Category Archives: experimental writing

Poim

I think there was too much!

I think there was too much!

You can direct my question, direct my question.

Oh boy.

Detachable manners all know how to play.

The ball still nearly broke hobby and Sindh.

Hobby and Sindh.

Hobby and Sindh.

But I have almost my ticket hobby.

Oh, the lineup was shot!

The lineup was shit!

I think there was too much!

.

The right way to play all season.

Praise be to the squirrel god.

A shorts story

Why the hell was I wearing shorts in the middle of February after a snowstorm?

I didn’t know and I didn’t care. I didn’t care for Trump, I didn’t care for “the resistance”, I didn’t care for Claudio Ranieri, I didn’t care for anything. I mean, for a start I was British and still am. Trump would never my direct leader unless he took over Britain by force. I was neutral as neutral could be.

I finished my pint of water and went to the gents. I was the delightful grey covering the walls, the scrubbed-out graffiti saying Don’t Trust Anyone. I whipped my cock out. 3.5 inches flaccid. I didn’t particularly want it to be 35 unlike some of the men talking at the urinals about how their wives were shit in bed. I shook, zipped my shorts back up and went out to laughter.

I turned around. “How fucking DARE you insult my shorts!” I slammed the door.

More laughter.

Still stand by what I say.

The shorts are my god.

Whirling tiptoe strangers (inspired by my journey home today)

Humanoid clouds float around my presence, talking about everything from football to anal warts.

I try to sleep but the god of such is on vacation.

Graagh.

I doze into the music in my ears. Bowie tells me to read more into reality. Alice tells me to be just that little bit more anarchist. Freddie tells me to become larger than life. I construct a new reality from these distant echoes, one more involving than the various discussions.

Finally, I awake. I gargle with Super Cola™ and eat milk. Sugaaaar.

Counting the particles of food between my teeth

I need a dentist, I sing.

Oh lord I need a dentist.

They say the Brits have awful teeth, well I’m the poster child.

I look like Shane McGowan’s lovechild.

Oh to have those Osmond-sparkling teeth.

I brush every day but my teeth don’t magically turn into a perfect set.

Or a rabbit.

Or a rabbi.

Or a Robbie.

Or a Ronald McDonald acid trip featuring Grimace in lingerie.

Necessary?

In the morning I wash with Pears soap and eat Kellogs cereal with Tetley tea. I then go into the fields and check on my Google Cows and Apple iChickens.

Then to the village shop, owned by Walmart, then I attend Mass at the village church under the auspices of Unilever.

After Mass, I get back and hand-slaughter a Google Cow with my trusty Johnson and Johnson knife. Then I have a nap for a few hours in my Toshiba bed before milking the rest of the Google Cows with my Microsoft Milking Device.

For tea I have some Google Cow milk milked with the Microsoft Milking Device and the Google Cow steak from the earlier slaughter. Mmm mm.

That night I shower with Ford shower gel and dry my hair with a Tesco drier.

Then back to my Toshiba bed to dream of the Electric Sheep corporation.

On leaving Chapter 25

At the beginning of Chapter 25, the hero Bernard the Brave entered my life. I supported him in his valiant effort to take down the Establishment, a cabal of darkness enveloping the electorate of Freedomia. Although he eventually lost the fight, the Establishment and their Lady Hillary were eventually slaughtered by the tyrannical Ye Donalde. By the end of the chapter, Ye Donalde had enacted draconian laws forbidding much of Gaia from entering Freedomia.

The people of Albion, empowered in hatred of Emperor Kam Eron, voted against his dream of staying in Europa. This drove the Emperor into retirement and led to Ye Donalde’s wife Emperess Tree Sah replacing him.

Famous Gaians continued to drop like flies.

My work remained unfinished.

I remained Szin.

As I enter Chapter 26 I vow to finish my work. I may never get to defeat Ye Donalde, but they say the pen is mightier than any sword.