklace.

Shameless Amy used R&J to seek Oscar fame
Her name in lights, glory and award acclaim
But conceded defeat to Frieda Lee
After that carpark performance done so speedily...

Tim Miller, scene filler, constant onstage swiller
From the makeup on his face, you'd think he starred in MJ's Thriller
His official work is what's written in dictionaries
You kiddin' me? That's my job, you frickin' geek. Stick to fiction, please!

Nads? Egads! Look at all the undergrad lads
Wishing to get a hit of that ass.
They pass Nadia's Arse around like grass, no question.
Check it, she gets blown more often than an orchestra's brass section.

Juicy Lucy seduces all with groovy prancing
And other flirty moves from Dirty Dancing
Now say " Three point one four one five nine..."
You get it? Yep... it's Shepherd's Pi!

Oops, I forgot that the crew needs props,
So listen up and suckle on these kudospops:
Rodney 2, the lucky dude,
Got stage work and some nookie too...
Emiko, I'm empty, yo,
Let's head off to McDonald's! Go!
Rachelle, ah, well, I tried... but hell,
I used up all your rhymes on Michelle...
I won't do the other members... no real problem, I loves 'em
Awesome effort... but it's just because the rest looked Muslim
And I hate to break it to those makeup chicks scoffing,
But it takes REAL skill to get caked up in coffee!
As for the musicians, Richie and that chick on the piano
Any more sexual chemistry and you would all just *click* KABLAMO!

That's it! The rhyme's completed! I could rap no iller!
I'll catch you guys later in the year to wrap up Godzilla!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/09/06 at 3:51 am

Cry For Me Again

http://www.healthynj.org/dis-con/postpartum/babyhands.jpg

From the first time you burst from inside of my body
And the nurse placed your squirming form beside my bed
Your life's birth was a curse writhing pale white and bloody
As a dearth of my worthlessness silently spread... cold and numb

My whole world started blurring, decayed into nothing
Lost my thirst for the mirth in the rays of your smile
Mind inverted, immersed beneath waves of self-suffering
And I spurned caring for you, to cradle denial... in my arms

Lost esteem and became a formless and caged demon
Drinking shame from a teeming cup of storming ire
I would blame all your screams for tormented rage steaming
Yet it seemed in my dreams I'd be warmed by the fire... of my pain

Through the weeks, endless shrieks from your throat rent my senses
Mind sapped weak and I tweaked, snapped and broke violently
That blind streak of me shaking you slowly condenses
As I wake now, forsaken, alone. Cry for me... cry again.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/10/06 at 1:32 am

Reflection

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/89/7/3/O/89731778O171548977.jpg

staring into the mirror
at a ten-year-old boy looking back at me
he takes his first bite of the apple
tastes sickly sweet juice washing over his tongue
sticky sweet drips dribbling down lips
and pooling about his chin
before the acrid caustic liquid acid
burns down his throat
he coughs and chokes
looking up at me
eyes burning with shame
as virgin lungs pump searing sin through virgin veins
poisoning every capillary and scorching skin
with frosted flame
his pride melting into salted tears   
that spill from scalded innocent eyes
asking how
screaming why
and whispering i don't know you any more

Subject: What is this?

Written By: baa on 04/13/06 at 5:34 pm


"..."

http://www.subgenius.com/bigfist/fun/devivals/Euro-SubTour2004/7Brighton/images/Euro7030-Mute-Stencil.jpg

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(That's right!)

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(But only on Wednesdays!)

... ... ...
(Yeah, he's a mute!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, the son of a mime!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, he's a mute!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, he's dumb all the time!)

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(And the camels, too!)

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(Watch your mouth!)

... ... ...
(On a double-decker bus!)
... ... ...
(Don't touch the green one!)
... ... ...
(Cuz it gets too heavy!)
... ... ...
(Sing it, my soundless brutha!)

... ... ...
(Yeah, he's a mute!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, the son of a mime!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, he's a mute!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, he's dumb all the time!)

(Oooooh!)
... ... ...
(Ooh bop bop!)
... ... ...
(Oooooh!)
... ... ...
(Break it down now!)

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(Oh!)

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(Uh-huh!)

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(Yeah!)

... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
... ... ...
(I'll have two of those!)

... ... ...
(Yeah, he's a mute!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, the son of a mime!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, he's a mute!)
... ... ...
(Yeah, he's dumb all the time!)


This doesn't, by any chance, have anything to do with our Guest friend who posts under the name Ellipsis ("..."), does it? I've seen that guy around here before. Just wondering.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/14/06 at 11:37 pm

WARNING: Some coarse language

What A Wonderful Day

http://members.aol.com/charmingvarmint/images/wiletate.jpg

I wake up, my black cat sitting there suffocating my face.
My alarm clock lays smashed on the floor, it's been knocked from it's place. (I'm late!)
The hot water is off, so I freeze half to death in the shower.
Get locked out of the house as I run to the line for a towel. (Oh, great!)

Climb back in through the window, skin grazed on the pane.
Kitty-litter'd? Oh s***, need to shower again.
But the water's now scorching, I'm scalded and dang... irate!

What a wonderful day! Hey!
Things going horribly.
All my contraptions collapse after warranty.
Farce of disaster in ev-er-y possible way!
What a wonderful day! Hey!
Things going terribly.
Everyday stuff goes arse-up incoherently.
Anarchy! Manic! Erratic! Oh, what can I say?
What a wonderful day.

All my clothes from the line are still damp after I put them on.
And I trip on the hose as I hurry back over the lawn. (What luck!)
Eggs have gone rotten, the milk's looking sour and green.
And I burn the last slice of my bread in the grilling machine. (Oh f***!)

Toilet plugs up and clogs, overflows to the floor.
As I rush out, my fingers get crushed in the door.
The same hose trips me up, oh this is the last straw... this sucks!

What a wonderful day! Hey!
Things going awfully.
Man, I had planned this weekend to be lovely.
Day lost in chaos and nothing will go my way.
What a wonderful day! Hey!
Things going lousily.
How all these foul acts amounted, astounding me.
Accidents happen, but packed into one? Oy vey!
What a wonderful day.

Oooh.
I crash both my cars.
Ahhh.
Too late to catch a train.
Oooh.
I get on the wrong bus.
Ahhh.
And so I missed my plane.

I lose my job at work.
Topple into a lake.
My laptop goes beserk.
Walk right into a rake.
Girlfriend calls me a jerk.
I ordered her gold-tipped carnations... not strippers, for tarnations saaaaake!

What... a... wonderful... day. Hey.
Things going messily.
Why am I wanted for murder in Sicily?
Credit card maxed out, get mugged, my hair's going grey!
What a wonderful day! Hey!
Things go horrendously.
This day has gone anything BUT stupendously!
Buried alive in the pet cemetery? Gay.
What a blunder-full...
An encumber-full...
What wonderful day!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/15/06 at 12:14 am

WARNING: Some coarse language, content may offend.

Happy Easter

http://www.electrika.ru/htf/wp/cuddles_1024x768.jpg

A long, long time ago
Even before Joan Rivers
There came along some average shmoe
Who claimed that he could give us
A way to cleanse our mortal flaws
So we could live forever
He died up on the holy cross
For our salv... salt... whatever.

Who gives a crap about a blabbing spiel from some deacon?
Jesus Christ died on the cross to give us a long weekend!
"But what of lent, repenting sins and-" Yawn! Too boring! F*** it!
Jesus Christ died so we could eat some rabbits, eggs and chocolate!

Shops are choc-a-block with stock!
Gotta gobblie it all up!
Swallow more... you just can't stop!
Munch! Crunch! Slurp! Burp!

Jesus died. (This one is filled with honey!)
Rose again. (Oh god, this tastes so yummy!)
Jesus died. (Quick, pass another bunny!)
For your sin. (I want more eggs now, mummy!)
Jesus died. (This creme one is so runny!)
Went three days. (I'm bursting out my tummy!)
Jesus died. (Church service? Ha! You're funny!)
And was raised. (Oh Christ, I need the dunny!)

Screw the reason, that loser Jesus.
Screw the priests, man, those loony geezers.
Screw cathedrals with stupid steeples.
Time to feast up... Happy Easter!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/18/06 at 5:50 am

WARNING: Sexual references

Virgin 2.0

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/92/6/0/O/92604776O616521582.jpg

You'll never see me topless with my panties crotchless
Because I'm like MC Hymen... you can't touch this
Watch it, Casanova, I'm not gonna let you botch this
Wanna push all the right buttons? Try Tamagotchis

Popping juicy cherries in your mouth? A crass hint there
You're a goose if you think you're heading south this winter
The only time I'm letting you stick that thing into me
Is if I insert first... a wedding ring for my finger, see?

When I start to lick a lollipop one afternoon
You have to excuse yourself to 'touch up' in the bathroom
Must you buffoons think of sex at the slightest detection
Of any objects slightly resembling an erection?

Hey, I'm a Virgin 2.0. So just stop, okay
Pack that 3 1/2 inch floppy away
You try to turn me on by double-clicking my mouse?
I aint no laptop amusement for you around the house
You won't download no virus and leave me infected
I'm afraid this screensaver is password protected
Feeling able to link up your cable? Hold it there
Not yet pal, so for now you'll have to stick with solitaire

Keep your mits to yourself, bozo, these legs here are closed ones
The most fun we'll have together... is with our clothes on
You're no gardener, yet your heart's set on deflowering
Your breath's sour, you smell foul... ever heard of showering?

You only want one little look? Only want one little taste?
I aint impressed when you suggest that I'll be 'going to waist'
It's not a race (though you'd come first and I'd be second placed)
Stupid men keep chasing me... I said I want to be 'chaste'!

Divide my hips and get us parallel by plugging in your digits
But then split if I'll multiply? And you wonder why I'm frigid...
So come on, get a hold of those turgid urges surgin'
You misheard, I'm not a whore, I'm like the ore... duh, virgin?

Hey, I'm a Virgin 2.0. So just stop, okay
Pack that 3 1/2 inch floppy away
You try to turn me on by double-clicking my mouse?
I aint no laptop amusement for you around the house
You won't download no virus and leave me infected
I'm afraid this screensaver is password protected
Feeling able to link up your cable? Hold it there
Not yet pal, so for now you'll have to stick with solitaire

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/19/06 at 10:27 pm

WARNING: Mass payout theme

TAS Freestyle

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/93/2/4/O/93247566O734015457.jpg

My fest and offensive jests are infectious
Infest your senses til you get indigestion
This pest is here, the question clearly begs it...
Why'd you all start edging to the nearest exit?

A psycho killer in this village mauling Jamie Bell
Maiming his skeleton, impaled cuz I

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/19/06 at 10:37 pm

WARNING: Coarse language, sexual references

Looong Wanksta Freestyle

http://www.abc.net.au/tv/heroes/img/daniel/dan_lrg.jpg

My songs are unfunny as runny logs busting ya dunny.
My brain spins cogs on honey, likea drunk bugs bunny. ("What

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/19/06 at 10:50 pm

I was nine when I wrote this. NINE. So I've kept in all the horrendous typos, grammatically incorrect switch from past-tense to present and YES, I am aware how much it sucks. (Heh heh, a little flea pun there.)

Flea-ing The Country

http://www.nuku.com/images/funny/fleaShot.gif

Once upon old grime there lived a putrid, disgusting little parasite named Bojo.

Bojo is a flea who loves to sit around a campfire with his mates and drink a couple of tinnies of O-positive. Here he is now, around the campfire with his friends on an alsation

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/19/06 at 11:20 pm

WARNING: Mass payout theme

Brat-to-ni
to the tune of 'Without Me' by Eminem

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/93/2/5/O/93259778O642177531.jpg

"Toni

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/19/06 at 11:28 pm

WARNING: Coarse language, mature themes

Duck For Cover

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/28/1/5/O/28158887O574106029.jpg

Inhale, first breath, a new tale of death.
Plaintiff sails off a cliff. Exhaled justice.
You failed the first test to scale the crest.   
Steel rails are thrust to impale your chest .
My avail

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/19/06 at 11:39 pm

Hairy Potted Freestyle

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/93/2/6/O/93263006O397443376.jpg

Hairy Potted is a very garotted individual
Vulvamork had wearily trotted to his syndicated duels.
Came out fairly battered, knotted, scarily rotted,
Half buried, watered blood very clotted, carried a stutter.
A fairy was dotted with varied blotted carrion fluid,
Alotted dairy butter with every hot body skewered.
Jerry Springer jotted down a marriage spotted, the air fluttered.
Gutted Harry Potter, cut-up Barry Trotter, shut up Hairy Potted!

June 2003

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/19/06 at 11:42 pm

WARNING: Some coarse language

Sheep Freestyle

http://www.maf.govt.nz/statistics/primaryindustries/livestock/slideshow/sheep-flock.jpg

Wicked rebellion of slick hellions in lock up.
Beer kings with earrings, tats and tuck ups.
You people are sheep when your peeps all muck up.
You aren

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/19/06 at 11:48 pm

WARNING: Coarse language

SPAM

http://www.electric969.com/images/full-mailbox.jpg

It

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/19/06 at 11:53 pm

Must've been 12 when I wrote this one. And that stupid Soccerball Philosophy crap got chosen over it. Lame.

WARNING: Mature theme, some coarse language

Kosovo

http://www.grandpoohbah.net/images/kosovo.jpg

I feel the warmth
of the mug of tea
as I sip it gratefully
from the kindess of a Russian stranger
as I flee Kosovo

No  family
apart from those I left
charred at home
as the bombs littered down

No friends
apart from the ones
strewn throughout the streets
with bullets infesting their corpses

No one
who even gives a s*** that I

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/20/06 at 12:25 am

WARNING: Mass payout theme

My Schooling
to the tune of 'Fight Music' by D12

http://www.accessgcc.com/Gif/aus-tas.jpg

Audio

This kind of school is useless trying to interest students
Whenever you hear Tim Scott your brain defuses.
And Mr Ball can cause snores in his Ag room class.
Reesy snoozes whenever asked to do tasks.
The type of stress you don

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/20/06 at 12:40 am

The Un-necessarily Cliched Adventures Of Oddly Shaped Head Man

PREFACE
The thing at the start of a book
that isn

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/20/06 at 12:49 am

CHAPTER 2

Later on at 31 Gosling Street:

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/20/06 at 12:52 am

CHAPTER 3.

The day had turned out OK. So far OSHMTBACG had helped an elderly man  back across the road that he had just walked over, saved a kitty from a tree and defended a lady from a mugger only to get robbed by the lady straight afterwards. They gave up and decided to retire home. As they were walking back, something caught Beau

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/20/06 at 12:52 am

Really Badd Guy quickly ushered the American model into the dressing rooms at the Arcade.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/20/06 at 1:22 am

Dark Eyes

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/93/2/8/O/93280941O142628157.jpg

round, dark eyes
never ending pits of darkness that engulf themselves
darting up and down the street
wary
frightened
confused.
people dart here and there
confusion
a staccato firing
screaming
bodies writhing in the street
blood

the wary eyes dart about, searching
the small figure stands stagnant admist the frenzy
of the scrambling, yelling crowd
sirens
noise
yelling
gunshots
all swirled into an amalgamated scene of chaos

the dark eyes are still darting to and fro
through the pandemonium
searching
no connection made
the dark eyes are yet to find their target
police are swarming into a building
loud firing
screams
paramedics carrying bags
of corpses into ambulances
men being beaten, cuffed and shoved into a van

the noise dies down
the cars leave
the mess is cleaned up
serenity and order are restored
the girl still stands frozen across the street
a small statue of fear
the dark eyes are still watching
searching
waiting
for her mother who will never be back to take her home.

February 2000

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/20/06 at 8:59 pm

WARNING: Mass payout theme

Uncomic And Lame
to the tune of 'Forgot About Dre' by Dr Dre feat. Eminem

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/28/1/6/O/28160327O578563478.jpg
Audio

Y

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/21/06 at 12:38 am

WARNING: Mature theme

Blue

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/65/0/7/O/65071012O989736995.jpg

Amelia’s ears buzzed in protest as a clattering roar of train wheels rent through her torpor, jolting her back into consciousness. She yawned as she straightened up in her seat before casting a bleary glance out the train window. A pale reflection in the tinted glass returned Amelia’s gaze, scrutinising her porcelain skin from behind two sunken sockets caked in dark mascara. Locking eyes with the girl, Amelia felt the corners of her mouth give an involuntary twitch. Her doppelgänger blinked triumphantly.
I win.
Amelia allowed herself a wry grin. Through the ghostly shade in the window, a distant barricade of city edifices panned idly across the horizon. Staccato flickers of light from the dying sunset winked through the gloom as each building passed. Amelia’s gaze shifted down to the train tracks below and she found her vision assaulted by a violent streak of grey, causing a cold wave of nausea to spread rapidly throughout her body. Amelia clutched her stomach tightly in one hand. She was shivering, but the flesh beneath her fingers was prickling with sweat. Warm… so warm. One hand remained firmly pressed to her abdomen until the unpleasant throbbing evanesced away into dormant warmth. Amelia combed back her fringe with her fingertips and began kneading her eyes with the palms of her hands. Red blossoms bloomed from inside of her eyelids. When Amelia opened her eyes, the sterile white of the empty carriage interior swam about her head. Amelia sighed and bent down to extract a battered notebook from her backpack. Her name had been plastered across the cover using letters cut out of magazines. The rest of the tattered pages were heavily tattooed with ink hieroglyphs. Amelia began leafing through the sheets of poetic graffiti, searching for an available niche of virgin white. Once a fresh page had been found, she lifted a pair of bulky headphones over her ears, sending a familiar pulse of distorted percussion into her ears. Within seconds, black ink was skating freely across naked parchment.

Perched atop a sparse encrusted peak, bride lost and meek
Eyes glossed over by droplets of an iced caustic leak
Her nose weeps, her throat frozen, closed tight, so hoarse and weak
Gossamer secrets exposed through her white glass mystique
Past held hostage, future forecasted, blind choice seems bleak
Seeds of horror bleed raw, needing a child’s voice to speak
Embossed in the broken pieces of Christ’s cross, a shriek
I must trust in frosted hope that my mind’s forced to seek

Amelia lowered her headphones around her neck and read over the verse sketched out in front of her. Combinations of words had been dissected, analysed and artfully grafted into fresh lines until the paper was etched into a chaotic scrawl. Only when looking through the page, like a Magic Eye, did the poetry take form. Amelia closed her notebook and cast another look out of the window. By now, the sun had been swallowed up by city towers, which loomed like the silhouettes of cloaked figures against an indigo sea of stars above. A speaker over Amelia’s head blared a crackle of static to announce the arrival of the train at its destination, before leaving her once more to her wash of silence. Amelia rose to her feet with a groan and walked along the aisle of bare seats to the train doors. The girl in the tinted glass was standing silently there watching her again, one hand clutching an identical backpack, the other gently massaging the perturbed skin of her stomach. Once the train had crawled to a stop, Amelia stepped out onto the platform without looking back.

Morning seeped into Amelia’s room with painstaking lassitude. Amelia had found herself awake in darkness stripped of her sheets, her skin damp with cold sweat and her head swollen with a thick miasma of sleepless unconsciousness. Submitting to this listless stupor, her eyes stonily watched through her bedside window as a gradual glow osmosed through the air, giving shape to the environs beyond. Eventually, tinges of colour bled through the dark to give textured form to what had previously been a black inkblot of infinite interpretation. The earth began to stir with an azure glimmer, an ocean of dew-frosted grass and leaves whispering back to the caress of a muted breeze. The distant wall of city towers activated with a low, steady hum, silhouetted against the birthing sky. Shrill shrieks of birds carried on the wind from trees afar, echoing into the dawning light without response. The kindled horizon began spreading a warm glow throughout the clouded heavens and daybreak slowly extended her golden verve to the world. Amelia lay unmoving in her bed, eyes raw and smouldering from insomnia, trapped within a cocoon of nothingness that had wrapped itself about her in triumphant capture. She felt no sense of time; life was blossoming before her, but each passing second seemed to become enveloped in the one before it, until all awareness of being became the one single ephemeral moment. It was an unfathomable aeon later that consciousness gradually crawled its way in through a curtain of oblivion and unstaring eyes blinked away their glassy fog. Amelia blinked again and lifted herself out of bed.

The icy kitchen floor bit at Amelia's toes as she entered. She watched her breath curling gently around her in delicate wisps before melting away into the frosty morning air. Amelia's head felt thick and heavy, as if encased in a layer of cement. She still felt an unsettling feeling within her stomach. As Amelia opened the refrigerator, a chill spread up along her arms to her body. She quickly raised her hand to her face and gave a violent sneeze. Withdrawing her hand away, Amelia’s eye caught the gleam of something dark smeared across the nape of her thumb. A moment later she felt a gushing hot stream of crimson seep down her lips, the sound of pattering droplets plopping dully against the linoleum floor. Amelia clamped her fingers around her chin and headed quickly towards the bathroom. As she entered, several droplets trickled out from between her fingers onto the white tiles below. Amelia spat into the sink, her tongue tasting a sour tang of warm blood. Hunched over the sink, Amelia held her hair back with both hands and allowed the nosebleed to run its course. Her temples throbbed painfully as each vermilion carnation bloomed from inside the pristine porcelain, until the coalescing rivulets of petal capillaries had formed a stolid puddle of red. Amelia twisted the tap, washing away the coagulating scarlet syrup with a vehement hiss. She scooped several mouthfuls of the algid liquid into her mouth, before cupping both hands beneath the flow and slapping the water across her face.
Amelia’s cheeks stung from the icy rush and flushed at her via her reflection. Once again, Amelia found herself looking into the eyes of the girl in the mirror. She carefully stroked away a loose strand of hair that was clinging to her wet forehead. The girl blinked and lowered her eyes for a split second to the small white box on the side of the sink.
It’s time.
Amelia blinked and followed the girl’s gaze. The white box had been placed atop a glossy blue pamphlet several days ago and had not been touched since, judging by the thin film of dust. Amelia stared unblinkingly at the small white box as a lone droplet of water crawled its way down from the tip of her nose and into the corner of her lips. She stood motionless for a moment, the soft gurgling of the drain slowly dying away into silence. Numb fingers gently unfurled and wrapped around the small brochure. Amelia lifted it into her hands, balancing with it the small white box. She was surprised at how light it felt. The girl in the mirror gave Amelia a meek grin before disappearing out of sight as Amelia turned to seat herself on the toilet. She placed the pamphlet carefully on her knee; its smooth surface caressing her cold skin. The white box rattled in her shivering hands as she lifted it closer to her face to read.
This product is for obtaining a qualitative assessment of early pregnancy.

An echoing drip from the bathroom tap resonated through the still air. Amelia’s eyes flickered back down to the blue pamphlet on her knee.
PREGNANCY: THE NEXT GREAT ADVENTURE.

Amelia snorted brusquely to herself and glanced back to the bathroom mirror, but the girl in the glass could not be seen. A sudden shiver spread its way up Amelia’s spine, raising the hairs along the back of her neck. Steeling herself to the task, Amelia gritted her teeth as her fingers pried into the small white box until the cardboard tore open, jolting her hands against her knee. The blue pamphlet cut silently through the air and slapped violently against the sterile white tiles below.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/21/06 at 4:45 am

WARNING: Content may offend

The Australian Spirit a 400-word university musing

http://news.bbc.co.uk/olmedia/925000/images/_926700_free150.jpg

350,000 inhabitants.
40,002 years of history.
7,686,850 km²  of Terra Nullius waiting to be used productively.

By 1787, New Holland was simply crying out for less mellanin and more felons in. Luckily, at the time, Britain had begun shipping off its social scum to the arse-end of the world. (Hence the term 'colonisation', derived from 'colon'.) January 26th 1788 marked the arrival of the First Fleet: civilisation. White New Holland began as a penal colony, so called due to males outnumbering females four-to-one. Women seeking employment were shunted into textile factories where they belonged, leaving important matters of government to the men.
In 1824, New Holland changed its name to 'Australia' via deed poll. Soon afterwards, the Crown Lands Act gave white settlers the right to purchase 320 acres of land for agricultural purposes, utilising Anglo-Saxon sciences which the evolutionarily-challenged Aborigines were unable to fathom. Europeans hence introduced natives to a superior way of life... as well as smallpox, influenza, measles and a pandemic of shotgun shells.
By 1900, Indigenous numbers had diminished by 90%. More important events of the era include the Gold Rush (bringing with it a fetor of Asians), the new century (bringing with it Federation) and, of course, ANZAC biscuits.

Concerning Aboriginal issues, Australia's government controlled childhood obesity by implementing Stolen Generation Weight Loss Camps and donating Rabbit-Proof Fences as exercising equipment. Furthermore, the discriminatory procedures used for non-white immigrants under our White Australia Policy ensured that a catcall of 'Coon', 'Abo' or 'Boong' to any coloured person out in public would not be accidentally directed toward a Paki, Gook, Chocco or N*****, causing offense by mistake. Following the American Civil Rights movement of 1965, Australia maintained its duties of US sycophancy by later granting Aborigines citizenship in 1967. However, Indigenous numbers had dropped so drastically by this time that Aboriginal votes were to hold no significant sway in any future elections.

The Commonwealth of Australia today continues to uphold Indigenous interests, by increasing fuel prices to deter petrol sniffing and always encouraging token corroborees at public functions. Indigenous people may be incarcerated at eleven times the rate of white Australians, but this keeps them safe from such dangers as bike-riding near fences. We just make sure they don't leave them alone with prison bedsheets any more, because... 'you know'... *Saddam Hussein impression*
Currently, 2.4% of Australians are of Aboriginal or Torres-Strait Islander descent. Thus, following 40,002 years of primitive Indigenous inhabitation, whitey has proven themself as a thriving introduced species within 119 years.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/23/06 at 5:06 am

One Love

http://img63.photobucket.com/albums/v191/cutypie/Made%20for%20others/DEPRESSION.jpg

Oh, my darling
Make a promise
That I’ll be the only one.

My lone soul sewn
Upon her solid, polished totem of armour
Emotions blossom
Blooming open like two roses in summer
Both slowly floating
On calm nothings through an ocean of ardour
But rolls of thunder rumble
Broken, our utopia crumbles
Composure tumbling numbly
Into pandemoniac drama
Engulfed in love’s stone-cold
Yet bubbling-hot ambrosia of trouble
Amour eroding, growing comatose
Motionless flows slumber
Open scars torn from lost devotion
Now moan sorrowfully, somber
Exploding warmth
Exposes marred, corroded bones of old couples
Those former lovers
Swallowed up by this Draconian karma
Burrowing through her hollow heart
My spawning odium harms her
It’s known in love and war
That one becomes the loneliest number.


I’m so sorry
From our chemistry
I cloned another love.

Rest pensively
Fermenting feelings wend like wisps from censored dreams
Transcending sense
These existential torments rent my mental seams
Ends ripped to pieces
Drips condense upon my lips, impending streams
Vent my misdeeds
Repenting greed to quench the need to end these screams
Please mend the peace
Our blemished friendship slips beneath a gentle sea
Descending deep
Entering ether scented with resentful grief
In which you seethe
Revenge is etched into your breath, a vengeful weave
Offensive schemes
Intended to be instruments avenging thee
And strength to keep
Your bleeding feelings of loss at arm’s length from me
An enmity
Under false pretense, we go to the nth degree
Pretending we
Cleaved ourselves from dependency and went out free
Suspend belief
And leave segmented hearts in distant memory.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/29/06 at 5:26 am

WARNING: Some coarse language, mature theme

Emo Kid



Everybody taunts me
Everybody shoves me
I look pale and gauntly
Everyone's above me
My emotions haunt me
Daddy doesn't love me
Nobody will want me
Are you thinking of me?

My hair is black and greasy, placed
Halfway across my pallid face
Got fake tattoos, a shoulder bag
And act like I'm a total fag
Emily Strange badges
Tight pants with frayed edges
Studded belts, dog collars
Ties that cost five dollars

I ask if heaven can exist
I still haven't ever been kissed
I'm bitter and I'm really pissed
I'm slitting up my bleeding wrists
A bruised recluse in Converse shoes
Confused, so won't converse with youse
Unsociable unnegotionably
Shun devotion and mourn emotionally

I'm all alone with my tears
They always stream slow
So insecure in my fears
Can't let my dreams flow
I'm ostracised by my peers
My feelings scream, oh
The angst inside of me sears
Emotions bleed woe

I've never felt any cheer
Got self-esteem? No
I don't drink spirits or beer
Just cappucinos
I've never worn bright blue gear
And can't make free throws
I'm always glum and austere
Being sixteen blows

My diary is held near
To write my bleak prose
"The Used" blares loud in my ears
My shirt's got three crows
My mascara is all smeared
I wear black jeans, yo
Remain a loner all year
My image needs foes

At highschool I am called queer
And well, it seems so
I've got my 'To Do' list here:
'Sulk, brood, muse, weep, mope'
Some kids are blind or can't hear
Some go through chemo
But my pain's much more severe
Oh yeah, I am emo...

Take my photograph on a dark overcast day
You know I'll frown, scowl, pout and look away
Just leave me alone on my throne now, please
So I can grieve at how lonely I am in peace.
My hearts cries out to glowering skies
Shouting doubts from dead tear-drowned eyes 
Open my mouth, steadily aim a gat to my head. Redeem this dread
My black outfit could sure do with some matching streams of red

Emo kid.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/02/06 at 12:30 am

WARNING: Mature theme.

Downloading Young Gals
to the tune of 'For Now' from the musical Avenue Q

http://www.sociosite.org/pictures/stalking.gif

Tweenybopper93: I love Internet. I am never bored!

MaleGaze69: Baby, you wanna send me pictures?

Tweenybopper93: Not today I won't!

MaleGaze69: Oh, man! I'll be a totally great friend online...

Tweenybopper93: Well, OK. Email?

Everyone's a little bit phony online.
Many men log on to free their predatory side.
Internet? Freaks abound, all paedophiles!
Young gals...
Look out!

Want some ass?
Child-dot-com
JPEGs, all sizes!
Third world Asian gov'nments
Decriminalised it! 
So go and download some naked underage brides with
No blouse.
(Or towel!)

Downloading young gals? (So foul!)
Blokes on the prowl! (So foul!)
Duping girl scouts! (So foul!)
Oh, it's so foul!

Old chaps are wealthy. Young girls want more toys.
This often helps men with quid-pro-quo ploys.
Though some prefer to swindle young hottie boys
In showers...
(Oh wow! Endowed, young pal!)

Downloading the young? (So wrong!)
Panting with tongue? (So wrong!)
You should be hung! (So wrong!)
Oh, it's so wrong!

Oh, it's so foul!
(What's that kid, five?)
Oh, it's so foul!
(Teens in the buff?)
Oh, it's so foul!
(You're a pervert!)
You should be slapped in cuffs!

Download with your mouse.
(Your mind's corrupted!)
Oh, it's so foul!
(Four thousand porn clips?)
Oh, it's so foul!
(Drop trou?)
Eww, ralph!

Oh, it's so foul!
(Pics!)
Of kiddies... that's foul!
(Unfair!)
Too little, you lout!
(No bush!)
Immoral and foul!

Undress.
E-scam.
Online; young girls' webcams.
You snap hot pics of wayward lasses,
Never thinking it's vice?
That's totally foul!

You're in denial
(Totally foul!)
Pretty soon, you'll be on trial!
(Totally foul!)
Tykes must we wary.
(Totally foul!)
Dude, you're forty six and married!

You hunt the young,
And con for fun?
Abominable!!!
That's bad
Bad bad bad bad
Bad bad bad bad.
You're sad.
Get help.

Abuse of power
That's really vile, duuuuude.

Exploit juveniles?
That's totally foul.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/02/06 at 2:40 am

WARNING: Drug references, some coarse language

Narcotic Enemas

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/97/7/5/O/97755125O443730936.jpg

"When properly administered, the human rectum surely
Can absorb substances faster than if consuming them orally."

Let's use these analgesic drugs
Like they are anal recess plugs
Let's empty cold ones down my rear 
Until my colon's full of beer
Now soothe my sphincter stricturin'
Quick, pour some ginseng tincture in
Then cram my a** with acid tablets
Catnip also sates my habits

Car tank filled with rocket fuels? Then
Hook the exhaust to some tubing
Stick it up my a*** with lube and
I'll get buttf***ed by the fumes, man
Bake pot brownies, cook up shrooms
Grind up poppies in full bloom
Shove it all up in my glutes
Until the roof zooms round the room

You lick toads cuz they're venomous?
Just stick them up your rectum, thus
No-one can be condemning us
Taking narcotic enemas
Some burns from smoulderin' cannabis
May cause some small, thin fanny scars
But you won't spoil your lungs with gas
Come on! Try narcotic enemas

Got hydroponic chronic? Woo!
Try uppers, NyQuil, bong hits, too
I quit blunts cuz my lungs got blocked
But spliffs via colonics rock
Try marijuana with caffeine
And belladonna with taurine
Is this not awesome fun or what?
We're taking drugs right up the butt

There's equipose and methadone
And peyote with ephedrone
Dope and methyltestosterone
Mixed with glucuronolactone
Phencyclidine, guarana, smack
Amphetamines, morphine and crack
Dimethyltryptamine with coke
And gasoline to smoke some tokes

Pop ecstasy and mescaline
And then inject some heroin
More Xanax and relaxants thrust
Up my gluteus maximus!
Lighting up doobies in my tooshie
Spike my douches with some rufies
Drop my trousers, pop some valiums
Cram pills up my can in thousands

LSD capsules, DMT
PCP tablets, LCD
GHB, weed, IV needles
Fungal seeds up my butt cleavage
Mannitol slipped in my colon
Rohypnol drips. Durabolin
Insert til your a** gets swollen
Then we'll try vagina ballin'

Choke my sphincter up with cocaine
Psilocybin slides through rump veins 
MDMA with benzocaine
Light some hemp with a propane flame
Drugs are bad, they f*** up your brain
So take them in the other way
It's a new narcotic religion
Smashed off one's a**... but callipygian!

You lick toads cuz they're venomous?
Just stick them up your rectum, thus
No-one can be condemning us
Taking narcotic enemas
Some burns from smoulderin' cannabis
May cause some small, thin fanny scars
But you won't spoil your lungs with gas
Come on! Try narcotic enemas

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/05/06 at 4:09 am

WARNING: Some coarse language

Mobile Tone

http://www.txroadrunners.com/images/pics/funny5/BigNokiaCellPhone.jpg

Pick up quickly, idiot, your phone is ringing
Ridiculous little midi tone is jingling
Hurry the f*** up, you've gotta somehow block it
Rummage around deep inside your trouser pocket

You’re in your tight pants today? Well, that’s just great, man
Unable to answer whilst your phone’s vibratin’
Got your hands down in your corduroys, that's quite suss
In a concert audience or on the night bus

Can’t you try to muffle out that stupid tune at all?
Getting glared at, embarrassing some dude's funeral
Mash the pad to try and press the proper button
Somehow manage to set Language Choice to Russian

Delete your address book and desktop accessories
Send Mum sexy text messages accidentally
While your dial tone just blares on unabated
'Irritated' rises to 'Exasperated'

Bystanders look mutinous, they've lost their patience
Start advancing on you with pure indignation
But just before you get maimed by the crowd's balled fists
The ringing suddenly stops: "You Have One Call Missed."

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/07/06 at 4:38 am

WARNING: Mature theme, some coarse language

Try And Avoid It

http://www.freewebs.com/b67/pc030003.jpg
Dedicated to Sophie Delezio

Everybody in the club, in the pub
At a party, gettin drunk
Chuggin stubbies, tippin cups
Where's the jug? Fill it up
Grab some drugs, swill a mug
Gettin crunk, gettin plugged
From the bar to your car
Still fudgeed up from your buzz

Press the pedal to the metal, gas it to the maximum
Testosterone thumping, feeling pumped and venturesome
Adrenalin channeling petrol through expanding vessels
Mental stress and alcohol mix to wrench apart your thresholds
Axles swivel, ravaging the shattered glass shard gravel
Action-spattered acceleration to the next negligent level
Passing passenger vans and hatchbacks in a reckless flash
Helter-skelter temperance melting senses black and senseless
Levelheadedness battered askant by the devil's handless gavel
Tachometer ascending to quench each passing second
You revel in your vehicle's peril, a haggard jackal cackling
As it ingests the Adam's apple from accountability's skeleton
Jack Daniels cradled in your hand to fatten your bladder
Avoid the Ranger's laser with a radar detector
You're skating the edge of a razor blade, mad as a cut adder
Straight down the centre of a lane, pedestrians scattering
A haze of blazing jeopardy as brain freezes up, abandoning
Any tact in reaction time, sense of place or direction
*a heartbeat*
Cadillac headlights gently fade as if wrapped within dementia
As faint cries emanate from the smashed wreckage of a child's play centre
A girl trapped beneath your crashed car starts screaming higher and higher
Her body crushed, her skin burning alight from flames of the fire

Where is your thrill now? Look at the building that you have destroyed
Watch small children being violently ill over fragmented toy bits
Feel a chill as you step out of your ride onto half a boy with
Burning oil silently bubbling away at his eyelids
Hear the small girl still screaming in pain and scream right back, voiceless
As the choice you made swirls realisation through you like poison
Crippled yearlings spilling consequence into your mind's void pit
Reality splitting. See your guilt here... now try and avoid it

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/13/06 at 2:44 am

WARNING: Mass payout themes

A Fvnny Thing Happened On The Way ... The Forvm

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/102/6/0/O/102604498O518330870.jpg

A comedy production must
Be in trouble for certain
When half the budget’s lost upfront
To rent some bloody curtains!
Those shoddy columns wobbled more than
Squeeze’s wheelin’ walker
Caution, Deeni, pillars fallin’!
Nearly killed? What fortune…

Long, endless cues were never due
Just negative-skewed revenue
Inevitably, debit blues
To be the consequence, it’s true
Giving up in surrender will
Seem like the move most sensible
Once Luke M’s missed so many ‘Q’s
That this show’s proved no ‘Avenue’

Congenial and winsome tales?
A wreath of clever scenes?
The evil ones heaved into jail
To seethe o’er severed schemes?
Nope! Squeeze in wrinkles, thin and frail
And Steve, a dressed-up queen
Nadine’s a more convincin’ male
Than he has ever been! (“Unclean!”)

Whenever AJ skipped along
A-lifting up his tunic
We all caught glimpses of his thong
“Eww, wrong! That dude’s a eunuch!”
The role of Philia was enjoyed
She did f***-all? That’s thoughtless, man
‘F*** all’ is what virgins avoid
That’s the way of the courtesan…

With Tash, Chloe and Hannah
Sarah, Lucy and Jess thrusting
Each dance was such eye candy
That my eyelids needed flossing
The guards were a disgusting farce
Their spearheads packed more charm!
I’ve not seen such an ugly cast
Since on Nick’s fractured arm!

Does Alice have a cat o’nine?
Cuz Richie’s ‘pussy whipped’!
“I’m organising dance this time,
You must be in this script!”
That Ferry fella’s very scary
From the Netherlands
He’s best friends with Mount Everest
A ten-foot fairy, man

A funny thing just happened
While they printed off the shirts
Give yourselves pats on the back and
You’ll feel some missing words
I don’t know which one had more notes...
The score for Forum’s chorus
Or those reports which Rodney wrote
For after each performance!

The play turned out a massive hit
An encore we are cravin’
Crowds packed til no more chairs could fit
(Though none came to see Steven)
Such characters of classic wit
The critics are all ravin’
And cuz Nib bought twelve packs of chips
We’ve possibly broke even!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: V for Voracious on 05/16/06 at 5:55 am


WORK IN PROGRESS

Comedy Revue Ideas
with co-genius Pat Magee

This has ENORMOUS literary potential.

I particularly liked your use of...












































... coloured text. ;)

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/17/06 at 1:09 am

Narcissus and Echo

http://www.infres.enst.fr/~dax/elsa/paintings/mythology/narcissus-big.jpg

*the blurred image of a face seen from underwater*

O, bitter kiss of fate
Twisting my lust into blistered hate
Pangs of languished heartache
Anguish and narcissistic weight
This chancrous hankering
Laces my cankered veins with her grace
Craving the radiant love latent
Within my twin sister's face


I am invisible
Misery drizzling with the rain
Gossamer mystery
Echoing nymphs' whispers as they fade
A lost distant mist
An ethereal, ephemeral flame
Immiscible to his vision
As an eclipse of the shade


I've been betrayed
By the heavens, severing my heart in twain 
Wading through waves of bereavement
Forever. Never again
Can I give her my love, I quiver
Grieving my angel's grave
My tears stream into a river
Where therein appears her face


O, base embrace of love
Blank, furtive words of verse from above
What is your purpose
In jerking the virgin wings of a dove
I stand, a faithful servant
To the undeservéd gaze of
My beloved, but he reserves his eyes
For a cirque of slough 
Observes his own reflection
Whilst I whisper my silent offer
He's blind to my affection
As behind him, I wait and suffer
I am cursed into inflection
My burning hurt morphs internally
My murderous actions
Shall join him and his twin love eternally


*the face is plunged beneath the surface*

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/19/06 at 12:43 am

WARNING: Strong themes, crude humour, content may offend

Triplets
http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/105/1/3/O/105134705O819970480.jpg
A skit contrived and performed by Nib, Pat and Emiko at 3:32am last night; sped-up into whimsical chipmunk-like voices

Um: *yawn!* Ah, another wonderful day in the womb!
Cal: Dammit, Um, you woke me up! I was having a wonderful dream that I was strangling Billy using my umbilical cord!
Billy: Duhhh, how come boys develop nipples?
Um and Cal: Shut up, Billy.
Cal: Honestly, Billy, you're a waste of uteral space.
Um: The only thing you're good for is stem cell research!
Billy: Duhhh, why do people always drink bovine milk instead of bottled human lactations?
Um and Cal: Shut up, Billy!
Um: Oh, hey! I think Dad's going down on Mum again! Let's head on down and get our toes tickled!
All: Hooray!
*metallic scraping sound effect*
Billy: Duhhh, did Dad get a tongue piercing? Cuz I can feel metal against my feet!
Cal: Ow!
Um: Ow!
Cal: Oh no, that's not a tongue!
Um: That's a coathanger!
All: AAAARRGH! Backyard abortion! Backyard abortion!
Cal: Retreat! Retreat!
Um: Head for the top of the placenta!
Billy: Duhhh, my pain receptors are telling me things.
Cal: There's no way out! We'll never escape!
Um: We must sacrifice one of us to appease the wire gods!
*pause*
Um and Cal: See you later, Billy!
Billy: Duhhh, I'm six months premature!
*orally created sound effects of metallic gouging and noises of suction*

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/19/06 at 3:00 am

WARNING: Some coarse language, content may offend

Whiteboy

http://www.lvx23.com/images/eazy-G.jpg

Whiteboy! Whiteboy!
Wackass cracker!
Whiteboy! Whiteboy!
Acting blacker.
Whiteboy! Whiteboy!
Peckerwood man.
Whiteboy! Whiteboy!
Stick with the Klan.

Like ten albumens rended in a blender with Eminem.
I'm whiter than a panda... minus four black dismembered limbs .
My rendered picture's a colour-invert of a Gambian.
More white than Mr Lisp with his left hand getting severed, man
("Wight...")

My skin's as pale as faded lace, cling wrap could not be clearer.
I look like I'm a ghost who's just seen myself in the mirror!
A walking stack of A4; the first piece to slide in chess;
Just taxiderm my hide to make some bride her wedding dress!

I'm studying the phonics of more darker folk's Ebonics,
But I just squawk in 'quartz' while they all talk and joke in 'onyx'.
I pain with pangs of angst that I'm called a wiseass young prankster,
When claiming my Italian name qualifies me as "gangsta".

Whiteboy! Whiteboy!
A black human?
Whiteboy! Whiteboy!
You've no hue, man!
Whiteboy! Whiteboy!
Wants his skin changed.
Whiteboy! Whiteboy!
Flesh/brain yin-yang.

You described my colour just then, 'coal as Coca Cola'?
"No, you're dolt, it looks like 'coke'... the type used in speedballin'!
You're European in descent, of middle class persuasion,
So why the hell do you pretend that you are not Caucasian?
EmiLoca's rapping teen beau? Wan in epidermis!
Slurping Mocha Frappucinos from his Starbucks thermos!
His skin glows like a Merino's, more white than his sperm is.
Nib's a joke among Albinos, why can't he just learn this?!"

Golly gosh! You really think that my pigment is pretty pink?
"Skin so pale it's half fluorescent! Not the slightest bit nigrescent!"
Jeepers! Boy! That sure aint swell. Wave my Panther robes farewell...
If their colour is called 'jet', guess I'm a terrorist threat.

Whiteboy! Whiteboy!
Point Guards s******.
Whiteboy! Whiteboy!
At this wigger.
Whiteboy! Whiteboy!
Lord Almighty.
Whiteboy! Whiteboy!
Me so whitey.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/24/06 at 3:05 am

WARNING: Sexual references

Not Another Pre-Exam Dream! a University musing

http://home.intekom.com/jenty/chacha/exams.jpg

My virgin mind has always feared academic intercourse.
I have procrastinated the event for as long as possible.
However, my anxiety has been steadily growing as the inevitable moment draws nigh.
I must admit that I am intimidated by the thought of handling such giant theses.
As if doing oral in class wasn't bad enough!
But before I know it, the moment has arrived and I am ready to go.
I take a deep breath as my right hand grips tightly.
I begin to jerk my wrist repeatedly back and forth.
My forehead dots with perspiration as time goes by.
Halfway through, I encounter problems with maintaining firm progression,
So I suck hard on the tip and bang it against the side of the table to get it going again.
Time is running out.
My pulse quickens.
My wrist movements become a frantic frenzy of blurred movement,
Followed by a euphoric moment of release as I reach the climax.
Phew, I need a cigarette.

I awake in the middle of the night, my sheets stained with white out.
Drat, it was all just a dream... a premature examination.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 06/05/06 at 5:55 am

Seppuku
a 25-minute haiku

http://www.vuni.net/b/suicide.jpg

Natsukusa ya
Tsuwamono domo ga
Yume no ato

See through damaged eyes
Of the damned young lamb of white
Virgin Samurai

Stare down your masters
Out-draw the martial artists
With your katanas

Sharp blows of judo
And shots from shogun

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 06/05/06 at 6:22 am

WARNING: Coarse language

Click Go The Shears
A freestyle rap started halfway through a horrendously slow and boring karaoke

http://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/collection/images/im_shear4.jpg

The colonial-experience man, he is there, of course,
With the hos beggin' for some intercourse
Half the women there smelling like some fresh manure
Kissing them on the mouth tasting like an open sewer!

Shearing is all over and we've all got our cheques,
(Those Slovakian immigrants who came in on shipwrecks)
The first pub we come to, we'll grab a beer instead,
And everyone can stand and cheer down at the shearing shed!

Click go the shears! *clickity click-ta-click*
White is the load from his giant d***
The ringer looks around and is beaten by a blow,
Just like a pimpin' n***** beatin up his lousy ho!

Click go the shears! *clickity click-ta-click*
Lie down and blow on his giant d***
The ringer looks around and is beaten by a blow,
And curses how he's fat from his huge beer-belly, yo... yo yo yo!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 06/18/06 at 6:09 am

NIB OSWALD PROUDLY CELEBRATES
FAN #000000001

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/117/1/0/O/117107245O711801476.jpg
http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/117/1/0/O/117107245O711801476.jpg

Thanks for the linkage, random uni stranger!
http://bluestripe.stumbleupon.com/

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 06/23/06 at 6:14 am

WARNING: Mature theme, coarse language, content may offend

Apocalypse
a script by Luke Brattoni

http://www.etext.org/Zines/planet/pm39/in_darkness_light1.jpg

1. A BLACK SCREEN

Darkness. Silence.
A minute ringing noise sounds as a tiny white dot appears in the middle of the screen. The dot gradually grows larger and takes the shape of a small swirling cosmos as we move towards it. A low whooshing sound grows in volume. Suddenly, a streak of colours and shapes flashes by with a loud roar. Galaxies emerge from the distance as we continue to accelerate in speed. The blur of passing objects reaches terminal velocity. Occasional masses of space debris hurtle directly past the screen, obscuring our view temporarily. An approaching galaxy has a solar system visible within one of its arms. We continue forwards. A blue planet enters our vision from the top right hand corner of the solar system, travelling along an elliptic arc. The whooshing noise begins to fade as we decelerate. The surface of the blue planet rotates slowly beneath us as we descend through a sea of grey clouds. A dark blue ocean appears. The North Pole is moved into our path below as we descend through a blizzard of white towards the Earth

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 06/26/06 at 4:16 am

WARNING: Sexual references, coarse language, content may offend

My Lump
to the tune of 'My Humps' by Black Eyed Peas

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/119/3/7/O/119373170O292941452.jpg

"Crotch is looking du-bi-ous-ly pumped.
There's a lump inside your trunks."


I'm a hot pre-op, you dumb chump!
That's no botchka in my front
I'm six-foot-one
I have enormous arms
Aint got no t*** or c**t
So what's inside my thong?
Work it out!

I'm like most other ladies
But somethin' 'bout me's shady
Beneath is a surprise, see
You won't find it enticin'
Wanna know what's un-der?
Long as a banana
Hairy as a bear
It's very scary, you'll be terrified

What hint am I maskin'
Beneath my thick-moustached grin?
Male genes weren't my preference
So I dressed up to look different
And I keep on fakin'
Are you still mistaken?
You think I look great when
I'm on stage here gyratin' my lump

My lump my lump my lump
You dumb guys swarm in throngs
A woman? Nup, you're wrong!
To your misfortune... 


"He's gender-bending!"
Friendly in a bunny costume?
A transvestite, buddy!

"He's just pretending!"
Men are looking hungry for me
They paw me, horny


"Whatcha gonna do when we succumb?
We'll be charmed because we're dumb!"

I'ma get wit' ya, hetero chump
Press your butt up to my rump!

"Whatcha gonna do if I advance?
My hot passion is revealed!" 

From beneath the sheets, you will flee
When you've seen the real me!

Cuz of my lump
My lump my lump my lump
It's right there in my johns
How can you still be stumped?
Work it out!


"I met a girl from San Francisco
I don't hate on chicks cuz of big bones
Such a special lady, really smart and funny
And a splendid body
Hair was like silk but she spoke real gruff
Really REALLY spoke low
Getting fixed so you'll have a muff?
Still a fellow?
Riiiiight..."


What can be so perplexing
When I am onstage flexing?
You dullards pant and pester me
Mentally undressing me
Can't you see my lump? Nup?
When I move it jumps up!
You damn shmucks have got a crush on me?
My crotch is giant!

...hairy armpits!
Don't you see these plump hips?
I'm no mum, twit!
These balloons are not t**s!
So don't think of romance, son
Cuz I'm a man, son
With girls' underpants on
To hold my lump

It's plump
My lump my lump my lump
My lump my lump my lump
My rather manly bump
Yeah, I pack piston pump
You'd better watch out... 


"He's gender-bending!"
Friendly in a bunny costume?
A transvestite, buddy!

"He's just pretending!"
Men are looking hungry for me
They paw me, horny


"Man, this woman has a muscly chest...
And two testes in her skirt."

I'ma pay surgeons to do work...
I'd prefer to be a bird!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: V for Voracious on 06/28/06 at 2:08 am

I learnt something today. The last line is a gem.
http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=onanism

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 07/02/06 at 9:03 pm

WARNING: Mass payout theme

The Patrick Magee Birthday Medley

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/121/5/5/O/121559833O613715168.jpg

Who's the wittiest pr*** in the district? It's Patrick! 
Now this d*** shall be uncovered, just like sex with a Catholic...

To the tune of 'Friday I'm In Love' by The Cure
He don't care if puns fall through
Jokes are lame, his friends all boo
Watch out! He's "Gonna get you!"
Pat likes to get a laugh

Can't say 'Macbeth' or he'll dart
Few pretend that he's not smart
Pull his finger and he'll fart
Pat likes to get a laugh

Saturday's great
Chugging Smirnoffs until late
With us, his second-preference date 
Pat likes to get a...

To the tune of 'Mambo No 5.' by Lou Bega
Laugh. Laugh.
Laugh-laugh laugh-laugh.
Laugh.Laugh.
Laugh-laugh laugh-laugh.

Laugh. Laugh.
Laugh-laugh laugh-laugh.
Laugh. Laugh.
Laugh-laugh laugh-laugh.

One, two, three, four, five!
And that

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 07/07/06 at 12:18 am

WARNING: Sexual references, mature themes, coarse language, crude humour, violence, content may offend

The Farce Side

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/124/3/7/O/124370555O938698459.jpg
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http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/114/2/5/O/114259598O496760970.jpg
(with illustrations by Patrick Magee)

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Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 07/07/06 at 9:26 pm

WARNING: Mass payout theme

Tony Farewell Rap

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We're gathering here to farewell a dear friend
As they now endeavour to travel to the end...
of the Earth. An adventure, a new rebirth
So Geri: have a very safe trip back to Perth!
(Only joking, Tony...)

You're all here to get plastered, aren't ya?
Who cares about this bastard's departure?
Question: What device does twice the work of Ant Slater?
The answer: Eloise's brand new v*******!
Ant's best position to sexually please Squeeze
...is him being sixty leagues overseas!

"On your knees!" Tony will soon hear her moan
"Now fold those clothes, b****! Nice and slow...
Roll those tops! Ball those socks!
I want my box full... with all your jocks!
Hairgel packets stacked and locked!
Oh man, you've got me so damn hot!"

Tony, dude, it's fruitless aiming to stay faithful
When you find you're giving the flight stewardess a facial!
"The Mile High Club Award goes to Dramac,
For effing the pilot before the plane has left tarmac!"
If he stuffs Squeeze in his luggage, he's gonna get busted
For smuggling drugs AND wild fauna through customs!

Drastic times will finally call for drastic measures
When Eloise resorts to Patrick for sexual pleasure!
That's crude? Slater will get two months good behaviour
For making out naked with the Statue of David!
Hittin' it wit' Greek chicks, gettin freaky and devious
With the speaker of the European Contiki bus!
He'll be hurting for sure when touring Amsterdam
Having four hamsters inserted up his pants there, damn
Then Anthony will head west over to Manchester
Cuz the manchest there is the best that it gets as a
Pansy transvestite dressed in fishnets and tight leather
...I guess molesting's all you can do in that sheeshe weather!
We might never see our ex-president ever again
When he discovers that Paris loves metrosexual men!
However, he will be devastated when learning Big Ben
Is a clock, not a person, so no c*** for you, man...

So, Tony, I hope abstinence proves relaxin'
In Squeeze's absence, you get no actual satisfaction
From battin off, jackin your d*** from lack of action
Cuz all you'll 'pick up'... is an even f**gier accent!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald Brattoni...

Written By: Confused Rosie on 07/16/06 at 11:31 pm

As a fan of most of your other work, I do not understand the ones entitled countries and states of America. Are they supposed to be funny because while they might be clever, I do not find them in the least bit amusing. Also, would you ever consider of having a jokes in places other than at the end of each skit? I often find that acts with jokees throughout the entirety of them are much more amusing then ones where the only joke is at the end even though it might be hilarious. Keep putting your wokr up because it is very interesting to read!
-Rosie

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 07/20/06 at 1:51 am

WARNING: Sexual references, coarse language

Penises And Vaginas
to the tune of 'We Didn't Start The Fire' by Billy Joel

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Audio

Hairy Poontang, Forest Bay, Red Giney Runny Spray
Mouth-on-Dipstick Smudged With Lipstick, Eau de Vaggio!
Boners, Fuzzies, Minges, Dicks and Nudey Place That Smells Of Fish and
Gonnorhea's South Area, Barrel-o'-Fun Hole!
Lower Purse, Wang, Dongs, Sugar Cave, Member, Schlong
Handhold, Twat, Stinkie Pie, Margaret's Thatcher, Inner Thigh!
Risin' Tower, Crack Cream, Crimson-Scarlet-Flow Stream
Pussy, Taco, Little Archie, Genitalia Woodfire!

Penises and Vaginas
Are used when referrin' to your Urge-Filled Nerve Ends!
Keep innuendos flyin'
The more crude and vile, the more you will smile!

Toasted Marlin, Pole of Love, Sausage Hammock, Cunny, Muff
Cock, Old Fella, Tampon Alley, Cum-'n'-Fist Box!
Boy Stump, Yung The Hung, Crotch Zuccini, Snatch Bun
Man's Friend, Two Balls, F***-'n'-Pound-Me Dock!
Loins, Groins, Dame's Gleams, Sucklin' Pot, Quim, Women's Seams
Gravy Rocket, Beaver, Clam, Pelvis Parsley, Slippery Land!
Trombone, Pudding Slash, Adam's Dagger, Mush Gash
Panty Gates, Waitin' Space, Hubba Bubba Skewers!

Weiner of Oscar Meyer
Euphemistic wordin' for a Purple Gherkin!
Meat Mitten, Mutton Mire
Fom a Kidney Wiper to a Peter Piper!

Lincoln Log, Crackerjack, Sticky Candle, Pair-in-Sack
Mutt, Prick, Slip-'n'-slide, Niche Of The Virgin Bride!
Slab-o'-Fun, Mustard Pole, Fella's Fornicate Hall
Stark Nethers, Cum Inside, Trouser-Snake-That-Is-One-eyed!
Hubby's Lolly, Fen Fur, Spank Monkey, Taffy Scar
Lubin' Tube, Cazzo, Diddle, Pizzle, Low Zone!
Yoohoo, Thingamee, La Zorra, Extremities
Chubby, Pecker, Spike Hole, Penca, Concha, Choro!

She-Kitten, C**t, Old Tyre
Lots of different wordin' for a girl's Pink Curtains!
Wee Willy, Rod and Cyclops 
Euphemistic rhymin' for a Buster Hymen!

Phlegmy Place, Tight One, Jangle Berries, Vein Pump
Phallic... Wallet... Bay of Penetration!
Chart Map of Tasmania, Yiddish Meat, Ole Baby Box
Raw Bits, Long Pen, Piston-Meets-Batterin'-Ram!
Poke Hole, Pouch For Sex, Kitty, Pole For Fishin' Trips
Virgin Plates, Badger State, Utensils To Masturbate!

Streetcar That's Named Desire
And the Wand Of Merlin will sure lure the girls in!
Forbidden Hobbit Shire
Down a Fillet Highway you will find The White Whale!

Vertical Coochie Grin, MICHELLE DIXON Lacquerin'
Poonpot, Woodchuck, Daughtergate, Spunk Nook!
Beaver Cleaver, Knobcone Pine, Ferret-Down-The-Hairline
Apparatus, Little One, Slushie In A Cannikin!
Meal-of-Gorgin', Valley Wide, Tulip Petals, Loose Or Tight
Warren Traps, Foamin' Flaps, Maid's Crack, Furry Gaps!
Pipe-o'-Sperm-'n'-Scrotal-Torque, Shinin' Wonder, Crotch O' Pork
Sergeant of the Bollocks Corps, and there's many many more!

Penises and Vaginas
Are used when referrin'
To your Urge-Filled Nerve Ends
Keep innuendos flyin'
With such love of porn
The list goes on and on and on and on...

Weiner of Oscar Meyer
Euphemistic wordin' for a Purple Gherkin!
Meat Mitten, Mutton Mire
From a Kidney Wiper to a Peter Piper!

She-Kitten, C**t, Old Tyre
Lots of different wordin' for a girl's Pink Curtains!
Wee Willy, Rod and Cyclops 
Euphemistic rhymin' for a Buster Hymen!

Streetcar That's Named Desire
And the Wand Of Merlin will sure lure the girls in!
Forbidden Hobbit Shire
Down a Fillet Highway you will find The White Whale!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 07/20/06 at 11:49 pm

WARNING: Strong sexual references, crude humour

Who's A MILF?
to the tune of 'Lose Yourself' by Eminem

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Look…a huge rack…nice butt…Hun, what you do to me…
My knees quivering, you're such a stunner…one woman…
Let's get rapturous…(Don't break a hip.)

Yo! Her arms are jelly, stretch-marks on her belly.
Your mother does resemble a relic… bum's appealing?
How perverse! Well, even more worse is she's half-elderly.
A hot mum? Body's been gone since twenty!
She eats All Bran, it's full fan on the can.
A pull on the chain but the turds still remain.
She yells and strains. Hell, the loo is filled with grain.
It's blocked again. I shrug… still my dame!

Bad back abnormality, toothless with cavities,
Poop is so carroty, broke the old lavatory.
So? I like challenges: hos who wear nappy-things. Gross?
An old hag, yes I know. Old-folk snatcher for sho'.
Disposed for nursing home, but so fab in old clothes.
Granny-o's lapping herbal foam laxatives.
Sexually active at home. Prophylactic split?
Better hope menopause holds up the 'ova flow'.

Ooh mumma! Who's a MILF? It's that beautiful woman,
She's comin' to get in leather cladded boots.
A fogey? Your mum's hot, on top here she has a 'stroke'.
Your pop is furious, young guns say his wife's mine.
Ooh mumma! Who's a MILF? It's that cutey your mother,
No other could wet the bed without a hose.
A dotard? Her gums slop, I pop, guess your mam's a ho.
A lot of nudity fun starts when it's night time.
Ooh mumma!

Her scones: amazing. In a bowl, add the raisins.
This girl is fine when she's baking... cakes and things.
Get our groove on to, Henry Fonda,
'On Golden Pond' is awesome,
Her juices running, pulse gets o'er dormant.
This oldie grows horny.
Fogey's clothes off and she'll show melanosis, these moles are all over.
Boasts the most-sewn torso allografted.
Post-op pockmarked her.
She knows she's grown larger from roasted goat pasta.
Her crows' toes, furrowed, echo like crevasses.
A folded nose from rhino, nouveau products.
She'll lose stones, adipose plucked, liposuction.
Her cute buns have been snipped, shmooshed and honed.
And those bosoms are jugs that are moulded by potters.
You're scolding my false idols? Gross? It's your mother!
She's a sweet woman, badda-boomp-da-boomp-ba!

Ooh mumma! Who's a MILF and a dutiful lover?
I smother her with presents and visit the Home.
She's bonnie, a hot mum in love with this handsome beau.
Hun, what you do to me… warm heart and my life shines.
Ooh mumma! Who's a MILF? Bought a new hip on Monday,
And one day I plan to get her a halo.
An oldie with sunspots, blood clots and her dentures broke.
But all her prunes are free, lunch farts are a right riot!
Ooh mumma!

This hot dame is a babe nearing old age.
Wearing lots of blush and rouge stuff hides up her mange.
She loves playing lots of cribbage,
And broodle games.
Then she's soon off for lights out to snooze all day.
When I drop by just to help wipe her messed diaper,
Best believe somebody's playing the nice guy for 'er.
Walking frame device, and I buy vinyls.
Rapt in five hours of whining on like a,
Hive on high-pitch reciting life as a child,
Her failed memory does tend to retell and render time mindless.
Yet, she's still groovy and full of high life, ah.
Kisses: divine!

And she's fine and so hot...
When I'm petting with your mother,
Writhing sea of blubber and gleet pus. She's a stunner.
Caught up between two of her knockers, (hang down to her runners!)
Racy mama's got a steaming body, too hot for me to handle.
Hey, what's she done? Your mother's hands have gotten locked on me.
A toyboy, I'm like a male blow-up. She's gone and played a hot,
Sweet friend just to bail me up.
But sex wasn't in my lover's book of options.
Help me out!
Mums' pulchritude is just bait to hook we fools,
I can not get loose from your mum's hut.
Oh, here we go to her cot! Please save me God!
This may be a show of rotten nudity to fend off...

Ooh mumma! Who's a MILF? Well I'm choosing ol' Demi,
Your mammy's emphatic- wouldn't let me go!
A phony who blocked up her grotness with masks and clothes,
Then slipped me rufie pills, unconscious – a wiped mind.
Ooh mumma! Who's a MILF? I'm refusing to fall for
Your mother, was not a friendly rendezvous.
Seducing this dumb tot with a succubus-like show.
Now not so cute for me, Mum's aren't always fine types.
Don't want 'em!

Mums can woo anyone they set their eyes on, man.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 07/21/06 at 12:11 am

WARNING: Strong coarse language, strong sexual references, content may offend

Twenty For A F*** (mildly censored version)
To the tune of 'Jenny From The Block' by J-Lo

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Frickin h*, she swims in man j***.
All the men she'll jerk.
They c** their s***n.
Leathery b**-f***s, she keeps on giving…

She scoffs the c***, this w****.
Man, what a h*, her fat b*** is sore.
Everybody's had and she's lusting for more.
She'll go and keep goin' as you grope at her Dumbledore.
One time more
Oooh, sure got a raw b*** from these c***s,
C**min' jocks, nerds, everybody brains f***ed-out.
Give her two guys, see-through mesh.
F***ing ponies, the sl**.
Shake that b**ty, give a h***j**, licking foam off her c**t.

Oh she drools on these c***s that she s**ks.
(I'm skilled, I'm skilled)
Twenty for a f***.
Thrusting up her t**ties as you grab her c**tch.
Then splatter on this h*, she's flowing from sprayed c**.
(F***y like a fox)

I keep givin' dollars,
She smooths her lips.
Non-stop with sex,
Such a h*, nice hips.
H***- she drips.
She's splayed, pounded.
And now I mount, swollen,
A real h*****, she smoulders. (Reveals)
A real slaver, wide open. (She squeals)
Fat b**ty.
H****r groaning.
Jump straight on her.
Make it wet, her t**t, then pay- oh!
(Ouch, mouth bonks!)

Oh she drools on these c***s that she s**ks.
(I'm skilled, I'm skilled)
Twenty for a f***.
Thrusting up her t**ties as you grab her c**tch.
Then splatter on this h*, she's flowing from sprayed c**.
(F***y like a fox)

She's hardly worth a kiss.
F***ing, such fitness.
I've blown up her c**tch.
I'm in her h*** and thrustin' it.
H***ers got me f*dgin' quick.
Who needs a wife?
J-Lo's on shift!
Full c*** burst,
She's panting, wet,
And she squeals. (squeals)
Luck'ly it's not breeding, yeah.

Oh she drools on these c***s that she s**ks.
(I'm skilled, I'm skilled)
Twenty for a f***.
Thrusting up her t**ties as you grab her c**tch.
Then splatter on this h*, she's flowing from sprayed c**.
(F***y like a fox)

H*, h*!
She loves h***-j**s and a**-f***s,
And won't stop drooling on these c***s that she sucks for fast bucks.
She gets slapped when she puts out.
Heavin' as she scrapes your goods out, she's mounted, pud out.
So versatile, we both blow and we're spent, twitch.
Thrust, keep her squealing, her buns I came in, b****.
Br**st rings, not one for halos, c***s in J-Lo.
A d*** buffet, throat like sprayed glue.
Her a** earns a-plenty for a c***
As she bends and I spray,
She's still just twenty for a f***.

Leathery b**-f***s, she keeps on giving!

Oh she drools on these c***s that she s**ks.
(I'm skilled, I'm skilled)
Twenty for a f***.
Thrusting up her t**ties as you grab her c**tch.
Then splatter on this h*, she's flowing from sprayed c**.
(F***y like a fox)

Leathery b**-f***s, she keeps on giving…

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 07/24/06 at 8:53 am

WARNING: Crude humour, some coarse language

Uncle Oswald

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/127/0/9/O/127099716O427816719.jpg

URGENT AND CONFIDENTIAL PLEASE RESPOND IMMEDIATELY
Dear Sir/Madam,
I am AUDU SANI the MANAGER in charge of BILL AND EXCHANGE section of AFRICAN DEVELOPMENT BANK (A D B) Ouagadougou Burkina-Faso in West Africa.
With due respect and regard I have decided to contact you on a business transaction that will be very beneficial to both of us at the end of the transaction.
During our investigation and auditing in this bank, my department came across a very huge sum of money belonging to a deceased person who died on November 2001 in a plane crash and the fund has been dormant in his account with this Bank without any claim of the fund in our custody either from his family or relation before my discovery to this development.
Although personally, I keep this information secret within myself to enable the whole plans and idea be Profitable and successful during the time of execution.
The said amount was sum of $ TWENTY TWO MILLION THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND UNITED STATES DOLLARS ($22.3m)
Meanwhile all the whole arrangement to put claim over this fund as the Bonafide next of kin to the deceased, get the required approval and transfer this money to a foreign account has been put in place and directives and needed information will be relayed to you as soon as you indicate your interest and willingness to assist me and also benefit your self to this great business opportunity.
In fact I could have done this deal alone but because of my position in this country as a civil servant (A Banker),we are not allowed to operate a foreign account and would eventually raise an eye brow on my side during the time of transfer because I work in this bank. This is the actual reason why it will require a second party or fellow who will forward claims as the next of kin to the Bank and also present a foreign account where he will need the money to be re-transferred into on his request as it may be after due verification and clarification by the correspondent branch of the bank where the whole money will be remitted from to your own designation bank account.
I don't want this money to go into the Bank treasury as unclaimed Bill.
Our Banking law and guideline here stipulates that if such money remained unclaimed after five years, the money will be transferred into the Bank  treasury as unclaimed fund.
The request of  foreigner as next of kin in this business is occasioned by the fact that the customer was a foreigner and a Burkinabe cannot stand as next of kin to a foreigner.
I will not fail to inform you that this transaction is 100% risk free.
On smooth conclusion of this transaction, you will be entitled to 30% of the total sum as gratification, while 5% will be set aside to take care of expenses that may arise during the time of transfer and also telephone bills, while 65% will be for me.
Please, you have been adviced to keep "top secret" as I am still in service and intend to retire from service after I conclude this deal with you.
I will be monitoring the whole situation here in this bank until you confirm the money in your account and ask me to come down to your country for
subsequent sharing of the fund according to percentages previously indicated and further investment, either in your country or any country you advice us to invest in.
All other necessary vital information will be sent to you when I hear from you.
I look forward to receive your email.

Yours faithfully,
Mr AUDU SANI HOME ADDRESS:288 QUEZIN
FERDINAND AVENUE OUAGADOUGOU
BURKINA-FASO.

Audu, I am honoured that you have chosen me as your beneficiary for this scheme, although I did initially have some ethical problems with going through with this transaction.
First off, out of all of the 'foreigners' you could have picked a recipient from, in order to have a non-Burkinabe claim the funds, you went with a white male from a Western country, as opposed to someone from an empoverished nation in Asia, South America, or even simply a neighbouring African country. Furthermore, I was under the impression that any unclaimed funds automatically become Burkina Faso government property after a period of seven years. As your country has a GNP of less than 2% that of Australia, I thought perhaps $22 million could greatly benefit a community in your country.
However, as you said, you are a civil servant and I can only assume you have the best wishes for your fellow civilians at heart. I would send my heartfelt condolences regarding the death of whoever's bank account we are about to pillage, but I guess there's no-one to send them to!
So anyhoo, please find attached my bank account details, credit card number, all associated PINs, my home address, the security code to the front door of my house, my social security details and all official documents regarding my education, medical history and income dating from 1991.
I look forward to being prt of this great business opportunity, partner!
-Uncle Oswald


Dear Agony Uncle Oswald
Had a read of some of your work 'inthe00s'.
Those's some outstanding work there buddy, some made me laugh so much i nearly pee'd myself.
nice work
-Mathew

Thanks, Mathew, I do indeed put a lot of work into my work when I'm working. However, of more concern is your little urinary problem there.
Not being able to pee when laughing at my humour suggests that you suffer from a rare disorder known as 'monorrhoea'. Unlike diarrhoea, which causes your solids to come out as liquids, monorrhoea causes your liquids to come out in solid form.
From your letter, it sounds like you have a large log of solidified urine clogging up your urethra.
There are various creams available to treat this condition, but I also recommend stroking your member at regular intervals to ease it all out.
Soon you will be freely wetting your pants as you read over my work when you should be working at work!
-Uncle Oswald



Analyse My Typing
you rule nib! they're so funny.
you got talent kid...... im gonna make you a star (by continuing writing encouraging messages to you and then
bragging to everyone when you are famous that i never gave up on you)
ha ha ha ha.......... youre great
hi!
-sent via email by Giulia

Well, Guilia, your use of a sans serif font suggests that you are a very rounded individual. However, you are shy and uncomfortable with situations of conflict, as demonstrated by your reluctance to use the Caps Lock key. I also feel that your menial job must be stifling your creative talents for the moment, so you overcompensate your use of ellipses as a cry for attention. Your typing also reflects a vitamin-rich diet as seen in the inconsistency of using 'you are' and 'youre', but perhaps you should eat more fibre to help those inverted commas come along.
And don't worry, ending your message with a greeting is a sign of a bubbly personality. That, or mental retardation.
-Uncle Oswald



Confused Feedback
As a fan of most of your other work, I do not understand the ones entitled countries and states of America. Are they supposed to be funny because while they might be clever, I do not find them in the least bit amusing.
Also, would you ever consider of having a jokes in places other than at the end of each skit? I often find that acts with jokees throughout the entirety of them are much more amusing then ones where the only joke is at the end even though it might be hilarious.
Keep putting your wokr up because it is very interesting to read!
-Rosie

Thanks for your feedback, Rosie! (Bitch.)
My skit entitled 'States of America' plays upon contemporary slang euphemising particular sexual acts using American locations in the title. For example: 'Cleveland Steamer', 'Boston Pancake' and 'Pasadena Mudslide'. I extrapolated this concept so that every American State was allocated a sexual position in its name. Furthermore, the final lines demonstrate the hypocritical stance that US culture has, in regards to homosexuality being considered more sexually perverse than any extreme of heterosexual intercourse.

In regards to your second point, THESE TWO SKITS ARE ONES WHERE THE JOKE RUNS THROUGHOUT, CRETIN! And what's more, every other skit has the punchline PUT IN AT THE VERY START, the rest of the dialogue is simply drawn out to make room for all of the audience's laughter. Obviously you must have a poor punchline radar.
May I add that it took painstaking hours of research to go through every country in the world and arrange them into a narrative of flowing punnage and every line is jam packed with intellectual wit that few Harvard graduates could match! (Except for Urian Oakes, of course. Boy, that guy is one witty motherf***er.)
In conclusion... you are confused, I am a deity of humour, thus your questioning of my comedy simply proves blasphemic and is a clear indicator that you will make a fine sacrifice during Nib Worshipping ceremonies as penance. That is all.
-Uncle Oswald


If you would like a letter answered by Uncle Oswald, write to you_think_nib_just_made_this_up@yahoo.co.uk with your favourite type of cheese as the title.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 07/24/06 at 10:18 am

QWERTYUIOP

http://language.home.sprynet.com/images/qwtterr.gif

A, did you know I turn into the Queue?
B Double-you?
C this letter become E.
D becomes what you Are.
E is coming over to Tea.
F changes too? Why?
G, are You?
H am I.
I am? Oh.
J needs to Pee.

K switches, Eh?
L becomes S.
M becomes D.
N doesn't give an F.
O is a true ol' G.
P becomes H.
Q becomes J.
R becomes another letter, too. 'Kay?
S is going to 'Ell.

T becomes Z.
U are my Ex.
V is now clear to See.
W becomes V.
X it will Be.
Y is the second last from the En'.
as Z becomes M.

You have to get
This new alphabet
In order to follow this
Word-letter osmosis

HOT blackbirds baked into a PIE
PILE praises on your generous HOST
ROT away until you DIE
VILE behaviour will pay the COST

EGGS straight from the fridge feel COOL
OFF your face at the local INN
Sit on the SOFA playing Zelda as LINK
WOW that's a messy BIB
ROD is a guy who's really DIM

AQBWCEDRETFYGUHIIOJPKALSMDNFOGPHQJRKSLTZUXVCWVXBYNZM!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/08/06 at 8:36 pm

Eggshells

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/135/8/5/O/135851756O903068242.jpg
Image source

1. INT. BEDROOM. MORNING.                        1.

The sound of a mobile jingling in the morning breeze.
A lace curtain billows gently out from the right of screen until we see nothing but white.
‘Eggshells’.
The curtain falls back down out of screen.

2. INT. BEDROOM. MORNING.                        2.
Blackness.
The mobile continues to jingle softly in the distance.
We hear the rustle of sheets.
CECILIA inhales deeply.
We briefly see two eyes opening, before the screen returns to blackness.

CECILIA (V/O)


The sound of Cecilia’s fingers stroking the empty bed beside to her.
We briefly see Cecilia’s hand sweep across the sheets, showing us her wedding ring.
Blackness.

CECILIA (V/O cont’d)
(calling out)
Oscar? Oscar, are you home?

The sound of further rustling.
Cecilia’s feet hit the wooden floorboards.
From beneath her bed, we briefly glimpse two bare feet walking shakily away towards a doorway.
Blackness.

3. INT. KITCHEN. MORNING.                        3.
The empty hum of a refrigerator.
The sound of footsteps.
We see Cecilia’s fingers travelling up the wall before coming across the light switch.
A loud click.
The bright kitchen light flickers on.
Cecilia is framed in the doorway of the kitchen prior to everything blurring gradually out of focus.
We see cloudy, vague shapes of the kitchen from Cecilia’s blurred POV.

CECILIA (cont’d)
Are you back, Oscar?

Cecilia walks towards the kitchen bench.
We see Cecilia’s bare foot painfully come into contact with a stool leg.
Cecilia falls forward and her hands involuntarily grab the bench for support.
A brief blurred POV shot of the room jolting.

CECILIA (cont’d)
Ow! God damn it!

4. INT. KITCHEN. MORNING.                        4.
Cecilia leans on the kitchen bench and brusquely wipes tears from her eyes.
See sniffs, regaining composure.
Her fingers begin travelling over the kitchen bench until they find a fry pan beside the sink.
Cecilia places the fry pan on the stove.
Blackness.

The sound of a box of matches rattling.
The ticking of a gas stove being turned on, followed by the sound of a match being lit.
We suddenly see the gas catch alight with a soft whoosh.
Blackness.

From inside the refrigerator, we see the light come on as Cecilia opens the refrigerator door and feels about for two lone eggs before closing the door.
Blackness.

A loud crack.
Another loud crack.
We see the second egg being broken against the side of the pan, before being poured inside with a sizzle.
We watch for a moment as the eggs begin heating up.
Fade to black.

5. INT. KITCHEN. MORNING.                        5.
Cecilia is seated at the kitchen bench staring blankly ahead, the sound of frying eggs in the background.
Close-up of a clock ticking on the wall.
Close-up of Cecilia’s ear.
Extreme-close-up of a clock ticking on the wall.
Extreme-close-up of Cecilia’s ear.
Extreme-close-up of eggs frying.
Extreme-close-up of a droplet slowly forming on the kitchen tap.
Extreme-close-up of the droplet splashing into the bottom of the sink.
Extreme-close-up of Cecilia blinking.
Extreme-close-up of the clock ticking, louder.
Extreme-close-up of the eggs frying, louder.
Blackness.
Silence.

6. INT. KITCHEN. MORNING.              6.
A silent shot of the eggs burned black.
Cecilia’s eyes.
Cecilia blinks.
A silent few moments of Cecilia at the bench, staring blankly ahead.
Distant footsteps grow louder.
The far door behind Cecilia opens and OSCAR enters.
Oscar closes the door behind him and turns.

OSCAR
Oh, you’re awake?

Cecilia continues to stare blankly ahead.

CECILIA
How was your meeting?

OSCAR
Hmm? Oh, yeah, it was good…

Oscar takes off his jacket and places it on a hanger.
A lipstick mark on his shirt collar is revealed.
Oscar nonchalantly enters the kitchen. He stops as he reaches the stove.

OSCAR (cont’d)
The eggs are burned.

Cecilia sniffs and continues to stare blankly ahead.

OSCAR (cont’d)
Do you want me to make some more?

CECILIA
There aren’t any left.

Oscar stares at the back of Cecilia’s head.
He walks over to her and places his hands on her shoulders.
Cecilia blinks as he begins massaging her.
Silence but for the sound of their breathing.
A tear trickles down Cecilia’s cheek.

CECILIA (cont’d)
Where’s your ring, Oscar? I can’t feel your ring on my shoulder.

Oscar stops massaging.

OSCAR
Um… I’m not sure. I must have taken it off to shave or something before I left… It’s probably still in the bathroom…

Oscar turns and begins to walk out into the bathroom.
His hand slips into his pocket and withdraws his wedding ring.
Cecilia wipes away a second tear.

CECILIA
I can smell her perfume, Oscar.

Oscar stops dead still.
A beat.

CECILIA (cont’d)
Just go.

Silence.
Oscar swallows and kneads his hand up his face before turning.

OSCAR
Cecilia, I-

CECILIA
JUST GO!

Cecilia trembles quietly, still staring away from Oscar.

CECILIA (cont’d)
Go and don’t look back.

Oscar stands looking at Cecilia with watering eyes.
He blinks and slowly turns back to the front door.

7. INT/EXT. KITCHEN/

We see the front door from the outside.
It opens inwards, revealing Oscar.
Oscar stands for some time staring blankly ahead, before casting a solemn look back.
Cecilia is still facing the opposite wall.
Oscar slowly turns back and exits, walking out of frame. The door closes gently behind him and clicks shut.
Cut to black.

-END-

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/09/06 at 2:56 am

Earth's Checkup
a 400-word university musing

http://www.stevenspublishing.com/stevens/epPub.nsf/d3d5b4f938b22b6e8625670c006dbc58/9986f5163662c35786256a25006a09cc/$FILE/Sick%20Earth%20sick-1.jpg

EARTH: Morning, Doc.

DOCTOR: Ah, Earth. Long time, no see. Then again, I’d say you’re getting a bit too much ‘sea’ judging by the state of those melting icecaps.

EARTH:  Yeah, I know. Equator getting a bit too round…

DOCTOR: I’m serious, Earth. I’ve just been going over your test results and things are not looking good.

EARTH: Really?

DOCTOR: Really. Your core temperature and atmospheric pressure are high, your sidereal revolutions are irregular and you could really do with a thorough volcanic irrigation.

EARTH: But I’m still in good shape, right? Well, besides the bulge, of course…

DOCTOR: Earth, let me be frank. The real reason I called you in today is… gosh, I don’t know quite how to tell you this…

EARTH: What’s wrong?

DOCTOR: Earth, you’re HIV positive.

EARTH: Sorry?

DOCTOR: You have the Human Inhabitant Virus.

EARTH: But that’s impossible! How long have I had humans?

DOCTOR: Oh, I’d say at least 250,000 years.

EARTH: Is it bad, Doc?

DOCTOR: It’s pretty bad, alright. As you can see from this map of your body, you started off with a benign infestation around Africa here, but they later began spreading throughout your entire terrestrial structure. These humans are slowly leeching all your nutrients and excreting poisonous chemicals into your system during the process.

EARTH: Oh, God!

DOCTOR: Yes, we think God may be behind it… I take it you weren’t protected during the Big Bang? Anyway, now is the time to consider how to go about treatment.

EARTH: What are my options?

DOCTOR: Hmm… as a professional, I would strongly advise against having you swing out of your current heliocentric orbit. The side effects would include tectonic inflammation, tidal disfunction and tenderness in the tropics.

EARTH: Well, what then?

DOCTOR: Earth, I have an alternative treatment in mind...

EARTH: Okay, try me.

DOCTOR: Nothing.

EARTH: Nothing?!

DOCTORS: Well, at the current rates that they are reproducing, your humans will inevitably begin attacking one another in order to survive.

EARTH: So, just leave them and they’ll get rid of themselves?

DOCTOR: A nuclear war or two, some natural disasters, a global pandemic here and there… take two asteroids and see me next millennia. Your Human Inhabitant Virus should be completely cured by then!

EARTH: Thanks, Doc.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 08/11/06 at 3:26 am

WARNING: Coarse language

Cannot find server

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/136/6/8/O/136688647O065137531.jpg
http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/136/6/8/O/136688647O065137531.jpg

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/01/06 at 1:43 am

WARNING: Mature theme, coarse language, content may offend

Wabo

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/144/1/0/O/144106738O936813705.jpg

I'm a pale male chump with small genitalia
Whack at basketball, a krump dance failure
I lack tact masked in Yolngu-fashioned regalia
Man, I’m acting blacker than half of outback Australia

Sick of bein’ pigeonholed as a Christian putz
Bitchslapped by strict religious scripture stuff
I've ditched it and switched to being indigenous
With pictures on bark, didgeridoos and dot images

I’m a left-wing nut protesting for black land rights
Though the general rule is not to mix coloreds and whites
Upped my recommended daily intake of Coon cheese
But I hate the smell of petrol, so I sniff anti-freeze

Hang a red, black and yellow flag from my pocket
You earn truckloads packin’ an AbStudy docket
Dress like a loser, I’m a slob who quit my job
I was born a wog, so I’m used ta hanging with ‘the mob’.

My first ceremony got me locked behind bars
I thought that corroborees involved the robbing of cars
Do ancestors accept converted young Kooris?
Well, I guess that they classify as a 'hung jury'

I’m a Wabo, wanna be an Aborigine, see
As for native blood, you will not find a smidgen in me
I’m a Wabo, wanna be an Aborigine, see
At the Sydney Harbour Bridge I’ll spear some pigeons for tea
I’m a Wabo, wanna be an Aborigine, see
I’ll teehee vernacularising white English with glee 
I’m a Wabo, wanna be an Aborigine, see
Indigenous is what I’m itchin’ to be

Joined their AFL team and ran out of steam, man
“Call that white fulla ‘couz’? Brah, tell him he’s Dreamin’!”
Sit here with us at the very rear of the bus
Everyone must defeat the war on Terra-Nullius

From the Nullabor’s cool blue hues to Uluru
Wool socks full of bull ants is really cruel, it’s true
So I’ve tossed my clothes and ditched my Dunlop Volleys
Trekkin’ nekkid with bunyips, sucking on gumdrop lollies

Sandals all full of sand as I tread the headland
Red spans the horizon. Mate, I’m a dead man
Got no Torres Strait traits. Need full-fledged native mates
They make a banquet plate of vegetative tastes

I’ma rich whitey-turned-whiney-bitch in the scrub
Pinching the bridge of my nose when eating witchety grubs
But I’m hardcore Wabo- all out dirty and raw
Lowering my life expectancy to thirty four!

A phony uni loner reeking of toner
Brattoni: Traditional Honky Land-Owner?
Face it, I’m a Caucasian coward, not Murri.
But at least, unlike John Howard, I feel “Sorry.”

I’m a Wabo, wanna be an Aborigine, see
As for native blood, you will not find a smidgen in me
I’m a Wabo, wanna be an Aborigine, see
At the Sydney Harbour Bridge I’ll spear some pigeons for tea
I’m a Wabo, wanna be an Aborigine, see
I’ll teehee vernacularising white English with glee 
I’m a Wabo, wanna be an Aborigine, see
Indigenous is what I’m itchin’ to be

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/03/06 at 7:32 am

WARNING: Some coarse language, content may offend

Save Africa!
to the tune of 'La Resistance (Medley)' from South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut
http://site.ticklespop.com/2003/starvin.gif
Video clip

Walk a mile to get to your train
Blockading the station is a stand
Some missionaries position (hee!)
Inciting holy visionaries


"But lo, we'll need dimes in hand!"

You watch a cricket game
The telly clear and bright
Next ad, there's children maimed
With flaming heads alight


"We all need your support
To help these Africans."

You oblige... their insistence is strong!

You may get jabbed in the chest
With a pamphlet clipboard
Old dames adorned in vests
Will milk out your remorse
Go door-to-door in twos
With a long spiel and golden pen for
You to sign... thus enlisting your funds!


"Shamed affluence!
Extravagance!"


"These third world countries are bone dry,
Give dollars now or they will die!"




"Help solve the plight!
And spare some change!
Help solve the plight!
Send it in today!
It's the solution!
Don't be tight!
Help solve the plight!"


"Down here, it's a massive tomb,
Where bodies burn in clouds of fumes!
A horrid sight of terror 'n' gloom

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/11/06 at 9:47 am

WARNING: Sexual references, content may offend

Shorty Is A Midget
to the tune of 'Shorty Is A Dancer' by DZK

http://www.footlightsgallery.com/imagelg/littlewomen.jpg
Audio

Very undersized little body
Yeah, her height's rivalling Barbie's
She's tiny, understacked
The smallest fry, with a 'stuntman' knack

Cops flak, abused by termites and small silverfish
You midgets will soon learn what 'little' is
So scant, a min-im-al-ist, this pygmy sits
Two-feet high like the shrimpiest infant is
She's a Lilliputian, it gives the illusion
That she's distant... which is confusin'
Look at this cute miniature human
She's proving that booster-seats can be seducin'

Stand really tall, you damn little dwarf!
Man, you're so small, it's a wonder!
When shorty leaves the house she rides in a pram or
Roars 'round atop a mouse like a damn horse
She's pitiful, horribly misfortunate
Cuz her little pixie body's disproportionate
To not crash, she has crates that are stacked up in
The driver’s seat to see past the dash, when she's gas-pumpin'

Body as small as dill pickles
So she bought silly new stilts to help lift her out
From the insect crowds; it's loud
When you're sixteen inches above the ground
(With 'em!)
Livin' down 'round your stinky sneakers
A hanky for a towel. She talks squeaky, high-pitched
Teensy-weensy young squirt who's elfish
This gal is less than half the length that my belt is!
Auditioned for Twelfth Night, got shelved with
Tinkerbell's bit

"She's no Shaq, her puny span isn't B-I-G.
Yeah, to us, we think she's tiny!"
(Yo, she's tiny!)

Stand really tall, you damn little dwarf!
Man, you're so small, it's a wonder!
When shorty walks about, she's bullied by ant hordes
Scorned by all dwarves, she shouts out ‘You’re manwhores!’
She's pretty small, hardly an enormous miss
For her contraception? Aglets on her shopping list!
‘A little short’, so I thought that she’d want money
If anybody calls her a ‘halfwit’... that’s not funny!

Mini Me’s babe. Hitched as his bride, yup
Fricking gets pissed off if sidewalks rise up
Even with a height (limit when in) line for a ride, she’ll
Just trick the guide, wearing nine-inch high-heels
Her wage decreases if she won’t sing ‘Hi Ho’
She never sleeps because ants snore all night long
Snow White makes her scrub, mop and wipe up
Humping dandruff snowmen? She’s no tall Goliath…
Gets tripped up in webbing of spiders
Your steps sound like earthquakes
To her Oompah Loompah gait
Everyday she keeps missing high-fivers
Loves to play pranks
Cuz her life’s knee-deep with such pint-sized fun!

Stand really tall, you damn little dwarf!
Man, you're so small, it's a wonder
When shorty hears cats pounce, she whips out her handgun
Wants to be Tom Thumb’s spouse cuz he's handsome
She’s miniscule, obviously a Smurfy girl
Taller when she’s horizontal than when vertical
She’ll eat the scraps from a cake and shortbread luncheon
But please, nobody mention the fact she is half-Munchkin

Shorty’s the smallest sprout, she’s a damn dwarf!
Shorty’s the smallest sprout, she’s a damn dwarf!
Shorty’s the smallest sprout, she’s a damn dwarf!
Shorty’s the smallest sprout, cuz…

"She's petite!
Pixie dust? Yeah, man, she’s tiny!"
(She’s tiny!)

"Hahahahaha! Ahahahaha!
Ahhh…  whatchoo talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?"

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/14/06 at 10:33 am

WARNING: Crude humour, mature themes, coarse language, content may offend

White Man's Burden

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/148/3/6/O/148362554O321047005.jpg

This cracker spits out hack acts like bits of tobacco tar
A lyrically spectacular epic vernacular
Satirically-lacquered lips dripping… it’s the wacko star
The illest, witty outback umbilical Dracula
Hear me and fear more feral raps hacked from their metal shackles
I’ll snap hecklers’ chicken necks right out their feather hackles
You’re just pathetic, please descend a pair of testicles
Cannibalistic Hannibal Lecter delectables

Imperfect dialects are honestly despicable
Respect Ebonics? Have you worn defective spectacles?
This idiotic jackal cackles at black ridicule
Cuz hackneyed glitz in hiphop videos is simply pitiful
Nitwits in bling publishing rubbish, please just quit it, fools
Barbaric, awful and ugly… it’s hardly submittable
I’ll smack you crack-addicted hacks back to your public school
Where dumb kids think tracks by Nib Oswald are f***ing comical

I’m spurtin’ out the finest f***in lines and wordin’
Determined to wipe out you vile, spiteful vermin
When burning up the microphone, goodnight- it’s curtains
You herbs will go bye-bye just like Steve ‘Crikey’ Irwin
Disturbed? My mind’s a blurring line like Tyler Durden’s
The verbal climax, so I rinse with vials of Jergens
Words spurning coloured persons, all their rhymes and slurred in
Refining urban writing… yeah, that’s white man’s burden

I’ll grab a nine-inch razor blade to Shave the Privates of Ryan
Oh s***, it slipped and… hey! It’s time to play The Game known as “Crying”
Anyway, mate, a Male is just a ‘Fe’male without the iron…
(Am I so wry or what? No playin’, yo, I’m honestly dyin’!)
Why even try and triumph against Nib, the linguistic lion?
Skills Sir Mountain so much it’s like the Queen has just knighted Zion
I’m a virus, sound the sirens now, the roof is on fire
WOOF! I’ll light crosses on your lawns then hand out Ku Klux Klan fliers

This verbal pervert murders verses in a violent spree
A middle finger up to rap’s stigmatic silent ‘c’
Eminem's synonym, the mimic that you try and beat
Get me a parrot, cuz I’m captain of black piracy
I’m just a gimmick? Why not wait a f***in’ while and see?
These lyrics s*** on Tzaichovsky plonking some ivory
In five months’ time, I’ll be the only one at the uni library
Alone by myself in line to hire my CD made through bribery

Hip-hop club ‘hits’ are simple anagrams for 's***', you see
While 'this' is the best kid to spit up in this industry
The mental centre holds a sentimental whim to me
Nib Oswald’s witty puzzling riddles live in infamy
Most honky folk belong in the throng of rich loan bankers
I’m the joker in a thong wanking off in broke frangers
Don’t want to get your mum pregnant and so I won’t bang her
Oh, hang on… this time we didn’t forget a coathanger

I’m spurtin’ out the finest f***in lines and wordin’
Determined to wipe out you vile, spiteful vermin
When burning up the microphone, goodnight- it’s curtains
You herbs will go bye-bye just like Steve ‘Crikey’ Irwin
Preserving my man-hymen due to Bible sermons
Must hurt to be annihilated… by a virgin
Words spurning coloured persons like a rightwing German
Refining urban writing… yeah, that’s white man’s burden

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/14/06 at 3:17 pm

WARNING: Crude humour, sexual references, content may offend

Pun Issuer

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/40/6/4/O/40646841O489110547.jpg

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel… let down your hair.”
“Nib’s rap-puns’ll let everybody down, dear.”

I’m back and scripting again, that’s how I just flippin’ get off
I’ll rip your head off with lyrics that cause suicidal beats
What spits from my pen tip snipes you ‘F’ers like you’re in Texas
Left dripping red stuff like bridal suites do with new whitened sheets
I speak of spastic pedantic antics I plan to act on
Satanic practise, black magic and Jackson-off in kids’ beds
Grab truncheons, fellows, this Punchinello will munch on children
Forcefeed him jelly to jam the hell up and preserve him dead
My commentaries ‘so past ya’ like Amish farmers in paddocks
You gormless lummox! Why ‘berry’ the hatchet? ‘Punnet’ instead!
Don’t shriek in panic. Freaking erratic, manic, this maverick ‘reeks’ havoc
Like platters full of rank week-old haddock fish heads

Nib’s called the Pun Gent cuz his repugnant puns are incumbent
I’m coming second to nun? Then I’m punching that dumb bitch dead
This pundit funny pun issuer runs his abundant punchlines
To puncture frontlines of punks and leave no-one unpunishéd

The Pun Issuer: what this pun ish meant
It’s fun dishing out this brilliance don’t ya understand
The Pun Issuer: what this pun ish meant
I’m dumb, so this is my life mission accomplishment

My really wack hellion Machiavellian gags are absurdist
‘biN backwards’, like Doc and Michael J ‘back-to-the-future’ Fox
So Boston threw its ‘tee’ out? Unheard of! Now take YOUR shirt off
A virgin acronym pseudonym… get it? I’m ‘New In Box’
Stop mining my one-liners, they surely can’t be that ore-full
When I smoked near bushfire victims I learned Dermal Spray-on burns
I love my mother-in-law, that body must be unlawful
Who needs a blow-up doll or girlfriend when I can play on words!
I’m ill as cancer patients, as tight as your grandma’s corset
I paw through panties in laundry baskets to smell the wet crotch
So coarse that I ain’t ever tapped ass, man, I have to ‘faucet’
Authors, turn your fantasy into a best cellar… just watch!

Nib’s called the Pun Gent cuz his repugnant puns are incumbent
I’m coming second to nun? Then I’m punching that dumb bitch dead
This pundit funny pun issuer runs his abundant punchlines
To puncture frontlines of punks and leave no-one unpunishéd

The Pun Issuer: what this pun ish meant
It’s fun dishing out this brilliance don’t ya understand
The Pun Issuer: what this pun ish meant
I’m dumb, so this is my life mission accomplishment

Prevented missed conception by rending my contraception?
Pro-Lifers will not ‘de-foetus’… you’ve got a tongue, ‘fork it out’
You think that I’m pretending, just genre-feeding convention?
Well, test your anal retention by rinsing your talks*** mouth
I’ll burrow through my marrow until I just cannot feel there
Disfigure myself by dragging a jigsaw across my legs
A paraplegic stand-up comedian in a wheelchair?
The irony sounds worth only ever getting pity sex
Another hare-brained scheme brought to you by the frigging tortoise
Aborting a kid with chopsticks is my idea of romance
I’ve thought of so much deadpan my cortex has rigor mortis
But still it is far more active than anything in my pants

Nib’s called the Pun Gent cuz his repugnant puns are incumbent
I’m coming second to nun? Then I’m punching that dumb bitch dead
This pundit funny pun issuer runs his abundant punchlines
To puncture frontlines of punks and leave no-one unpunishéd

The Pun Issuer: what this pun ish meant
The Pun Issuer: what this pun ish meant
The Pun Issuer: what this pun ish meant
The Pun Issuer

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/15/06 at 3:31 am

WARNING: Mature theme

Horsemen of the Apocalypse- Insane Joker Lyricists collaboration

http://www.bookofrevelation.net/ch6_pat_11_4%20horsemen_small.jpg

Narration: SmokaJoka
Antichrist: Illus'Artis
War: L.I.
Famine: Laureate
Death: Nib Oswald

In the book of age...comes the apocalyptic haven
In the scriptures of The Book....chapter six - revelations
Translations of the Horsemen have been studied for centuries..
The antichrist, war, famine, and finally...death and misery...
The skies become darker by the day as lightning tore
The sky, as the first rider approached the world...on a white horse


Since Ancient Of Days-
Dreams prophecies unveiling biblical scenes from heavenly to earthly beings
Revelation giving heed about the wrath of the king of kings.
No man knows the time or hour when the thief in the night proceeds
To snatch his people with silence and speed. The left behind in dis-belief
Conceive this event an unknown catastrophe. Events in the heavens
An Angel voice stretches, who is worthy to open the scroll of the seven ?
Debated or questioned, finally the Lion of Judah root of David
Everyone awaited has revealed only he can take the seal and break it,
Because of his blood and sacrifice, then after the tribulation takes flight.
A white horseman on plight believe to be the antichrist, ready to strike.
With deceiving power, to the earth ..he comes with a crown and bow.
This spirit causes a crucial blow, he's a cunning foe so no need for arrows.
Worshipped as a Pharaoh, very clever his choice of weapon
His high tech deception and he'll come for the right hand or forehead.
Deny your dead off with the head, nor remorse from this horseman.
Is this the end, wars rumors of wars starts to sour .......


Earth...divided and conquered...thunder rolls even more
The second rider...on a blood red horse falls from the sky...for war


The sparks of betrayal trigger militant conflict
The bombs sent spark anger inside the convicts
A seize to peace as all the good luck

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/18/06 at 4:28 am

WARNING: Coarse language, sexual references, content may offend

Freestyle Rap Disses
Bulldog Diablo, Laureate and Intrepidation

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/149/8/1/O/149817226O142470001.jpg

Lau's crying now...you just can't tell when gook teardrops drizzle
Mini-soda? Yeah, your presence is a tiny pop fizzle
It's funny you're from South 'Korea', cuz that's where your 'career' is headed
You got no fuel to your fire, possibly because you're unleaded
(Here, let me change that...*click*)
Your home town is the closest you gettin' to any Twins
Musta battled a retirement home to get so many wins
Don't mention his sig quotes Canibus... who could seriously resist?
I must be have been Insane or Joking to be seen with this Lyricist
The end of Laureate's ego trip? Cash your ticket... of course it is
Now let him Nibble on these chips covered with tomato SARS a bit

"F*** you c**ts are quick"
...that's right, unlike your style of just f***ing c**ts quick
Which for you is like prodding a whale with a blunt stick
The only time you've left a chick feeling 'satisfied' thus far
Was buying her a dildo and a Snickers bar
Thanks for setting back the status of every Australian rapper
Practise what you preach? Man, you must LIVE in a crapper
What this kid lacks in talent he compensates with persistence
Jeez, you just sealed the Sydney/Melbourne debate with your existence

Ha! Laureate tryna to rip it? How poetically insipid
I'll call ya Laura the Explorer... the amount of time you spend being inTrepid!
Fudge packers. Trep's cracker voice smacks of more Twin lovin' than Bob Saget
He's TradeMarked the Evolutionary chart walking backward
Like putting down a dying dog, I'll have to be fair and write this
Trep sucks. Official Voice of LLL?... pray for laryngitis
Sore losers, lips pursed like tweeny bags
And it looks like Bulldog's fled home with his tail between his legs

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/19/06 at 4:10 am

Weather Report
for Squeeze's weather channel audition tape

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/149/8/2/O/149827940O436210276.jpg

Good morning.
For today

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/21/06 at 12:50 am

WARNING: Drug themes

You're My Drug
Extended song recording edit

http://www.online-drug-source.com/images/mixer.jpg

When you walk in the door I'm ecstatic
You are making me sweat like an addict
My eyes drink you up like a fine liquor
I am awestruck by your divine figure
When you speak out, it strengthens my habit
For I swallow each word like a tablet
My lungs fill up with your thick and lush fumes
You make me feel so high just like mushrooms

You're my crack, you

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/21/06 at 12:58 am

WARNING: Sexual references. Content may offend.

My Special Girl

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/handicapped.bmp

My girlfriend

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/21/06 at 1:00 am

WARNING: Sexual references

Lukewarm Lovin'

http://www.aperfectworld.org/cartoons/blind_date.png

When you enter the room, girl, my heart maintains standard pace
My skin will often bloom small gosling-bumps from your embrace
Indifferent to your smiles, you

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/21/06 at 1:05 am

WARNING: Mild sexual references

Corpus Delectable

http://www.uwo.ca/anatomy/davinciman_files/davinciman.jpg

My dear, when you're near, feel my heart go aflutter
You suddenly spark off a cardial shudder
The blood in my arteries starts to pump hotter
I'm pulsing with love from my thumping aorta
Your eminence gently comes entering into
My ventricles, spanning my entire centre
All rents in my skin start to mend, no pretendin'
Your loveliness is my new Achille's tendon

Perspiration, respiration
Subcutaneous love

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/21/06 at 1:09 am

WARNING: Sexual references

A Girl Who's Six Feet High

http://www.5thpercentile.com/archives/TallGirl.jpg

I'm getting sick of always having to screw midgets
So now I want a chick who's seventy-two inches
They often say that once you have had ectomorphics
All other women afterward will seem like dwarf chicks
My prior preference was a dame who's pulchritudinous
But now I'm after 'gangly, lank and altitudinous'
A girl with quite a hyperactive thyroid gland
I want to date a titanous leviathan

I really want to try a sexy six-foot sprout
Because I hear those giantessy chicks put out
I get so lonely as a rather lofty guy
I need someone who's warm and soft and six feet high

The boyfriend of some model's who I want to be
I've tried for quality girls, now for quantity
We'll probably shop round for high-rise property
'Woman on top'? Sure, baby, get on top of me
I

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/22/06 at 3:56 am

WARNING: Mature theme, some coarse language

Break Up
to the tune of 'Unfaithful' by Rihanna

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/150/7/3/O/150732207O414111738.jpg
Audio

Gory from my knife
Butchered, hacked and sliced
Blood will seep so violently
Torso skewered whole
Guts and bleeding lungs
If you think of dumping me

I

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/22/06 at 11:03 pm

WARNING: Drug references

Drunken Binge
to the tune of 'London Bridge' by Fergie

http://www.92profm.com/albums/gio-and-kim/fergie_pee1.jpeg

Audio

Sloshed chick!
(Sloshed chick!) (Sloshed chick!)
Sloshed chick!
(Sloshed chick!) (Sloshed chick!)
Sloshed chick!
(Sloshed chick!) (Sloshed chick!)

Walk unsteady like this.

Sloshed chick!
(Sloshed chick!) (Sloshed chick!)

Yo!
Tipsy.
Turps it.
Drunk here!
Blotto!
Bundaberg in cups, lady!

When she comes to the pub for a night
B&Bs? She

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/24/06 at 3:54 am

Preschool Work
to the tune of High School Girls by DZK (explicit content)

http://www.kidsinperth.com/htm/KIP%20100/images/Pg%2025%20playschool.jpg

Neonates!
Let's go play g-a-a-a-ames!
(Kiddies!)
I loathe these babes!

Class, sit down in a group for discussion
If you are under eight, I'm telling you something
Ditch your crib, grab your bib and rush in
All you infant bubbies with your teddies and pink cushions
Paper and pens taken from all my office drawers
With glitter markers, some chalk and a box of straws
Will make a mess on the floor as you mix through
Some milk, ink and flour until it's in a thick dough

Before kindergarten, fun class should be taught
But each kid has got lots of snacks to be bought
Must teach you young friends what isn't permissible
You're all fiddling with chemicals that prove immiscible
Each tiny mind reciting the alphabet
Is a kid with know-how, acquiring the wealth of it
I

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/27/06 at 6:56 am

WARNING: Coarse language, mature themes, content may offend

Booyah! (updated)
http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/booyah.jpg
A 'Refresh'ing parody of www.mail.yahoo.com

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Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 09/30/06 at 9:15 am

WARNING: Crude humour, mature themes, coarse language, sexual references, content may offend

The Farce Side (continued)

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the farce side farce side cartoons toons funny inane insane in vain parody puerile innuendo goof foul vulgar vile abhorrent hilarity moronity idiotic aborted foetus it's humour not humor comic strip smartass bowl of shutthefudgeup suddenly a used tampon i have a vase for a head dammit gravy walrus wheelchair random wtf andy warhol can of soup pursued by a turbo-rocket-driven goldfish phantom of the opera interpretative pants braveheart sneeze freedom mr garrison south park fag hairdresser where's waldo walk it off pitchfork in head conveyor belt apples dead employee capital of romania fire extinguisher ingeniousness bodily orifice stuffed with gum sneeze eye roll snape kills dumbledore da vinci code one size fits most homestarrunner shirts banal puzzles not tonight dear i've got AIDS mooooose aaahh!!! headless stick figure xbox where's amy periodic table of elements post-modern artsy fartsy lots of words repetition tying my shoelaces together psychiatrist CHRISTMAS!!! sniper stupid tweens wearing roller shoes deja vu adam and eve Dakota Fanning Jaws theme scarfed pastels Gary Coleman guava horizontally apt wingdings thanks captain obvious badge decapitated pikachu running gag fifth of the month not really break dancing not another teen movie 2 beatboxing beaver exorcist harlequin fetus omen 666 bring it bitch leprechaun lexicon frying pan hit everything appears to be in order handed in my assesment vulture emaciated African humblebee Patrick Magee pustulent loyal jelly cola plural of colon dictionary.com wikipedia.org aids jokes standup congratulations you have just been entered into my mental bank of onanistic subject matter wolf in pocket Hawaii Angelina Jolie charity alphabet not again plummet googlewhack gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooal hour drawing yourself JIGARAM Geography pediatrist podiatrist duck feet baby i don't know whether to vomit or masturbate sex cymbal lamest two-panel cartoon ever your ancestry is endearing Roger Ramjet helicopter jelly area of a trapezium dispwned feeling down molested Daisy Duck what does this button do whimsical pop-culture references hello kitty miffy enjoy the badge muffin head sudoku polish dogs missy higgins triangoool ancherrr guitar privilges revoked twenty-eight months americans=stupid heaveno not happening eggs mutant Satan catholic church defensive vestry lilac robes papacy issue by jove i like the feel of spandex rabbi comedian steamroller tumbleweed socceroo yak semen you say what now?! navel licked emo kid collector card diary entry emo attack what's the time mr wolf stereotype fudgenugget Skittles regurgitating bucket jelly boom headshot palindrome of sorts free ringtone outrun outswim outclick survivor Nicole Richie college frat boy drink beer boxing gloves pee while sitting down zidane headbutt materazzi victory catheter whatchoo talkin' 'bout Willis new product manpax bachelor pads hevy duty anal absorbence Weird Al walk of fame star quicksand cement spatula man class dismissed myspace.com tom friends reggie millet nuthin' but net answers in question form cartoon maintenance Gary Larson Far Side Russian dolls hemp dung fertiliser vegan technically not a cannibal foetus radar Soviet Union Bloc Party Missy Elliott this is not a test invisibility tablets slide show disproportionate head laptop fingerpad magnifying glass correct method for calculating unit market depreciation blue-chip ventures sauce bandito moustache quadrilateral genitals search engine fodder Sailor Uranus Luke Brattoni sexy biatch obscure thread scream atrophy sufferer day sp avatar fashionable 5 4 3 2 1 muffinhead vasehead wtf monster sushi invisibility gag nib warm urine Sherlock Holmes power outlet babies child support absorbency absorbent wanna buy my armpit david hasselhoff chuck norris hoff karate japanese Poopsie painting moose Viking cowboy bar time of day makeout Futurama future city old chamber of secrets has been opened enemies of the heir beware malignance esme bag o'gravy walrus sprint alex emiko sapna nietzsche roots orthodox bra strap anagram abacus gigantic dildo world peace mutton dressed in LAMB Chucky G I blame you Ron Burgundy you just got served bitch gravity Isaac Newton lilac scrapped Steve Irwin dead inguinal hernia herniaade equinox streetie street baalalalaahaghgh laughing stock ironed shirt w4nx0r 4am go home daylight savings five o' clock chadow demonically-possessed body loofah silverchair neon ballroom hi5 september 11 fifth anniversary wood quinquennial mourning blow jobs erection howdy hiya google earth I love Emi Asian cuisine bandaid earwig mandible hygienic bikini sticker unbeknownst Olympic rings Antarctica international Asians Jackie Chan talk like a pilot pirate day Love Bunnies l'amour est la merde du monde Krispy Kreme not funny Tickle Me Elmo Xtreme praise Allah kazoo Baby Phat neice shampoo very thoroughly Nib shift Manateese Giraffian Llamii North Portugleutch gotcha ultimate indignity married to the sea muthafudgea cherub pennyfarthing Harry Potter 7 Islam Gary Larson 70000 hits striptease bipolar yet another boring day anime music video Samurai Pizza Cats Don't Leech Images Nikki Webster Strawberry Kisses it's ass sealants Brian Peppers Santa October stop the murder zebra crossing Rodney McPunsalot on my period irony Alanis Morisette ironic goddamn mustard hot dog articulated python leviosa cash cheque credit corsage crossword who the fudge are you jerked off tampon baby pot pourri smoking pixels Gene X Down's Syndrom kids dancing with dolphins I got nuthin' eau de toilette mirror suppressed male identity manifesting reflection spitroast washington state dollar bill elevator jump American Indian Kramer Michael Richards Sarah Oh

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Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/05/06 at 4:04 pm

Minds Are Like Parachutes

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Image source

Attention passengers
If you would please look above your head
You will observe your thought processes
Being switched onto red
As we pass over the state
Of meditation anaesthesia
You mind will now demonstrate
Correct contemplation procedure


Needle drop

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/13/06 at 10:24 pm

WARNING: Mature theme

Take A Life And Get One Free

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Twisting
Ague
Knot
Echo

Again.

Love
Itself?
Forever
Extirpable,

ANDrogyne.

A man standing stranded in the phantomland of abandon
One hand clapping in tandem to an empty anthem
Trapped in pre-memorandum of an impending calamity
His verdict wrapped in tendril strands of pitifully damned amnesty
Tempting chance in the antechamber with a forsaken dice
Random ebony spiral and landing on snake eyes
Acceptance breaks the silence with blind shrieking cries
The opaque answer scribed in blank vacant skies

A congregation of one-winged Rorschach butterflies

Adoration. Obligation. A fatal combination
Desecrating the consecration of love

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/14/06 at 4:25 am

Stages Of Grief

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Truth kisses pride with gospel lips
A tooth missing in my crocodile smile
Bile backwash and more forceful sips
From vials of shock

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/15/06 at 9:14 pm

WARNING: Mass payout theme

Happy Birthday Lucy

http://photo-origin.tickle.com/image/157/6/8/O/157685545O997574737.jpg

May you always keep on singing
And dancing comedically
May your laughter keep on ringing
Onomatopoeically

May you always be as funky
As a pair of ABBA boots
May you be a total "flunky"
With a little hint of "Husz!"

May you always be more spicy
Than a juicy peppered steak
May you stay sweeter than icing
On your Lucy Shepherd cake

May we always find you bubbly
As I know so many do
May your year ahead be lovely
Now that you've turned twenty two!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/19/06 at 12:41 am

WARNING: Some coarse language, crude humour.

Cranky whitey

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/untitled.jpg

I'm angry. Dang right, another cranky whitey
Bite me! My brain's quite a mangled psyche
I'm mighty dangerous when I'm raging nightly
Try me, you wankers will strain to outwrite me

Mini-Eminem, rapping black yet lacking mellanin
A felonous criminal that'll slap you gentleman
My venom'll attack, raps hack, slash your teguments
Your remnants will get tagged, bagged and stacked in evidence
The women are gagging, bragging about my eminence
Inseminating gaggles of these slags in them denim pants
Aint no impotence as I unpack gargantuan genitals
Getting sensually intimate, then shagging like animals

Hate me. Spite me. Cranky whitey
Blindly tryin

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/20/06 at 11:45 pm

WARNING: Mature theme

Bear Cage

http://www.creativescreenwriting.com/csdaily/csdart/images/2005-08-Aug/Sin%20City%20-%20He%20knows%20why%20the%20caged%20bird%20sings%20(350w).jpg

Clapped in chains
Rusted iron raping weals of raw flesh
Bloodied paws dance prayers upon hot coals
The spotlight sears like a magnifying glass
Licking every naked scar
Exposing white humiliation
Whipcrack across stripped back
Crowd roars

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/21/06 at 3:07 am

WARNING: Mature theme, some coarse language

A Bright Room Called Day

http://photo.ringo.com/159/159419947O115937219.jpg

This tiny black heart resides in life

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/26/06 at 2:32 am

WARNING: Mass payout themes

Bright Room Rap Up

http://photo.ringo.com/161/161083303O405437868.jpg

Play that flunky music, Weimar
Play that flunky music

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 11/02/06 at 2:19 am

WARNING: Some coarse language

One Of Those Sappy Songs

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Image source

Oh. Ohhh.
Oh. Oooeeeoooooh.

The opening notes drip like bitter teardrops
So sober and solemn, a-plippety-plop
A hushed a capella as the music stops
An obvious pretense for substanceless slop
The singer croons out with a tone of soft dread
They're wailing high notes like a wolf getting head
If somebody

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 11/04/06 at 3:02 am

WARNING: Crude humour, sexual references

The Punner's Song
to the tune of 'The Tennis Song' by City of Angels: The Musical

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STONE:
Your every joke has a butt

ALAURA:
My humour

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 11/14/06 at 7:07 am

WARNING: Content may offend

1-IN-6.4 BILLION

http://www.ocean.washington.edu/people/grads/scottv/exploraquarium/scaletrip/images/apollo.earth.500.jpg

The population is six-point-four billion in the world
But I want to discover who will be my true-love girl
See, as half of the global population's filled with men
That leaves me to choose my lover from three-point-two billion

Today's female life expectancy is near eighty-five
But generally, people marry ten years either side
Deducting those aged under nine or over twenty-nine
That leaves just four-hundred-and-eighty million to be mine

Of that, a vast majority are living overseas
Can't be my lover if you're Zambian or Taiwanese
So I'll have to deduct those who I guess I'll never see
Leaving around two-point-seven-two million chicks for me

However, there's a law against a girl who's under age
My 'eight-to-twenty-eight' requirement needs a different range
So changing it to ladies who have turned at least sixteen
That leaves one-point-seven-eight-five million girls to be seen

I want a wife whose intellect is quite above the mass
Don't want no stupid sheila in an apron for my lass
So, culling those with IQs under one-hundred-and-twenty
That leaves one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand, which is still plenty

But lo, a lot of women have a boyfriend or a groom
Deducting them, I'm left with twenty-thousand in the room
And then, about one in five females turns out to be gay
That leaves about sixteen thousand young ladies on display

However, issues like religion, politics and sports
May clash between us, so we have to factor them, of course
I am now left with several hundred women, five or six
Make that two hundred, because of my preference 'No Fat Chicks

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: EmiLoca on 11/22/06 at 9:59 pm


With an almighty roar, Hairy issues forth his shining white manjuice in sexual triumph.
It emanates outwards, blessing the surrounding night sky with his genetic glory.


Oh, you are soooo bannedzord.  It's a good thing I'm the only one outside of your continent who reads this compubasura

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 11/23/06 at 9:22 am

WARNING: Mature theme, coarse language, content may offend.

The (DED) Manifesto

http://photo.ringo.com/169/169132699O071314867.jpg


All men being born equal

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 11/26/06 at 10:12 pm

WARNING: Sexual references, some coarse language

Mum
to the tune of 'Run' by Snow Patrol

http://www.ilovebacon.com/011305/milf.jpg

A ring, one hundred diamond jewels
Ebbing feelings overflow
Like embers glowing in the light
You are the one

Your eyes are spheres of pulchritude
You're every angel's smile imbued
Soft snow-white flakes dance in your hair
Like playful deer

Light of my love
I'll kiss you as a boy
Breathing in hosanna's fearless joy
Die inside these blinding tears
Vowed devout love
Oh, please, Mum, be my wife
Don't call me a freak, I want your hand
F*** Dad off, please, divorce today

Caught in this spider web of lies
Breaks my poor heart up inside
And as this flame slowly expires
I fear adieu

Light of my love
My misted lash is moist
Every thing I had revered, destroyed
Smile and wipe my pride, it sears
Vowed devout love
But she'll shun all my cries
Why can't mother date a younger man?
Try to abate her boisterous rage
Dour, sour
You wrote a rhyme so sad
All I want's to grind your kiester, babe
Forget "bout your vows with my Dad

So hot, Mother
From out your seams I came
Can't revisit just for a few days?
Taking up on my lil' request?

Light of my love
I'll miss your love's embrace
Given in Platonic kindred ways
My true bride was my mum, yeah

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/09/06 at 12:48 am

Insatiable Curiosity

http://animals.timduru.org/dirlist/cat/Pussy6-HouseCatKitten-Baby-InCuriosity.jpg

Nine lives have the feline children
Astute kitten eyes beguiled by what they find hidden
Beneath roots of the forbidden fruit
Which ferment into divine wine spirits of wisdom
Extinguishing the fire of insatiable curiosities

Whiskers twitch in the sunlight shine
As the young bright mind of the child
Scrutinises life with muted sighs of inquisitive interest
Beauty viewed through the magnified iris of a smile
Eyelids blinded by the futile nature of lurid falsities

During this time, the pure na

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/09/06 at 12:56 am

WARNING: Mass payout theme

The Barmymale School Weakly Abuse Mulletin 2004

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Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/09/06 at 4:09 am

WARNING: Crude humour

When The Turd Strikes Back
(2004)
http://www.burgerlog.com/poop%20pictures/tommy%20turd.jpg

I went into the toilet and was hit by a pong
A gigantic turd one foot long, it was just wrong
I looked in the bowl and called out ‘Holy crap, y’all!’
I did fall and had to crawl back out into the hall

Over four inches thick, a stick of pure ick
So slick it made up one stinky brick
I needed to go badly, felt like I would burst
But I’d have to disperse of this giant turd first

It was coiled in the soiled toilet like a snake
I tried a royal flush to wash the pile away
But I was foiled, boiled with anger when- attack!
The gigantic block came floating back

When the turd strikes back
When the turd strikes back

I tried to laugh it off and mash it in half
But the bathtub of muck was now bigger than Metcalfe
Speckled flecks of fecal matter
Were splattered all over like a treacle pattern

I grabbed the toilet brush as I double flushed
It beat me over the head and rushed
Out at me to crack, hack and whack
It’s a terrible thing when the turd strikes back

When the turd strikes back
When the turd strikes back

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/09/06 at 4:12 am

Bridge To Terabithia
(1997)
http://photo.ringo.com/173/173011631O100600416.jpg

This land is a lovely place
A happy home for every race
The trees are mysterious
The owners seem delirious
Cow pats aren’t messy
Cuz they’re laid by Bessie
Spirits glide around this land
The King and Queen are quite grand
Among the trees the fort is hidden
Dare enter, Terabithia’s forbidden

Trees
Eagerness
Runners
Acorns
Beauty
Inadmissable
Tragic
Hatred
Isolated
Angry

Tall pine trees in the breeze
Rocks to be fallen on to skin knees
Fighting in sand helps this land
You have to act extremely grand
Joy as far as you can see with your eye
Clouds are separate in the sky
It’s a place that’s good to lie
Terabithia

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/10/06 at 5:46 am

WARNING: Mass payout theme

NGA Summer Scholarship 04

http://www.nga.gov.au/Exhibitions/images/SML/schlrshp.gif

Sarah rarely wears dresses, she

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/12/06 at 1:02 am

WARNING: Sexual references

Ode To Nadia Comaneci

http://www.directory.io/directory/images/Photos/Sports-and-Lifestyle/nadia-comaneci-split.jpg

Your scores outshine imperfect nines
Unifying your whole country

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/14/06 at 7:33 am

WARNING: Some coarse language

English Speaking Country, My Ass

http://www.bbc.co.uk/music/southbysouthwest/images/generic/usuk205x150.jpg

Pom: You twisted pricks label your oil as either 'rape' or 'virgin'?
Yank: Hey, your sick teachers frickin

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/17/06 at 11:49 pm

WARNING: Sexual references, some coarse language

Manual Abstinence

http://www.wankerclan.com/images/WANKER.jpg

My eyes observe the spinal curves and high-rise skirts of lithe young girls
Their bright and perky smiles of mirth pervert my mind with primal urge
This tidal surge of tribal verve inspires a stir of ripened nerves
A drive to flirt, divinely splurging, finally spurting, writhing merged

An obesity epidemic in children aint credible
When so many little kiddies

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 12/18/06 at 11:45 pm

Defend From Aliens Here
to the tune of 'Advance Australia Fair'

http://www.proaudioeurope.com/images/magazine/alien_attack.jpg

An aliens' holocaust destroys
With ray guns hung-err-eee
Huge ship patrols, with stealth they stole
O'er homeland, dirt and sea
Their drones, a devastation blitz
With duties: whizz and scare
Pain, misery, rage
Their spaceships guage
Defend from aliens here!
Destroy full plains
Their probing stings
Defend from aliens here!

Beneath invading 'other' forms
We're foiled by brain implants
They reproduce their offspring spawn
And infect all the lands
Those green men in their UFO
Brainwashing all from there
With microchips, clones, fighter ships
Defend from aliens here!
Enjoy full brains of Martian things
Our masters: aliens? Damn...

March 2004

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 01/02/07 at 1:42 am

Christmas For Us In The Povvo Part Of Town

http://www.kysq.org/away/04_europe/PC240203.JPG

The star on the Christmas tree twinkles
To the songs of a carolling choir
A coat of snowflakes softly sprinkles
On the windowsill beside the fire
A giant ham sits in the oven
The presents are stacked up in towers
Tis quite the scene of Christmas lovin

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 01/02/07 at 4:42 am

WARNING: Sexual references, drug references, coarse language, content may offend

'Larry Pot-Head' by Alessandro Brattoni
(a short parody of Hairy Potted that my younger brother wrote when he was thirteen)

http://photo.ringo.com/168/168414691O551206287.jpg

The Boy who Gived
Mr and Mrs Barsley, of number sixty nine, Confidential Drive, were ashamed to say that they were perfectly normal, you piece of rectum excitement. They were the last people you

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 01/24/07 at 3:35 am

WARNING: Mass payout theme

Philadelphia Cheese
Nib Oswald's brother's 18th birthday rap roast

http://photo.ringo.com/182/182793851O910407746.jpg

Listen to the recording! (uncensored)

This jerk emerged during birth, q***-squirted externally
The nurse measured his limbs and placed him on a gurney, see
Wheeled into maternity, he first glimpsed his fraternity
And said “F*** this, I’d prefer it in limbo for eternity!”
He swung his umbilical cord round like a goddamn noose, aimed
To lasso the roof fan and go out like Saddam Hussein
“Oh crap!” The membrane snapped, he fell, landed on his brain
No main arteries explains why this chap is still so vain

Alex is placid to talk to. He’s one passive Chuck
But still a titanic, rockhard thoracic jock
Afflicted with a syndrome known as ‘massive f***’
Walk your hulk ass back home to Jurassic Park!
Fell in an acid bath? Oh, no, that’s just his tan line
This man lines up deodorant cans like a damn shrine
Spends time in front of mirrors more often than Fran Fine
Can’t rhyme lyrics or one-liners, so he just scams mine

You’ll feel ill like jungle fever or a fungal plant sting
Reading thirty-six-hundred words of quite bungled planning
Cuz man, his Philanderer’s Stein spoof was dung-filled ranting
Alexander’s ‘sibling wannabe’ like young Elle Fanning
Just kidding. Hell, imagine having to live together
With friggin’ Nib as your bigger brother-slash-father figure
Most others would rather suck a shotgun and pluck the trigger
Than have put up with so much from such a f***ing wigga

So if you’re sexy to every red-blooded woman
If your bro’s Luke Brattoni, that f***in’ Mormon
Then get down with the sound that be bumpin’ on, man
And ceh-leh-bra-the til you burst, hey
A KFC employee, so minimum wagin’
Have a backyard nap when it’s hot, sunbathin’
Man, you know that your gonads are not unshaven
N***** what?! Today’s your eighteenth birthday

A one-man phalanx, Alex is his own battalion
This Brattoni’s known as Austritalian_Stallion
Oh, this bold and valiant man defies all physics credo
The whole galaxy revolves around his fricking ego
Clicking emo photographs of his own torso
His cap is a constant muse, new shoes even more so
Also, every other garment hung in his wardrobe
Born so poor, he’s flaunting all the clothes he can afford, yo

This braggart's thick like a brick slab of plaster and granite
Exposing those pecs on his chest would flabbergast Janet
Such abnormal fab showmanship, he surpasses ‘chick magnet’
That chiselled abdomen draws in every minx on the planet
That’s right, girls orbit him like satellite receivers. Christ, even
Norbert and Dagget cannot cite seeing that much tight beaver
Either Alex is God’s gift to women, or a fetid joke
There’s no way his gay behaviour equates him as hetero

If your wissy mum is singing ‘Truck And Trailer’
And you’re fending girlfriends off your genitalia
At the beach, no more need to be scared of whalers
Cuz you lost that puppy fat and girth, mate
If your chick is a six foot tall ditzy model
If you smother your mother with vicious cuddles
If your face is the shape of a Christmas bauble
N***** what?! Today’s your 18th Birthday

Yo, I only slander my bro because Alexander’s
Branded on my candid graph of potential sex panders
Below Geri, Beth Croker, EmiLoca and Sapna Sanders
I’d tap Alex’s ass like we were both captive pandas
But dammit, commandments of national standards ban it
So I have to one-hand it like some one-armed bandit
Til it hits January 15th on my calendar planner
(There’s no risk of inbred kids with family men enamoured)

Alex may stay up late having conversations with ladies
But they can’t compete, I’ve been his mate since natalhood, baby
He’s crazy for Ralph Lauren, eats his Weet Bix with a teaspoon
He pimped-out Mum’s old piece of s***, but aint seeing no P’s soon
Keep him off a skateboard or he’ll end up unconscious
Looking worse than when he copped those indigenous punches
In the fridge are his lunches: a six pack of lager?
God, as if his six pack needs to get larger… idiot...

If you’re stocky and cocky and mates with Coward
And you charm girls from drama without no flowers
But with Beckham-like slick metrosexual powers
You’re the f**giest man on earth, gay
If since eight, emulating your brother’s cussin’
You said crap to your stepmum that was disgustin’
If you laughed ankle-tappin’ your year-old cousin
N***** what?! Today’s your 18th birthday!

Today is your motherf***ing fathersucking cousingshucking brotherbucking longlostunclesuckling auntytucking nonnac***ing birthday.
So if you do not enjoy this day, my friend, I'll come over there and KICK YOU IN THE FACE.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 01/30/07 at 2:12 am

WARNING: Coarse language, content may offend

BLONDEGiRL914 Stole My Dakota Fanning Video

http://images.amazon.com/images/P/B00005JM39.01._AA240_SCLZZZZZZZ_.jpg

Listen to the MP3!

“Hi there, I’m BLONDEGiRL but you guys can call me Winona
Cuz I only ever steal stuff and then claim I’m the owner
Just a talentless loner. No aptitudes, to be brief
My only merits are abilities as an internet thief!”

Seriously, this is a YouTube message to that peppy brainless hack
Kleptomaniac… BLONDEGiRL914.

I loaded a Dakota video on YouTube
When it got stolen by some totally stupid noob
A ruthlessly hopeless, clueless, boobless rube
Bet she’s a testtube baby from a urine sample, dude

She sent me a kudos note, but her motive was all total bull.
“That cute clip was beautiful, can you make it downloadable?
I wanna save that video on my computer forever.”
I’m like, psh, sure, here’s a hyperlink. Whatever...
Four days later and I was simply distraught to hark 
My masterpiece marred with this fudgewit’s watermark
Get lost my sheesh’s “by BLONDEGiRL914”
The author’s Nib Oswald, not some mindfudgeed whore

I spent days on painstaking frame-by-frame screencaptures
Toiled for ages editing audio to visual matches 
Yet this petty net predator goes and steals my efforts
Getting the credit… I’ve never heard of a plan so pathetic
“A music video I made about Dakota Fanning.”
More like one you slapped a tag on after two minutes of scanning
“It’s supposed to be funny, I worked really hard on it.”
Oh yeah, it’s tough work clicking ‘copy’ and  ‘paste’… retarded bitch

I loaded a Dakota video on YouTube
When it got stolen by some totally stupid noob
A ruthlessly hopeless, clueless, boobless rube
Bet she’s a testtube baby from a urine sample, dude
“Hi, I’m BLONDEGiRL but you guys can call me Winona
Cuz I only ever steal stuff and then claim I’m the owner
Just a talentless loner. No aptitudes, to be brief
My only merits are abilities as an internet thief!”

Honestly, I don’t give two sheeshs about the bastard submission
If she’d simply given credit or just asked my permission
But this nasty bitch went behind my back and embezzled glory
“Oh crap, people have seen both, I’ll have to invent a story

In which we are two friends, that’s it, this guy is my mate
And I let him post my video up on his MySpace
Before I posted it up myself… that so makes sense
So when other YouTubers ask, that will be my defense.”

Nice try, Blondie, but you must have permableached your roots
To think each viewer of your vid wouldn’t reach the truth
Once they saw mine without a watermark put up earlier
Oops, I think I got you mad, your goldilocks just got curlier

I loaded a Dakota video on YouTube
When it got stolen by some totally stupid noob
A ruthlessly hopeless, clueless, boobless rube
Bet she’s a testtube baby from a urine sample, dude
“Hi, I’m BLONDEGiRL but you guys can call me Winona
Cuz I only ever steal stuff and then claim I’m the owner
Just a talentless loner. No aptitudes, to be brief
My only merits are abilities as an internet thief!”

And I’m not the only YouTube person irked at you, butthead
You’ve pilfered Olsen Twin works to stick up on your thread
So I now query why your oeuvre is just stealing material
The BLONDEGiRL mafia spreads through YouTube like a venereal

Deary, your lying and fibbing vexed Nib so he’s done this rap
To expose this ho’s woefully cunning underhanded crap
So slap a vote on her video, add it as favourite
It’s my flavour that you’re craving. “But it’s mine-” Bitch, just save it.

Unless you’ve put in the hard yards thieving clips from Hollywood
Don’t feel all jolly good stealing second-hand stolen goods
You give a bad name to YouTube, you internet succubus
Take the footage from original sources like the rest of us!

I loaded a Dakota video on YouTube
When it got stolen by some totally stupid noob
A ruthlessly hopeless, clueless, boobless rube
Bet she’s a testtube baby from a urine sample, dude
“Hi, I’m BLONDEGiRL but you guys can call me Winona
Cuz I only ever steal stuff and then claim I’m the owner
Just a talentless loner. No aptitudes, to be brief
My only merits are abilities as an internet thief!”

“Tee hee. I’m blonde.”

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/02/07 at 9:18 am

WARNING: Mature theme, content may offend

The Real Slim Ladies

http://www.theage.com.au/ffximage/2006/12/17/17n_model_wideweb__470x317,0.jpg

Listen to the downloadable MP3!

Ladies, have your digestion raised.
Ladies, quaff some nutrition, please.
Will you svelte, thin ladies expand out?
Why deplete?
Will you svelte, thin ladies expand out?
You're gobbling up nothing, here.

Y'all act like you've never been a wide person before.
All scrawny and gaunt like scrags, your bodies are thirsting for pork.
You starve at supper then fast early next morn.
You surely feel worn throwing-up from bulemia. (Blergh!)
Let's blame the media...
"Oh hey, no way, Ms Kidman,
She didn't just gain half a kilogram? PREGNANT!"
Your doctors they get... sustenance into yas!
"Chomp some cake, bread, creme chocolates and bacon!" (Eat up!)
Stick-insect women loathe M&Ms:
"Sugar sugar sugar! Them's fatty, so thickening. Sickening!
Packs on the pounds having way too much carbs, nibbling glucose foods."
Yeah, but you've no boobs, yo!

Man, you probably got a cupboard of spoons that never get used.
You float past when gusts flow along or an airy wind blows.
So refined, yet you're all just too weedy to wear belt loops... on pants.
Got a pool of handcream to keep your skin smooth.
Your bum aint got no hips! A rump is not equipped!
When lips are puckered, your cheeks start looking a little pinched.
You're anorexic, like a cadaver, a total wisp.
Really ectomorphic, yo, got a thinnin' uterus, kid!
World abhors you grotty hos and skinny whores, cuz
Magazines worship gaunt waifs.
A fat girl feels ugly, at a 'gross' weight.
You eat nothing, you models.
Well, some of you gobble up a carton of maple syrup, then chunder it. (Slurp!)
Yeah you love to shun all sustenance and nourishment,
And keep on squeezin' into pants every teenage fan wants to get. (Cool!)
But if you reel from a meal and don't encourage it,
Younger girls will follow suit, hunger strike and start to spew.

Lithe, trim, lanky,
Such wizened, frail ladies.
Looking all macerated, you're emaciating!
So won't you svelte, thin ladies expand out?
Expand out! Expand out!

You're lithe, trim, lanky,
Such wizened, frail ladies.
Looking all macerated, you're emaciating!
So won't you svelte, thin ladies expand out?
Expand out! Expand out!

Y'all live up to Kate Moss's trim abs and svelte figure?
Well lipo-ho-suction's for suckers, foo'!
You friggin' skeleton, no pounds of flab here.
Ass is asthenic, a teeny stomach, yeah. Skin 'n' bone mammaries.
Such trim, puckered-up skin. Body's nipped and sere!
My, your waistline and bust size are measured 'mere'.
You'd better listen dear, lest you disappear.
sheesh, these-teeny-scrags-are-meagre with their wretched rears!
Your tiny hips are flexing, arse has really got no girth.
A wiry model with a Gucci-made moleskin purse.
Skinny bitch! Get a damn ass, you empty freak!
Licking fruit doesn't fill you body with strength each week!
Make your pounds go past eighty up to ninety three,
And grow out full, girl, cuz you need M&M IVs! (Ha!)

I'm sick of you brittle girls in Vogue mags, driving 'round with your chrome mags,
Y'all should be sent through weight-gain programs.
You make a million dollars flubber-free,
With puckered cheeks,
Your nourishment is nuts and leaves!
Your butt's so lean.
Sucked, tucked and pluckered queen!
Your bod's size 3, with exposed ribs. God, you're tiny!

Lithe, trim, lanky,
Such wizened, frail ladies.
Looking all macerated, you're emaciating!
So won't you svelte, thin ladies expand out?
Expand out! Expand out!

You're lithe, trim, lanky,
Such wizened, frail ladies.
Looking all macerated, you're emaciating!
So won't you svelte, thin ladies expand out?
Expand out! Expand out!

You're like a twig wearing Lisa Ho, cuz you're really stringy, so thin.
Snort cocaine down in your Benz and dine on slimming food.
A zerophagous looking bloody gaunt, you're rangy and 8-feet tall,
Cuz meals aren't carbo-full or sugar-coated at all.
When diet number five is started?
Unless you are wide and larded...(Girl) why be bothered?
Flatter than grimy, discarded straw wrappers stamped on.
Don't you hunger? Chow health sticks, eat up no hampers? You're famished!

Too skinny! As you abstain from growing and get scurvy,
You'll have a bony waistline and just murder hamburgers.
Lunch on turkey breasts and gulp down tacos, scoff down furters.
Go beserk and fill your old scraggy cadaver with McGherkins.
And anything for slurpin' that gets thin ladies burpin'
Is good for burstin' them Gucci jeans, splittin' out of them size threes. (Rip!)
Cuz it'll start your gut gurglin', cram it high with healthy stuff.
Figure will arouse with a bigger butt.
And will you slim ladies expand out,
So that none of your organs or ribs stand out.
Get your poundage more rounded and wide,
Not pouty and small.
We want more brides proud of their can.
Models must grow!!!

Lithe, trim, lanky,
Such wizened, frail ladies.
Looking all macerated, you're emaciating!
So won't you svelte, thin ladies expand out?
Expand out! Expand out!

You're lithe, trim, lanky,
Such wizened, frail ladies.
Looking all macerated, you're emaciating!
So won't you svelte, thin ladies expand out?
Expand out! Expand out!

Models, guess there's a blimp waiting in all of yas.
Puckered? Just expand out!
Heck, I got a protein shake right here for ya...

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/04/07 at 3:43 am

WARNING: Strong coarse language

Song Has Been Deleted By The Artist

http://photo.ringo.com/188/188499116O052600626.jpg
Listen to the recording! (uncensored)

Your eardrums may have noticed
That there is a lack of sound
What was previously an opus
Has now fallen back to ground
You searched MySpace for hours
Til you found your favourite tune
But alas, your glee's turned sour
You've been left in silent ruin
For when friends visit your frontpage
They won't hear those dulcet tones
Not a single note, not one played
Just a silence, all alone

This song has been deleted
By the artist
This song has been deleted
Woah, no no no no
This song has been deleted
By the artist
This song has been deleted
Woah, yeah yeah

How terribly frustrating
That tune is sorely missed
How irri-f***ing-tating
F*** you're motherf***ing pissed
Why can't those c**ts on MySpace
Just leave their uploads there
For c**k crap tit fart dyke's sake
B**** ass t*** f** anal hair
Turd c**n d***
Scrotum slut
Bastard p****
Nipple butt

This song has been deleted
By the artist
This song has been deleted
Woah, no no no no
This song has been deleted
By the artist
This song has been deleted
Woah, yeah yeah



This song has been deleted
By the artist
This song has been deleted
Woah, no no no no
This song has been deleted
By the artist
This song has been deleted
Woah, yeah yeah

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/08/07 at 4:57 am

Drop It Like It's Fat
to the tune of 'Drop It Like It's Hot' by Snoop Dogg featuring Pharrell

http://pages.stern.nyu.edu/~rugby/imgs/iTeam/0035%20-%20Judd%20Nick%20(Fat%20Man).jpg

Listen to the downloadable MP3!

Suuuuuuuuet!
Suuuuuuuuet!

Cuz I'm plump in the hips, man:
Jog around the block.
Jog around the block.
Jog around the block.
Cuz I'm friggin' gargantuan:
Walk around the block.
Walk around the block.
Walk around the block.
And cuz I'm piggin' out on fatty food:
Trot around the block.
Trot around the block.
Trot around the block.
I got such roly-poly arms and I'm swollen, rotund.
Man, I'm solid, obese and my gut is growing broad.

I'm a wide dude. Wearing wide jeans.
Eating rice stew. Eating ice-creams.
Pudgy rolled flesh here. Million-XL coat.
Fat's wider from choc-filling down my throat.
I’m bantam? Posterior like six kegs.
Yo, my derriere plays two-a-side cribbage.
Shirkin' exercise, dude. Get an "E" in Phys. Ed.
Eat from the pan, man, that's how my body's thickset.

Jelly and the sweets, got a belly fifteen feet.
Eatin' meals that would fill up Godzilla in a week.
So don't try no running, jumps or speed walking. I'm a flabby kid.
Shy from athletics.
Hell, I'm bigger than the rest. I see food, snatch a bit.
Then I microwave it. Just a second *ding!*
Battered snacks, and a baked pork feed.
You think I give a stuff it makes my weight umpteen?

Cuz I'm plump in the hips, man:
Jog around the block.
Jog around the block.
Jog around the block.
Cuz I'm friggin' gargantuan:
Walk around the block.
Walk around the block.
Walk around the block.
And cuz I'm piggin' out on fatty food:
Trot around the block.
Trot around the block.
Trot around the block.
I got such roly-poly arms and I'm swollen, rotund.
Man, I'm solid, obese and my gut is growing broad.

A weight gainer. My butt's too fat.
Eat big hot dogs? Yeah, I love to do that.
I got a "wide load" sign here on my backside.
I love my chicken breast fried. Yeah, makes my hips wide.
Weight is rather great, I break the scales at 808.
I gorge so much, my last date was a blue whale.
Food, Mr Whippy, yum, chop-suey!
Stetson's, double the cheese, add a tub o' grease!

I’ll have steak wrapped in bacon and then milkshakes and
Seafoodspecial-fried-with-Cajun in a bowl gets eaten.
Cooked wings and then
swallow whole a roast swine.
By god, my old underwear's
tight here, must have hives!
The goat meat will sizzle, burning all the pickles.
I order seven prune puds and five pies tripled.
Sauces will get drizzled and trickle out in ripples.
Cheese on the pizza, with gravy on the gristle!

Cuz I'm plump in the hips, man:
Jog around the block.
Jog around the block.
Jog around the block.
Cuz I'm friggin' gargantuan:
Walk around the block.
Walk around the block.
Walk around the block.
And cuz I'm piggin' out on fatty food:
Trot around the block.
Trot around the block.
Trot around the block.
I got such roly-poly arms and I'm swollen, rotund.
Man, I'm solid, obese and my gut is growing broad.

I'm a fat boy. Pretty adipose.
Wide and gross lard, I tear all my clothes.
My weight's surplus. Don't do gym class.
Big food hog, one huge barge-arse.
Like a submarine, can't walk across a beam.
Cannot play ball sports: I'd make my own team.
Oh, you want to run 'round a bloody sports track?
Break these shorts I’m wearin, now can I stop yet?

Excess food, chow I can't refuse.
My calories flying, KFC abuse.
Can't eat fried goo? Tight belt, I'll miss you.
I'm on a diet, I gotta trim this tissue.
Gristle? Chickos? Dips? No more chips, dude.
Must pant, exercise and cut the boozing and crap food.
My wide, jigglin’ fat must vamoose.
Maybe my clothes will fin’lly feel a bit loose!

Cuz I'm plump in the hips, man:
Jog around the block.
Jog around the block.
Jog around the block.
Cuz I'm friggin' gargantuan:
Walk around the block.
Walk around the block.
Walk around the block.
And cuz I'm piggin' out on fatty food:
Trot around the block.
Trot around the block.
Trot around the block.
I got such roly-poly arms and I'm swollen, rotund.
Man, I'm solid, obese and my gut is growing broad.

Suuuuuuuuet!
Suuuuuuuuet!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/10/07 at 6:34 am

WARNING: Coarse language, content may offend

Nib Oswald Freestyle Disses

http://photo.ringo.com/183/183937419O026126624.jpg

Yo, I'm iller than cancer patients, more sick than a rancid Asian
Huffing SARS out of a paper bag whilst raping f**s with suppository abortifacients
So don't ever claim your lame a** can pull off more vile depravity
I'ma fill you in, like one of your rank yellow smile's cavities
I'm the king of toilet humour... your s*** got rejected by a lavatory
You're losing, fool, I'm Wicked like the musical... Defying 'Gravity'
Squeeze your a** back into your ma's uterus... deepthroat wanker
I'll be back in a minute with an unwound coathanger

Now my Mum's an Australian and my Dad's from Italy
But this little lady here's a Canadian... uh, LITERALLY
You're winning diddly squat like Ridley Scott every Oscar year
Link's motto must be "All for one!" like a fricking Musketeer
Because even with 'ThaMissinLink' as his cheesy name
We all know he's not the missin Link... of gay daisy chains
Hell, this fellow deep-throats dildos on his bed pillows, dressed in pink
Wearing Tinkerbell wings and lipstick, spongeing his kitchen sink
This b**** has glitter frissons... stop, listen and think
Call up Zelda and tell 'em I'm the reason for this missin Link

That was one f***ed drop... you know yo mum's a dumb sl**
Had her C-Section sideways, hence, you were born 'Unkkut'
Let's go X-rated like when you're dating your ex
Or mating with Mexican mental patients waiting for sex
Uncut? Wrong. You're cut up in a plastic baggy
Spastic f**gy blokes smokin' your a** like pyroclastic 'baccy
That s*** slaps you back in your corner with thumb in your pie
Though we all know you'd prefer to be thumbing a guy

You aint a gangsta, just a page-mauling gay minstrel
You call yourself Rage? You're just tense and premenstrual
So here's a free dental check... from my steel capped boots
It's time for you to be dyin' now like your real black roots

We'll miss Chris Vetrano, this is his funeral wake
He's gettin' lyrically p***ed upon like a urinal cake

Ooooh, some wordplay from NonCentz? I heard you're called 'pun gent'
Because your absurd way of speaking reeks like a bum's scent
This nerd's gayer than Thomson & Thompson in the one tent
No wonder your birthday saw your a**-licking tongue bent

Like droppin' BigBent Centz into a soda machine
That vocal discharge was Out Of Order... know what I mean?
MX's butt belongs below the border. "Hola, you queen!"
Yoda would cream you battlin'... "Omarsexual are your wet dreams."

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/11/07 at 8:07 am

WARNING: Crude humour, content may offend

The Best Video On The Internet EVER

http://www.medicom.de/share/articles/Computer-&-Internet-189.gif

Jessica Rose zooms down a ramp in a wheelchair and does a backflip over Chuck Norris and David Hasselhoff. She lands on a see-saw, which launches Siamese babies from the free-throw line of a basketball court into a perfect swish. Cut to the Numa Numa Guy, Andy Milonakis and two Asian guys lipsynching the Macarena in a dorm room. A penguin is slapped down whilst a boa constrictor gorges upon a bison.  The ORLY? owl suddenly pops up all over the screen singing the Badgerbadgerbadger song, before being chased away by the Peanut Butter Jelly Time banana. Steve Irwin travels through a Pacman maze gobbling up faces of The Iron Chef, to a techno remix of The Ketchup Song, before Brian Peppers fills up the screen and hollers “Do a barrel roll!!!” His face morphs into a Lego animation version of Hamlet performing his soliloquy, before crossfading into a timelapse of a thousand gerbils eating a gigantic cheese model replica of the Mona Lisa, before The Star Wars Kid stumbles into view battling the Crazy Frog. Cut to scientists in the 1950s dabbing an Albino kid with different illicit narcotics to see what kind of webs he will spin. A Flash-animated George W. Bush enters, beatboxing The Star Spangled Banner around Osama Bin Laden, whose face has been photoshopped onto Tubgirl’s body with a speech bubble "But that's where I poop from!" Subsequently, we see a six-and-a-half minute staccato montage of flashing, dashing, slashing, thrashing, clashing, bashing, gashing, mashing, lashing, gnashing, crashing, smashing anime fight sequences before a silent minute of Qian Zhijun eating noodles. An African tribesman flips a coin with his enormous lower lip. It lands on its edge,  before rolling across the top of a million dominoes and lodging itself inside Britney Spears as she gets out of a limousine without panties at the Opening Ceremony of the 2008 Olympics. Two kids in pyjamas open up Anna Nicole Smith’s coffin and scream “Yes! Yes! Yes!” for six-and-a-half minutes. This amuses a transhemispheric tourist, inciting him to dance a jig at every landmark on the globe. His jig is interrupted by Harry Potter riding Pikachu around, to the tune of the Captain Planet theme song. We cross to the oldest man in the world hooking a V8 motor up to his prosthetic leg and powering it into the nuts of Judson Laipply. Six-and-a-half minutes of Judson Laipply holding his nethers in pain, wincing like Peter Griffin on Family Guy, as an Evolution Of Yodelling plays in the background. A short black kid slowly walks out into the middle of the screen, shakes his head in shame and says: “Do you know what he did? He kicked him in the penis.”

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/14/07 at 11:41 pm

WARNING: Mild sexual references

Britney's Baby Loves To Dine
to the tune of 'Baby... One More Time' by Britney Spears

http://photo.ringo.com/191/191133259O327155605.jpg

Listen to the downloadable MP3! (It works now!)

So greedy, baby.
So greedy, baby.

So greedy, baby. You guzzle lactose… in loads.
Just suckle and imbibe there.
This greedy baby… bites udders of si…licoooone.
Knows how to gormandise, yeah.

Foamy. Mouth is loving full cream.
Swelling baby cuz he feeds and grows now.
Tired jaws.


“Mum's swollen breasts are filling me.
(Moustache!)
A busty chest, I will not wean.
(Til mum's drained!)
Yum high-fat tissue. Who'd use bovines?
Drink five til nine.”
Britney's baby loves to dine!


“Oh greedy baby,
My cleavage is feed…ing you.
Soyless, suckling lite milk.
This fatty baby’s  glutton for my buxom boobs.
You're lactose tol-er-ant, kid!”

Bloating. Rounded from teat smoothies.
Swills like crazy, guzzling as mum moans ‘Ow!'
Bites and gnaws.


“Mum's swollen breasts are filling me.
(Bubbly!)
A busty chest, I will not wean.
(Tits still teem!)
Why would I quit now, they're oozing fine.
Simply divine!”
Britney's baby loves to dine!

Oh greedy baby
Oh greedy baby


Oh greedy baby, you guzzle lactose in loads.
Oh greedy baby, my nipples down to my toes!


“I just request,
Acidopholous!
Why milk from a cow?
Areolas, swill this stream.
Just lose the brassiere,
Cuz it's feeding time.”
Britney's baby loves to dine!


“Mum's swollen breasts are filling me.
(Milk jugs!)
A busty chest, I will not wean.
(Til sixteen!)
Mammaries issued. These two are mine.
Elephantine!”
Britney's baby loves to dine!

Guys are obsessed,
With Brit's homely pecs.
Offspring now devours.
Both boobs flow pneumatic streams.
He chews. Perseveres,
To swig a milk Rhine.
Britney's baby loves to dine!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/16/07 at 10:07 am

WARNING: Mass payout themes

Nib Battleraps His 13-Year-Old Stepsister
featuring Alana

http://photo.ringo.com/191/191576781O894996691.jpg
Listen to the MP3!

You know, I thought it was about time that I stepped up to the plate
And took on one of the heavyweight names in battlerapping.
Jay-Z? Are you cray-zee?!
Kanye? He's beyond-gay!
And as for the Notorious B.I.G, he's... ... ...well, he's dead.
So here's my 13-year-old stepsister!

It's half past nine, but I decline revealing your name online
well its 26 past nine so learn how to read the time
Get off the microphone until you've learned how to rhyme
rhyme rhyme? y don't u try to get in time
Heck, I will get time... underage soliciting's a crime
i might as well sit bak and relax and drink some wine
cos ur sucky rappping is no where as good as mine!

Go back to primary school! I've been dropping these hits since year nine

ur the crime as u walked through that door
wen everyone sawu they fell 2 the floor

Hey, screw you you whore. Man, I've said it before...
Like a male pig, your rapping's one big boar!

that was really poor, screw u u whore,
it's not like you haven't seen one of them before

Dude, you know that prostitution is within the law,
And your sister was on call that night, for sure

Look, shouldn't you be playing with your teaset and dollies?

why where's yours u bring them ova every hollies
You know... you suck worse than Chupa Chup lollies
u don't mind tips on sucking when ur reading Dolly!
Jeez, this coming from a chick who's barely in a trainer bra
A white teenage girl rapper... do you know how insane you are?

yea i know ur way past the trainer bra
but dont get to proud not every guy goes that far


Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/20/07 at 8:34 pm

WARNING: Crude humour, coarse language

Cyanide And Happiness Rewrites

http://photo.ringo.com/192/192233448O001590628.jpg
http://photo.ringo.com/192/192233448O001590628.jpg

http://photo.ringo.com/191/191347524O591706416.jpg
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Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/20/07 at 10:28 pm

WARNING: Drug references, mild coarse language

Too Much Pot
by Nick Foran, additional lyrics by Nib Oswald

http://www.costumenetwork.com/albums/3/pothead.jpg

Ice cubes in strollers
Eskimos swimming down the street with cigars
Umbrellas falling on aeroplanes
Disco in the fifties
Mini golf
Man… *puff*… this stuff is pretty good

Horses flying on carrots
Coffee in the fridge with a tattoo
Lederhosen on a Sunday
Laurie Oakes in a hot tub with a one-dimensional squirrel
Dude, this sheesh is… *puff*… reeeeeally good!

At 1am my pizza humped my leg
At 2am the walls debated politics
At 3am my bedlamp smelt morose
At 4am Jesus told me to convert to Scientology in a game of charades

At 4am you looked like Sandra Sully
At 5am you looked like Elle MacPherson
At 6am you looked like Paris Hilton
And then all three of you started making out with each other.
Yeah… … … that was hot.

VCRs rewound to the middle
Cuticles that hurt when you pee on the lawn
Office stationery sculpture
Mum’s tax return is stuck to my shoe
Uh… I think this stuff is wearing off




…carpet.

Yep.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/22/07 at 2:11 am

WARNING: Drug references, coarse language

Drunken Binge
to the tune of 'London Bridge' by Fergie

http://www.gluttonsess.com/blog/fergie_pee_more_small2.jpg

Hear the downloadable MP3!

Drunk b****!
Drunk b****!
Drunk b****!
Drunk b****!

Walk unsteady like this. Oh!

Tipsy.  Turps it. Drunk here! Blotto!
Bundaberg in cups, lady! (C'mon!)

When she comes to the pub for a night
B&Bs? She’s got plenty to imbibe
See her pee while she is performing live
She slur her words when she chug them Long Islands

Going thirteen rounds, crimson nosed
Sazerac shots, B-54’s
She’s downing eighty bourbon cans into her throat
Cuz you know she will drink the stuff til she explodes!

Alcohol imbibed, keeps getting downed
A crunk and drunken binge
“Another twelve pints!”
Drunken drunken drunken
“A bath of Hahn Light!”
Chunky junkie chunder
Carpets the ground white

Alcohol imbibed, pours down her mouth
A pie-eyed Black Eyed Pea
Drinking her ass blind
Drunken drunken drunken
She’s skulling red wine
Clunk! Now slumped unconscious
Until she flat lines

The drinks start pouring
Fergie’s speech start slurring
“Quick, somebody hide the microphone!”
“Word!”

Some free booze? Watch as Fergie now spews
Where’s The Love? It’s splattering over your shoes
You know every night she’ll take a Vodka Cruise
Like a Nazi, all those shots of Jesus Jews

She will drink grappa by the case (Drunk b****!)
Any goon around will vanish without trace (Drunk b****!)
Her lips caked in Bloody Mary’s grace (Drunk b****!)
It’s on tap?
*glug glug glug*
"Ahhhhh."
It’s down her face!
“Woooo!”

Alcohol imbibed, keeps getting downed
A crunk and drunken binge
“Another twelve pints!”
Drunken drunken drunken
“A bath of Hahn Light!”
Chunky junkie chunder
Carpets the ground white

Alcohol imbibed, pours down her mouth
A pie-eyed Black Eyed Pea
Drinking her ass blind
Drunken drunken drunken
She’s skulling red wine
Chunky junkie chunder
Until she flat lines

Glug glug glug glug glug
Spew spew spew spew
She alcoholic kind, so pour that rum up high
Fergie has the blood type
Of vodka and lime

Glug glug glug glug glug
Spew spew spew spew
She alcoholic kind, so pour that rum up high
Fergie love her drunk times
And life support nights

"Hey, get your hands off me!
Don't escort me from the premises for disruptive behaviour, I'm Fergie Ferg!
What, you think I'm on my tampon or somethin'?!"

"Uh, from the looks of it... a urinal cake."


When she comes to the pub for a night
B&Bs? She’s got plenty to imbibe
See her pee while she is performing live
She slur her words when she chug them Long Islands

Going thirteen rounds, crimson nosed
Sazerac shots, B-54’s
She’s downing eighty bourbon cans into her throat
Cuz you know she will drink the stuff til she explodes!

Alcohol imbibed, keeps getting downed
A crunk and drunken binge
“Another twelve pints!”
Drunken drunken drunken
“A bath of Hahn Light!”
Chunky junkie chunder
Carpets the ground white

Alcohol imbibed, pours down her mouth
A pie-eyed Black Eyed Pea
Drinking her ass blind
Drunken drunken drunken
She’s skulling red wine
Chunky junkie chunder
Until she flat lines

Look at this girl
Soiled her britches!

Damn, girl, you shouldn't piss up your pay like that.
Pee brain!
Haha... Black Eyed Pee Stain.
Urine big trouble now, Fergie Ferg...

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 02/28/07 at 3:56 am

WARNING: Strong coarse language, mature themes

Bubble

http://photo.ringo.com/194/194499783O447262368.jpg
Image source

SCENE 1- Birth
Darkness.
A soft, steady heartbeat sounds, gradually increasing in volume and fervor.
A strong light shines from behind a white plastic bag, silhouetting a writhing figure within. Limbs push outwards in all directions as the figure struggles to escape the bag, stretching the plastic so that feet, hands and fingers become visible, before the figure finally tears through the plastic and emerges.
Blackout.
An audible, rasping inhale.
Silence.


SCENE 2- The Patient
A soft, repetitive ebb of a respirator. Lights come up, dimly illuminating the set.
Ash is asleep on his mattress inside a plastic chamber on Stage Left, clutching a ragged doll. Enter Doctor from Stage Right, carrying a clipboard, followed by Nurse.
They talk in whispers.


DOCTOR: Here he is, then. If you wondering about his condition, this patient suffers from a rare immunodeficiency disorder which renders him unable to survive without quarantine. His immune system simply cannot fight infection.

Nurse pauses to take in the plastic chamber.

NURSE: Astonishing. Is there no cure available?

Doctor begins taking notes from a chart on the wall.

DOCTOR: We attempted a bone marrow transplant on the patient as a young child, but unfortunately his body rejected the donor cells. Violently.  His condition was exacerbated, triggering severe respiratory complications. It’s too much of a risk to attempt another operation, let alone the chances of finding a donor match. His only means of survival is to remain within this plastic chamber.

Doctor moves on to analysing metallic tanks positioned around the chamber.

DOCTOR:  As you can see, these tanks continually circulate air throughout the chamber to keep out potentially harmful pathogens. All items of food, clothing or medication must be sterilised before being introduced into his environment through this small flap here. Gloves and protective gear must be worn when giving anything to the patient, or when removing his bedpan.

Pause.

He is not to be touched.

Pause. Doctor continues on as usual.

Breakfast will need to be prepared for 9am, lunch at 1pm at dinner at 6pm. He will need to be medicated every two hours from 6am until midnight.

NURSE: Yes, I was briefed on everything earlier this evening.

DOCTOR: Very good. You will be rostered on alongside the other two nurses and myself, until Dr Graham has returned from leave.

NURSE: Great. I’m… I mean, this is the first real job I’ve got at the hospital.

DOCTOR: Oh, it’s all fairly rudimentary procedure in this part of the wing. Sometimes it just tends to become wearisome after a while.

Nurse squints through the chamber at Ash sleeping.

NURSE: Is he holding a doll?

DOCTOR: Ah. I believe it was a gift from his younger sister the day before he was first moved to this ward. Shortly afterwards, his family moved states to get away from the media. You can imagine…

NURSE: Hmm… Do they visit often?

DOCTOR: They did.

Silence for a moment.

DOCTOR: Well, that should be everything. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d best be
heading home for the night. Any further questions about the patient before I go?

NURSE: Oh, um… his…  what’s his name?

Doctor glances down at his clipboard.

DOCTOR: Ash.

Doctor turns and leaves. Nurse stands alone looking at Ash before turning and exiting.
Lights down.


SCENE 3: Darkness
Ash is seated on his bed, looking pensively offstage out of an imaginary window. Sitting on the floor is Ivory, his doll. Just inside the plastic wall is a tray bearing two pills and a glass of water. Lights gradually rise over the duration of the scene.

IVORY: It’s time to take your medication, Ash.

Ash does not reply. He continues to stare out the window.

IVORY: She’s already put it out for you, Ash. On a tray and everything. Your pills and a fresh glass of water.

Pause.

She’s new, you know. The Nurse. She looked pretty. You should be nice to her.

Pause.

Take your medication, Ash.

ASH: (Quietly) Look at that…

IVORY: What?

ASH: The sunrise. On the horizon. Look at the way that sliver of gold appears like a giant eyelid of a dragon opening. You can feel it. You can feel the warm coming through the dark. You can feel it on your face. (Ash closes his eyes and inhales.) Can you feel it?

IVORY: I can feel it.

ASH: Ivory?

IVORY: Yes?

ASH: Ivory, what makes the dark?

IVORY: What makes what dark?

ASH: Well, the sun makes the light shine through dark during the day, so we can see everything. But what’s… at night, you know... what makes… the dark?

IVORY: Nothing makes the dark.

ASH: Nothing? That’s stupid.

IVORY: Darkness is nothing. It’s not a… thing… it’s just… the absence of anything. Nothing. Light fills up the nothing when it’s there, and when it isn’t, then everything goes back to nothing. Back to dark.

ASH: Well, how come the moonlight doesn’t make all the darkness go away at night?

IVORY: Because the moon can’t make light on its own. The moon just reflects leftover sunlight. But it also reflects dark, too, because it only ever gets tiny amounts of sunlight. It’s like… an eye with a cataract. Caught up there between darkness and light. Never truly cold or black, but never warm or full of light either.

Pause.

ASH: I miss them.

IVORY: They’ll visit soon, Ash.

ASH: They might never visit again.

Silence. Ivory looks back to the tray on the floor.

IVORY: It’s time to take your medication.

Lights fade.

SCENE 4- Montage
Lights up. Ivory is gone and the toy doll sits on Ash’s pillow. Ash is on the floor, surrounded by jigsaw puzzle pieces. He toys with them, bored, before lifting up two handfuls and pressing them to his face, allowing the pieces to trickle out from between his fingers. He sits in silence, staring numbly at the pieces before him. Lights down.

Lights up. Nurse is standing outside the plastic chamber wearing a mask, apron and gloves, as Ash finishes a glass of water. He places the empty glass on a tray on the floor.


NURSE: Good boy. I’ll be back with lunch in an hour. Read your new book, Ash, it’s a really good one. It’s set in outer space. You should like it.

Nurse retrieves the tray from the doggy flap on the floor and exits. Ash waits until she is gone and then goes over to one of the many board game boxes in his room, lifts the lid of the box and spits out two pills before replacing the lid. Lights down.

Lights up. Ash is masturbating in bed. Nurse enters briskly with a small pile of papers.


NURSE: Here, Ash, I just got given these new school lessons from your-

She trails off as her eyes meet Ash’s. Nurse falters for a moment, then quickly turns and exits. Ash remains frozen for some time, before punching his pillow. He grabs the doll and throws it angrily at the plastic wall.

ASH: F***!

He drops to his knees at the side of his mattress, glaring at the floor for a moment, before suddenly punching his mattress repeatedly.

ASH: F***! F***ing f*** f*** f*** f***! F***! F*** f*** f*** f*** f***!

His actions get more wild and desperate as his weak respiration fails to fuel his rage.

ASH: F*** you! F*** you! F*** you!

Ash picks up the doll and hurls it at the wall again, before pummeling the plastic with furious effort over and over and over again, until he is too weak to continue. He collapses to the floor, wheezing asthmatically. One trembling hand grabs the doll beside him and he clumsily slams its head onto the ground, crushing it beneath his weight as he leans over with rasping breaths.

ASH: F*** you.

Hot tears fill his eyes as his breathing gets heavier and more strained.

ASH: F*** you.

Ash is clearly disoriented and struggling to remain conscious. He blinks repeatedly, looking about him as if momentarily blind before passing out. His rasping continues to sound as the lights fade.

Lights up. Ivory is now lying on the floor where the doll had been positioned. Ash is seated on the edge of his bed with eyes closed, taking deeply measured breaths. After some time, his eyes open and he glances down at Ivory. Silence. Lights down.

Lights up. Ash is finishing another glass of water. He places it on the tray and Nurse removes it via the flap in the plastic before silently exiting. Ash goes over to the same board game box as before and spits out his two pills. He then carries the box down onto the floor where he sits and removes the lid. We see the box is filled with hundreds of pills. Ash grabs two handfuls of pills and holds them above his face, letting them rain down over his skin. Lights down.


SCENE 5: Old Man
Lights up. Ivory is on one side of the plastic chamber, staring terrified at Old Man at the other side of the plastic wall. Ash wakes up groggily.

ASH: Ivory?

Ivory trembles in silent fear.

IVORY: Who is he, Ash?

ASH: Who? What?

IVORY: He came in the night, Ash. He came while you were sleeping.

ASH: Who did? Who are you talking about?

Ash turns and sees Old Man. Old Man rasps an indecipherable wheeze.

IVORY: What did he say?

Ash talks as if sleepwalking. Matter-of-factly, yet in a dreamlike state.

ASH: He said… he said that it’s time.

IVORY: What? Time? Time for what?

Old Man wheezes again.

ASH: He said it’s time to go.

Ash stands up.

IVORY: You’re scaring me, Ash. What are you doing?

ASH: It’s time to go.

Old Man wheezes again.

ASH: They keep me locked in here, Ivory. A lifetime sentence for a crime I never committed. They drown me in their sterile air. They choke me with their pills. They suffocate me with their plastic.

Ash takes a step towards the plastic wall, away from Ivory. Ivory begins to weeps timidly.

IVORY: Ash?

Old Man wheezes again.

ASH: They left me here, Ivory. They left me here to die. I can’t breathe in here, Ivory. I’m suffocating. I need to breathe. It’s time. It’s a lunar eclipse, Ivory. That one moment when the moon is swallowed by the dark.

Ash has been dreamily wandering towards the plastic wall. He stops and extends his fingertips to gently caress the plastic.

ASH: I need to be touched. I need to feel. I need.

Old Man wheezes again. As if submitting to an unseen force, Ash kneels and begins to push through the plastic flap. Ivory suddenly comes to life.

IVORY: No!

Ivory runs over from the opposite side of the room just as Ash pushes through to the outside of the plastic chamber. She ends up on her knees at the interior of the wall, hands planted firmly on the plastic.
Ash stand up defiantly and inhales.
Silence. Ivory chokes on a sob of surprise.
After a moment, Ash turns and realises that Old Man is no longer wheezing.
Ash is suddenly seized in a violent seizure of hyperventilation. His breathing becomes rapid and violent, as if each intake draws a razor further and further down his throat.
He drops to his knees, searching about frantically for some sense of rescue and can only find Ivory staring helplessly through the plastic.
Ash places his hands opposite hers and looks into her eyes. Ivory continues to choke on sobs as Ash’s breathing dies out into feeble whimpers.
Light fades.
The feeble whimpers grow quieter and further apart until a final silence in darkness.


NURSE: Ash? Are you awake? There's someone here to see you.

END

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/05/07 at 2:28 am

WARNING: Sexual references, coarse language, content may offend

Gettin' Back (The Misandry Song)
to the tune of 'Sexyback' by Justin Timberlake

http://www.magentastudios.com/thumbs/245.3816.jpg

I swing my teste sack
You’ll see these balls every time I’m dacked
The skin and vessels wave down by my crack
So girl, get down and smile, lift up your neck
Take it like a b****!

Girl, I shaved
Oh, these testicles dangle here like grapes
So why not slip me a few kisses, babe
And suck my gonads til you feel a spray
Take ‘em in your jaw, b****!

Cum here girl
Give head, use tongue with it
Cum on your rack
Give head, use tongue with it
BJ me
Give head, use tongue with it
Drink’s on me
Give head, use tongue with it

Look at me while you’re jerking it
Give head, have fun with it
Look at those lips
Give head, have fun with it
You make me swell
Give head, have fun with it
Give head, girl
Give head, have fun with it

You’d…
Better lick it all
Give head, make porn with it
Better lick it all
Give head, don’t yawn on it
Better lick it all
Give head, make porn with it
Better lick it all
Give head, don’t yawn on it
X2

Better lick it all

You want a teste snack?
Just blow and suck it like a blower vac
You’re wet and naked, ready to attack
...why’s that gerbil popped right up into my a**?

Take it like a b****!

Girl, that aches
You see these shackles, they just really chafe
You start to whip me with some rusted chains
I’ll reconsider sex on the first date

Take it like a whore, b****!

Come now, girl
D***head, warranted it
Cut me some slack
D***head, you wanted it
Ceasefire, please?
D***head, warranted it
Think I’m beat
D***head, you wanted it

Let me see how you like it, pr***
We’ve had enough of it
Taking your s***
We’ve had enough of it
You make me hurl
We’ve had enough of it
Go to hell
We’ve had enough of it

You…
Idiots abound
You’re so chauvinistic
Idiots abound
You’re so damn simplistic
Idiots abound
You’re mysoginistic
Idiots abound
You’re so damn sadistic
X2

Idiots abound

You ready?
Stop sweating!
Hold steady!

This time we’re getting back
Here’s your come-uppance, crotch-led guys are wack
You think of girls as just a** to jack
Well, I’ll turn the tables here and plug your crack
Strap-ons are enormous!


Come now, girl
D***head, warranted it
Cut me some slack
D***head, you wanted it
Ceasefire, please?
D***head, warranted it
Think I’m beat
D***head, you wanted it

Let me see how you like it, prick
We’ve had enough of it
Taking your s***
We’ve had enough of it
You make me hurl
We’ve had enough of it
Go to hell
We’ve had enough of it

Now…
Stick your rectum out
I’ll fit this corn up it
Stick your rectum out
I’ll fit French horns up it
Stick your rectum out
I’ll fit my arm up it
Stick your rectum out
Come on, have fun with it
x2

Treat me better, c***.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/05/07 at 2:39 am

WARNING: Crude humour, mature themes, coarse language, sexual references, drug references

The Farce Side (HITS 200 TOONS)

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Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/05/07 at 9:35 pm

WARNING: Mature theme

White Picket Fences

http://photo.ringo.com/195/195822510O152417991.jpg

A child's eyes blinded by a glaring light
The searing fire of desire to have parents twined
Lying through terror and fights staring into the night
Aspiring to merry times of man marrying wife
Naïve eyes ensnared in belonging, despair beguiled
By the brightness blaring from happy fairytale rhymes
In the televised whitewash of American lives
Eyes vicariously fly high through the paradise skies
Wherever family ties are shared, strong and alive
Gliding along through the air, carefree and wild
Carried on the wings of a prayer, an angel song
So young, benign and ripe with hope... so wrong
For the hunger and yearning and longing keeps churning
Lungs slowly burning, stung by the learning
Eyes discern kind denial, the firelight adjourns
And a squirming black tongue of vile night returns

Eyes blink, now the brittle globes are blown and broken
Decrepit white picket fences alone and choked in
A grotesque and sickening thickly misted smoke floating
Over splintered play equipment and bricks littering loam
Croaking crows sit on spokes of wistful winter oaks
Liquor bottles slowly trickle a slick moat of foam
Houses gaunt with jaundice, bones of timber cloaked in stone
Haunted by the somber ghosts of a broken home

Fickle oaths of betrothal scripted by vicars are withering
Slowly shrivel and corrode from wicked contradiction
Children stick to roads split open by their filial friction
Atoned to the fact that no-one walks alone in confliction
No beautiful social utopia mirrors this vision 
As a sickle slits apart a stricken undergrowth thicket
And poking out is a single wick, exposed and aquiver
Anticipating someone picking it to stow it and give it
The little spark of hope to grow and glow and so live again
Fuel the cruelty of optimism from a blistered skin
But it flitters and blows away like a ghostly wisp of wind
Disappears into the whispers of original sin
And now the night is once more inert, greyscale and blurred
As the hoards of orphaned urchins tread the pavement in herds
Skies of anguish wailing hail and rain on sanguine numb dirt 
Muted eyes deaf to strangled cries of an angel songbird

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/07/07 at 10:05 am

WARNING: Drug theme, mild coarse language

Smoking
to the tune of 'What Is This Feeling?' from Wicked: The Musical

http://sprott.physics.wisc.edu/pickover/pc/cigarette2.jpg

Listen to the downloadable MP3!

GALYMPHOMA:
I rest here in the glummest of hospitals. 

EMPHYSEMA:
With throat cancer.

*music starts*
BOTH:
I had the illusion
That smoking was the ish.


EMPHYSEMA:
But of course, I learned a lesson.

GALYMPHOMA:
Now I'm hoarse and tired of huffin'.

BOTH:
For I smoked a pack a day to look s*** hot.

Now I need a blood transfusion.
And this voice-box is a bitch!


GALYMPHOMA:
At-least-I'm-still-exceedingly-popular-in-cowboy-leather
With-hotties-all-by-my-siiide...


EMPHYSEMA:
...not.

*Iron-lung instrumental*

GALYMPHOMA:
My tongue is peeling,
It's bloody and blue.


EMPHYSEMA:
I spit black foam up,
It tastes just like spew.


GALYMPHOMA:
My mouth is yucky.

EMPHYSEMA:
My teeth are greening.

GALYMPHOMA:
They taste disgusting.

BOTH:
My gums are bleeding!
Pharynx is decayin'.
Smoked like a gas main.

YECCCCHHH!!!

Smoking!
Bloody hell I hate it, smoking!


GALYMPHOMA:
What disgrace!

EMPHYSEMA:
It's gross!

GALYMPHOMA:
I'm choking!

BOTH:
Twelve a day? Let's smoke some more!

Every single day I draw and draw
My eyes start to itch, my throat gets sore
From stinkin' rotten smoking.

Such a dangerous inhalation!
Causing throat disintegration!
Immature and wrong!

Oh, I'll try to quit... then raid through trash,
Searching for a butt to lick the ash!
All because of smoking tobacco,
I've spoiled... my... lungs!


TOBACCO COMPANIES:
Our cylinders of tar taste so good!
You can't get cancer lighting sticks of soot!
That's an error. Utter garbage! We don't mean to sound all pious,
But our products won't cause carnage!


GALYMPHOMA:
You...wea...sels...are...stin...king...li...ars!

TOBACCO COMPANIES:
Though a million users have died.
It's something execs must have denied.
We just want to sell our menthol lites worldwide!

So we're all...


BOTH:
Smoking!

(Gutteral speaking, my blood strains to flow!)
Tar gets caked on haemoglobins!
(You smell this odour? They give me BO!)
Throat now smoulders. Great, I'm croaking!
(My pulse starts rushing, my head starts reeling!)
Man, it tastes like gross manure!
(Oh, I know this feeling! Buzz from nicotine!)

Movie scripts get payed,
Making smokes look fresh?
Damned haute couture!


TOBACCO COMPANIES:
Yeeesss!

BOTH:
Noooooo!

Smoking!


ALL:
Fingers stained, so they look Asian!
Artificial respiration?
My poor old lungs!

Oh, I tried to quit... but wait, alas!
Now I am addicted to the patch!
How silly!


Smoking! (Smoking's awful? Never!)
Smoking! (Smoking!)
It aint cheap, see! (Smoking!)
Coughing goo! (So?)

Wide holes in lungs!

Smoking!
Need to stay away from smoking!


*proffers a carton of cigarettes*
EMPHYSEMA:
Smoke?

GALYMPHOMA:
AARGH!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 03/09/07 at 5:33 am

WARNING: Coarse language, crude humour

Bored Rap Freestyle

http://photo.ringo.com/151/151533359O477444725.jpg

Ayo, I think this Nib is rap's new pimp whizkid
Mr Twisted here, I drink chimp p*** limp-wristed
White like Blink, Linkin Park and Limp Bizkit
Whisked around like brisket in shrimp bisque, s***

This is a stick up, b****es, fricking git up
Pick up the pace, Dick-in your face... like the Smith shop
Lick up this spit, man I'm sticking my d*** up
Inside your chick so far... her queefs are becoming her hiccups
Drips drop when I'm flipping this script up
Cuz most hiphop flipflops with fake s*** like a trickshop
Clipclopping along, twit, you're getting tripped up
By Nib scribbling wicked lyrical ridicule- b**** what?!

Up in your sphincter, males, I'll wear hot pink and nail you
So fricking hard this s*** tips the Richter Scale
And rips your a** elastics a new cut slit
My spastic slapstick antics leaving fat guts split
Plus when a matchstick up in your gastric gas gets lit
At least one of your orifices will be spitting hot s***
Ha- watch it, I'm just sputtering out these crotchets
Every utterance muttered throttles you like garottes, b****

I'm the dude doodling toons at your mum's funeral wake
Consuming the cake, then boozin' down a schooner or eight
I'll 69 the beautiful corpse til those numerals shake
Puking a wave of putrid fluid while I'm screwing her face 
My humour is like a boob tumour, an immovable ache
A movie of my birth comes first up if you Google 'mistake'
You're booing my japes? View them as 'irrefutably gay'?
You f***ing flakes suck more c*** fluid than a urinal cake!

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/04/07 at 4:50 am

WARNING: Crude humour, coarse language

Musings

http://www.castiastone.com/chiseled-stone/images/CS-random-3.jpg
Listen to the downloadable recording!

They say that a cat always lands on its feet. And toast always lands on its buttered side. So I decided to tape a slice of buttered toast on the back of my cat and throw it out the window to see what happened. Unfortunately my cat wouldn't hold still for me to tape the toast on. It was about this time I began thinking that it's probably every animal's instinct to land on their feet if they're falling. And that toast thing probably came about because there's only enough time for it to rotate 180 degrees when knocked off the height of a kitchen bench or table. So I gave up on my cat and ate the piece of toast.

I love my family alot. That's why I have sex with them so often.

I bought a packet of water crackers the other day. I went to open the box but it said 'Open other end.' So I turned the box around and guess what it had written on the other end? 'Open here.' I thought 'that makes sense' and opened the box. But then I realised that eating water crackers was against my religion and I was standing on an iceberg naked being raped polar bear.

I've always wanted children, but I hear society frowns on that sort of thing nowadays.

Sometimes I wonder what sort of film snakes would make. It'd be pretty difficult for them, seeing as they don't have hands to operate any of the cameras or editing equipment. And the actors would probably just slither around eating each other. I guess that's why humans make films instead. They don't eat each other and they have hands.

I've heard that if you pour green food colouring into a fish tank, your goldfish will start to turn green.
And yet icecream is made up of about 80% frozen air.
That's justice for you.

I was playing snooker with Michael Jackson the other day when... ...actually, I wasn't.

If everyone in the world yelled 'Hello?' at the same time, do you think God would hear it? ...
Well, I guess not everyone speaks English. ...
And some people can't even talk at all. ...
And it would be difficult to arrange for everyone in the world to be awake at the same time. ...
And I guess it would be a nuisance for surgeons and the like to have to interrupt their work. ...and it would be nearly impossible for six and a half billion people to yell 'Hello?' in perfect unison. Man, what a stupid idea.
Let's go to the supermarket.

Is it possible for a priest, an Irishman and a hooker to walk into a pub without anything funny happening?
Yes.
Yes it is.

I like kids with Down Syndrome. They're like dolphins... they all go around with an adorable grin and a cheerful demeanour. I think all of our problems would be solved if we just rounded up all kids in the world with Down Syndrome and made them dance.
With dolphins.

Have you ever looked up at a perfectly clear sky at night, when all you could hear was a soft rustling as the breeze caressed your face...
And felt like you were slowly falling through a timeless, infinite void of nothingness?
I haven't. I like to play Tetris.

You know how the black box survives a plane crash? Well, why don't they make the whole plane out of the material they use for the black box? ...I guess there are a number of reasons. Cost would be one of them. Aerodynamics could be another, seeing they'd have to compensate for the weight difference. And I guess it's the safety principle of cars being designed to crumple on impact. The whole idea of using the material they do is that it lessens the damage done to humans by the plane taking most of the impact. If the plane was made out of black box material, the crash would shake up all of the passengers like eggs in a tin can. So I guess that's why they don't make planes out of the black box material.
That, and the fact that the government is run by Martian zombies.

What's the deal with aeroplane food? How hard can it be to feed hundreds of passengers, with limited space for resources, a high-quality meal every few hours?
Jesus.
Jesus f***ing Christ.

I was walking out in the country one day when I saw this five-year-old girl leading a bull through a paddock by a rope. I leaned over the fence and asked her what she was doing. She replied that she was taking the bull to mate with the cows. I asked her: "Can't your daddy do that?" She said: "Yes, but then the calves come out all deformed." Then she went on to explain how they have to insert various steel implements into the cow's vagina to bash in the skull of the deformed foetus before slicing it up and dragging the pieces out of the uterus one by one. Then she seized the bull's throat with her teeth and throttled it to death before tearing strips of raw flesh out of its stomach. Then she stuck her head in a rabbit trap. I stood there for a moment, somewhat dumbstruck, then thought: "Why put the rest of that meat to waste?" So I carried her carcass home and stored her in my freezer.

What do you get if you cross a bikie gang with an octopus?
I guess that depends on your definition of 'cross'. Or 'what' or 'get' or any of the other words, for that matter.
Now, where's my handkerchief?
I could really do with a handkerfchief.
Right about now.

I find it truly mind boggling how, despite their infinite cuteness, every now and then I get the urge to kick the f*** out of babies.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/06/07 at 1:03 am

WARNING: Mature theme, coarse language

War Lab Weapon Cyphers

http://www.eagleslandingmall.com/guns_knives/pic/pic1.jpg

PAINKILLERS
You lame fellas are about to deal with the illest insane drilling
Cuz my brain's filled with deranged medulla cells, bane spilling
With angry raging cankers and chancrous angst welling
And swelling within before spraying in ways that maim civilians
First off I'll feed you pain killers out of mercy and courtesy
As my thirst for squirting veins may cause personal hurt to ye
Now I'll murder you chumps in a state of comatose numbness
And see which of you bitches' unstitched hearts can pump for the longest

BRANDED TO DEATH
Hoo-rah, Jarhead, bringing black liquid to the boil
I'm dipping a frickin' Mickey-D symbol into hot oil
Drop your daks and cop the flak like you're in live combat
This is one sausage sizzle fo' shizzle... want fries with that?
Bitch, stand up straight as I emasculate you here one-handed
In my right's a Starbucks logo warming up to get branded
Up your ass so long you'll feel like you're a captive panda
You'll be peppered in symbols like Nazi propaganda
Microsoft, Pepsi, Nike, Reebok, Geico and iMac too
You're gettin' covered in these fudgeers like a tribal tattoo
Until you can't stand it no longer, blisters choking your breath
Like Coca Cola, you'll be smoking cuz you're branded to death

BELT
I love to slay a playerhater til he's laying in welts
Smelt nails through his hands to a metal conveyor belt
And send this sucker's whining ass through a production line
With cogs a-grinding up his body into fudgeing twine

BLACK MAGIC
Within the skin of my fingertips
Lingers a synergy of ninja energy that rips your flesh like malignant whips
Stripping your ligaments to fragments of thick crimson drips
Red pigments dribbling in rivers from your splintered ribs
One twisted figment of thought... your life turns drastic
A thunder crack, you'll get attacked by pyroclastics
My black magic hacking, crackling, cracking thoracics and
Smacking you back into the sack of your mother's gastrics

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/07/07 at 2:43 am

Dramac Pantomime Rap
performed with The Moroccan Rollers for 'Takeshi And The Not So Special Princess'

Listen to the recording here!

http://www.wayfarers-pantomime.co.uk/IMG_0876.jpg

Yo, listen up Princess Esmervelda
You send my heart racing helter skelter
I’m the… savvy star known as Caviar
Marry me, we’ll be together for evermore

Dear princess Esmervelda, if it’s pearls you want, I’ve got ‘em
My wallet is so full that I’ve got diamonds up the bottom
My palace is encrusted in all kinds of precious jewels
I own five hundred camels and a dozen swimming pools
Each day I fill my bathtub with fine honey, wine and milk
My bedroom’s carved from marble and my carpet’s made of silk
My servants make the meals, wash the sheets and sweep the floors
So marry me, my princess and my riches can be yours

Oh princess Esmervelda, I’m linguistically endowed
My academic brilliance means to you’ll I’ll be avowed
My brain is filled with knowledge from all corners of the globe
I have a hundred honours on my graduation robe
I’m trained in several instruments and speak twelve languages
If my mind cannot solve a complex task, it anguishes
I may not have large muscles like those muscle-headed twerps
But I will serenade you in Elizabethan verse

My princess Esmervelda, I’m your messenger of love
I’ll pepper you with kisses on your lips, my precious dove
My fingers will caress your tender skin and stroke your hair
We’ll look into each other’s eyes and breathe each other’s air
Come swim within my ocean of bed linen in the sky
A cloud of sheets and pillows is the place where we can lie
So marry me, dear princess, for my love will blow your mind
And we can spend the rest of our lives together… entwined

Yo yo yo.

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 04/18/07 at 8:44 am

WARNING: Sexual references, crude humour, content may offend

Vagina Juice
Listen to the recording here! (uncensored)

http://photo.ringo.com/205/205334649O516939659.jpg

Uh... Steph Bendixsen
The sexy vixen
Bitch ass trick, get to mixin’
And flick that head back until deafness kicks in

Ayo, we get inside ya like spinal taps
And make this record spin til the vinyl snaps
Uh... off the map, you can’t find no finer raps
With this chick clapping them vaginal flaps *clap clap*
Tighten up, we be ridin’ back
To the Lighthouse, too fly for that NIDA crap
Suicide Girl provides the vital sap
Of vagina juice oozing from inside her lap

(Whooo!)

Bitch, smack this wack ish backwards
We go Che Che Kule on your sassy asses
Steph’s stretch array during cast theatrics
Acts as foreplay after on her battered mattress
Uh… we’re a box of matches
We fire up the night like a spark that catches
So rock your motherfudgeing cocks and vadges
And scratch it up til your itching crotch detaches


Go girl, let your mind run loose
Go girl, wag that fine caboose
Put that tight little behind to use
And shake it like a bottle of vagina juice
(repeat)

Oh, I get down like a feather pillow
A silver grill blingin’ up my breath for real, yo
Slangin’ rhymes, spilling out this clever ill flow
Like wanking on my rags with a leather dildo
I’m a bitchass skankynigga trickslagho
I get more Nib than playing Tic Tac Toe
My lips smack, opening for dick-gagged throat
I’ll be goin’ at it til my granny tits sag, yo

But even then I’ll keep on acting like a dumb slut
Lady lump-lumps at the clinic getting pumped up
Stomach sucked, bum big and wide like a dump truck
Idiotic video gimmick getting two thumbs up
I do THIS with my fists by my boobies
And shake THAT like a raspberry smoothie
Now dance lewd like a rap singer’s groupie
Get slapped on the glutes like a black stupid floozy


Go girl, let your mind run loose
Go girl, wag that fine caboose
Put that tight little behind to use
And shake it like a bottle of vagina juice
(repeat)

Though so
Damn white
We go
All night

Sing that
So sweet
Bring that
Phat beat
(repeat, becoming progressively more and more harmonised)

Go girl, let your mind run loose
Go girl, wag that fine caboose
Put that tight little behind to use
And shake it like a bottle of vagina juice
(repeat to fade)

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/13/07 at 7:36 pm

WARNING: Sexual references

Eunuch

http://www.vrazvedka.ru/main/learning/ruk-b/im-styers/112.jpg

Most newborns in filial wards get
Their long umbilical cord cut
But my folks continued chopping
Til quite soon I found them lopping
Bits below that hung there, flopping
Cropped my genitals clear off

You may take manhood for granted
When your bits aint been transplanted
Those guys who have lumpy jocks
Should appreciate their cocks
For I saturate my socks
Walking up to use a trough

My pubic limb is just a puny pruned twig
No balls at all, I also have no cue stick
I lack more Siemens than a bankrupt Munich
For I’m a cute and neutered Punic eunuch
My crooning’s viewed as shrill, amusing music
Just like a Looney Toon helium balloon skit
I could use a new dick. Quick, use this glue stick
For I’m a cute and neutered Punic eunuch

Oh, there isn’t much bravado
When you’ve lived as a castrato
I’m so terribly infertile
That within my pelvic girdle
It’s like the head of a turtle
Curled up deep within its shell

I would feel more fresh and zesty
Had I even just one teste
But where my inguinals join
Lies an empty, lonely groin
For my doctor razed my loins
Purloined every manly cell

Stimulation’s quite sedated
For a man who’s been castrated
No nuts in my scrotum’s hole
No lift for my totem pole
Indeed, my manhood’s so small
Ken dolls find they’re more endowed

Still, my life’s free from temptation
Birthed from sexual frustration
For, because I’ve got no nads
I will not be driven mad
Like those other foolish lads
New Dads who have no life now

My pubic limb is just a puny pruned twig
No balls at all, I also have no cue stick
I lack more Siemens than a bankrupt Munich
For I’m a cute and neutered Punic eunuch
My crooning’s viewed as shrill, amusing music
Just like a Looney Toon helium balloon skit
I could use a new dick. Quick, use this glue stick
For I’m a cute and neutered Punic eunuch

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/15/07 at 2:36 am

Shorty Is A Midget
to the tune of 'Shorty Is A Dancer' by DZK

http://newsimg.bbc.co.uk/media/images/41340000/jpg/_41340865_tennant_203.jpg

Listen to the downloadable recording

Very undersized little body
Yeah, her height would rival Barbie's
She's tiny, understacked
The smallest fry, with a 'stuntman' knack
Cops flak, abused by termites and small silverfish
You midgets will soon learn what 'little' is
So scant, a min-im-al-ist, this pygmy sits
Two-feet high like the shrimpiest infant is
She's a Lilliputian, it gives the illusion
That she's distant... which is confusin'
Look at this cute miniature human
She's proving that booster-seats can be seducin'

Stand really tall, you damn little dwarf!
Man, you're so small, it's a wonder!
When shorty leaves the house she rides in a pram or
Roars 'round atop a mouse like a damn horse
She's pitiful, horribly misfortunate
Cuz her little pixie body's disproportionate
To not crash, she has crates that are stacked up in
The driver’s seat to see past the dash, when she's gas-pumpin'

Body as small as dill pickles
So she bought silly new stilts to help lift her out
From the insect crowds; it's loud
When you're sixteen inches above the ground
(With 'em!)
Livin' down 'round your stinky sneakers
A hanky for a towel. She talks squeaky, high-pitched
Teensy-weensy young squirt who's elfish
This gal is less than half the length that my belt is!
Auditioned for Twelfth Night, got shelved with
Tinkerbell's bit

"She's no Shaq, her puny span isn't B-I-G.
Yeah, to us, we think she's tiny!"
(Yo, she's tiny!)

Stand really tall, you damn little dwarf!
Man, you're so small, it's a wonder!
When shorty walks about, she's bullied by ant hordes
Scorned by all dwarves, she shouts out ‘You’re manwhores!’
She's pretty small, hardly an enormous miss
For her contraception? Aglets on her shopping list!
‘A little short’, so I thought that she’d want money
If anybody calls her a ‘halfwit’... that’s not funny!

Mini Me’s babe. Hitched as his bride, yup
Fricking gets pissed off if sidewalks rise up
Even with a height (limit when in) line for a ride, she’ll
Just trick the guide, wearing nine-inch high-heels
Her wage decreases if she won’t sing ‘Hi Ho’
She never sleeps because ants snore all night long
Snow White makes her scrub, mop and wipe up
Humping dandruff snowmen? She’s no tall Goliath…
Gets tripped up in webbing of spiders
Your steps sound like earthquakes
To her Oompah Loompah gait
Everyday she keeps missing high-fivers
Loves to play pranks
Cuz her life’s knee-deep with such pint-sized fun!

Stand really tall, you damn little dwarf!
Man, you're so small, it's a wonder
When shorty hears cats pounce, she whips out her handgun
Wants to be Tom Thumb’s spouse cuz he's handsome
She’s miniscule, obviously a Smurfy girl
Taller when she’s horizontal than when vertical
She’ll eat the scraps from a cake and shortbread luncheon
But please, nobody mention the fact she is half-Munchkin

Shorty’s the smallest sprout, she’s a damn dwarf!
Shorty’s the smallest sprout, she’s a damn dwarf!
Shorty’s the smallest sprout, she’s a damn dwarf!
Shorty’s the smallest sprout, cuz…

"She's petite!
Pixie dust? Yeah, man, she’s tiny!"
(She’s tiny!)

"Whatchoo talkin’ ‘bout, Willis?"

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 05/22/07 at 1:30 am

WARNING: Mass payout theme

Dramac Godzilla 2007 Rap

http://photo.ringo.com/209/209251886O698392268.jpg

Listen to the downloadable recording

Godzilla!
Killer script pages, staged to thrill ya
These student written plays were iller
Than salmonella-filled mozzarella melted in a griller
Blog: The Musical? Made emo losers cool
Like A Tiger? Frightened hikers
Comeback Kid? Packed with fun and wit
And next up, Insex helped to cash some cheques

“Blog, short for web log.” Or better still, a
Clever acronym for ‘Ban Luke Outta Godzilla’
Hell, this fella pitched a script, but the cast had to write it
Guys, it might be better to just add some gas and light it
Batboy provided the best alibi incase he wrecked it
…getting James Brechney to direct it
Heck, The Walrus Man couldn’t direct eight lanes of freight trains
At a station, caked in red and orange and green facepaint
It’s just lucky that Joshy hasn’t got a life
And doodled up some groovy music to get youse out of strife
Cuz otherwise, Blog would probably be one of the few
Productions viewed as worse than last year’s Comedy Revue
Once you had got in a room, two nights away from openin’
With a full cast at preview, there was some tiny hope in
A last minute miracle effort getting your sheesh together
And pulling it off… like Stephen when he’s in front of a mirror
Evidently Stephanie was just too overly apt
With the material, the opposite of Brendan when he rapped
Poor young Josh had less stage time than his role in 1.5
Plus I think I saw King Kong climbing up Tali’s beehive
(Wrong play?)
Patrick guzzled goon then channeled Bill Cosby
The computer monitor got to second base with Rodney
Phil had his arms tattooed up like Marilyn Manson
Before breaking his glasses arsing around breakdancin’ 
Eloise was a narrator, but it wasn’t her choice
Besides Juliet, it’s her only role without an old man voice
You’d always hear Nisa giggling like a frigging dumb blonde
And I never thought I’d see Alisa with bigger pompoms

Harry looked like the type of wifebeater who’d swipe your wallet
Holy mackerel, a shaved head… at the back’s a giant mullet
Yeah bro, fully bro, Kegs has made a video
And “we shall see, we shall see” if this play’s ready to go
Alice’s face was the place you could smack up and smash blocks
Her miner’s lamp knocked off… just like the theatre cash box
Sam would always rock up to shows sweaty and tipsy
His directing style was more ‘in tents’ than Bedouin gypsies

But enough about the play where Ricky Rickster’s bones broke
Next is Comeback Nick, who would laugh at his own jokes
And laugh at lackluster parts… laugh at his laughter
Then laugh at the hundreds of “Johnson!” jokes after
You want  a flat chest… check out Matt’s chest
His body fat would not amount to Kristen’s left breast
But don’t fret, unless it’s your acoustic guitar
Like a glue stick in a bra, your music glued to our hearts
Multari’s chortles were annoying as a flaccid penis
His laugh’s like the hybrid of breeding jackass hyenas
I guess Leigh likes being a Pom with his spoken word
Twice as annoying in his accent as Prince Charming the Third
And how he stomped his foot in anger… such emotion was stormin’
That his pulse was almost raised to a pace above dormant
Who’s that messenger character fetching a plum with such calm rage?
The longest monologue Luke Armstrong’s ever done on stage

Luke number four with the damn large grin
Whispers just like a foghorn with an amp plugged in
As for Aurka causing laughter backstage… “Man, stop!”
He should have been cast as a click beetle “Mmm *cluck* bop!”
Maddi bared more teeth grinning in her dance than her mating bites
Applying cream was required by Nib from those chafing tights
Each night, Emi went from harmless plant to striptease greenery
And Dean must have indigestion from chewing up the scenery
Dane’s facial expressions outdid Andy Dick being throttled
And Karla’s ‘Shell’ looked more battered up than when Nick hits the bottle
Squeeze was once more geriatric, with that singsong drawl
But twenty three year olds can still do tricks with pingpong balls
All thanks to Kim we spent hours with soap, scrubbing our faces
Anna made outfits accentuating all the wrong places
Jenna loved doing lighting… fast finger work in a black box
So all in all I think we’ve proved just how much Dramac sucks
“Spoon!”

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 06/10/07 at 7:41 am

WARNING: Sexual references, crude humour, content may offend

Rape Rape Dakota
Downloadable MP3

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/BlueDress.jpg

Y’all can call this fool drooling like a stunned mullet ‘Nib’
But I’m hardly amorous toward some old harlot deb
My preference is different: prepubescent starlet kids
Like that heaven-sent Dakota Fanning from Charlotte’s Web

For this Dreamer, the thoughts your true story can inspire…
Hannah, you get me hotter than a freaking Man On Fire
I admire how well you put up with that lame Tom Cruise freak
(Your first feature ain’t the only ‘TomKat’ which made you shriek)

But now enough Hide and Seek (and enough ringing screeches!)
My love flutters out toward you, girl, like Wingéd Creatures
It would break my heart to discover that you were Taken
No fakin’… under the covers my hands are shakin’

I feel so Trapped like Malcolm In The Middle, gal
Cuz you make me love you, love you… with a “little Elle"
I’ll be your Father Xmas, hold you longer than Orlando
And award you your first Oscar (filled with innuendo)

Rape Dakota, rape rape Dakota
Why have to wait until she’s five years older?
Rape Dakota, rape rape Dakota
You know she’s legal either side of the border…
Rape Dakota, rape rape Dakota
Girl, you’re even sweeter than cherry soda
Rape Dakota, rape rape Dakota
That’s why I wrote ya this here ode, to…

Like Hurricane Mary in Spin City my heart is twirled out
You misheard, it ain’t ‘cookie’ I want from this Girl Scout
Like Polanski I’m antsy and can’t see need for compliance
Let this banshee’s panties hit my bedroom floor ‘with defiance’

I Am Sam-pling this blossom very prematurely
Best off testing the produce when cherry season’s early
South Dakota’s growth is luscious, as a matter of fact
Yo, pussy and head go together like The Cat In The Hat

Plus it will seem I’ve got Nine Lives the way that I’ll keep rising
We’re just Friends in your chaste eyes, but to me you’re chastising
Girl, let’s cover all bases and race Goldie through her paces
Lower your face to learn a great new way to polish your braces

I’ll have you ‘Tide’ to the bed like your first commercial didn’t
Hittin’ it harder than it is to learn your style of knittin’
Lightning will strike twice like in Sweet Home Alabama
I’ll ram ya so hard your next film will be done with a stammer

Rape Dakota, rape rape Dakota
Why have to wait until she’s five years older?
Rape Dakota, rape rape Dakota
You know she’s legal either side of the border…
Rape Dakota, rape rape Dakota
Girl, you’re even sweeter than cherry soda
Rape Dakota, rape rape Dakota
That’s why I wrote ya this here ode, to…

Your Halloween Scarlett O’Hara roleplay is done with such ease
And you look gorgeous as Snow White… get down on your knees
Georgia’s The Peach State and this juice is worth the squeeze
Please, don’t leave me like you ditched The Secret Life of Bees

Show me Uptowns, Girl. My love will have your toes curled
As I invade you like those aliens in War Of The Worlds
I’ll teach you things that Jan Cerwonka would never know
And we’ll go at it more times than you’ve done The Ellen Show

You look like Gollum? No problem, goblins’ noggins don’t faze me
I’ll fist you as if you were a Muppet who sang Do Re Mi
Though evidently ten seconds within your eminent presence
Would inseminate you sooner than when you’re naming the presidents

Let’s be together forever like Groundhog Day
Swivel that pelvis with your Elvis Presley Hounddog sway
Unroll the child protection while I goad ya, standing erect
And we’ll film our own Untitled Dakota Fanning Project

Rape Dakota, rape rape Dakota
Why have to wait until she’s five years older?
Rape Dakota, rape rape Dakota
You know she’s legal either side of the border…
Rape Dakota, rape rape Dakota
Girl, you’re even sweeter than cherry soda
Rape Dakota, rape rape Dakota
That’s why I wrote ya this here ode, to
Rape Dakota

Subject: Re: ...Nib Oswald...

Written By: Luke Brattoni on 10/20/07 at 1:54 am

WARNING: Mass payout theme, stalking theme, reeeaaally testing those strains of patience theme

EmiLoca

http://i4.photobucket.com/albums/y110/dragonangelfairy/NebraskaDollBoxS