Excerpts from the Sleepless Cycle - Hag

The night hag comes while I sleep. With her wooden ladle she eats soup out of my open head. She stirs my dreams and sniffs the vapors through her hairy nostrils.

That's why they're always whirling when I wake up, and only the bits she left I can remember.

I will find you witch. I will take my dreams back. I can shatter them myself, all but the same.

Spiteful Ode to a Butter Fly

Butterfly, damn butterfly.

You're not a real butterfly.

You're just a normal fly,

which sat upon my butter

that's why I'm gonna now,

I'm gonna fetch the swatter.

And I will surely avenge

my now infected butter,

for it's the only thing

which in my life does matter.

You sat on my left cheek.

Some say it is a bless.

But if on me I hit you,

my own face I will mess.

So go away fly,

go away.

Spit down on your path you lay.

I don't want you in my kitchen

and I hate your buzz to listen.

I don't like you as a pet

You're just here for my nape's sweat.

Did I get you?

Did I not?

To find the body I cannot.

So I sit on triumph's verge,

while you, from behind emerge.

And you fly to the next room,

cunningly delaying your doom.

Fly you toadfood!

Fly you cunt!

I will get you when you land.

* * *

* Traditional anti-fly song by the peoples of Swamp Cukoucukacou, during the first Swamplordiness election. The toads won that time, with the mosquitoes coming very close, contrary to the general belief that the Electric Racketman has always claimed lordship.

First published in Kernel Kiki's 1894 poem and song collection, titled “Silliously?”

 

News - Introducing News and Rev. Fitz's Challenge

Welcome to News, where we talk about the past.

The following series is created by the exceptionally perceptive writer and cartoonist (among others) Rev. Fitz

It follows Malcolm Steadman along his early-morning meteor shower of ominous realizations, while he only does what he believes to be “nothing”.

The proof: Existential Terror and Breakfast  

It's the simple stuff that get you nervous.

The inescapable, mundane activities you have to go through in order to be and therefore think.

Every little detail of that small around you. They perpetually repeat before your eyes until reality's colors fade away and the things which were previously defined and common, are now something new.

They have become a question.

A completely unexpected and superficially illogical one, yet enough to fire the engines of an inevitable train of thought.

It can be anything, really.

Like breakfast.

Malcolm Steadman has breakfast every day and every day he has mixed feelings about it.

It's witty, humorous and contemplative and bottom line is I enjoy it a lot. It's as enjoyable as if food for thought is actually ice cream and you just realized you're not lactose intolerant.

So check it out.

Also, check out the “31 Days of First Impressions Challenge” he started: Day 23: Denham's Dentifrice

  

Every day he's judging yet another book by its cover. He was kind to speak his mind about Denham's Dentifrice.

He likes squares too

That's all for now.

News Out.

Once Upon in Al' Dah Kash

Once upon a time, there was a sultan who was mostly stingy and enjoyed counting his money and numerous possessions more than anything.