397 lines
13 KiB
Plaintext
397 lines
13 KiB
Plaintext
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Complements of THE HAUNTED HOUSE -- 415/941/7256
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The Writings of the Mad Scribe -- Volume III
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[Letters to the Mad Scribe may be sent via China Jones at flbd #63.]
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LIKE DETERGENT (inspired by miss virgin herself (virgin in
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that an elephant hasn't gotten to her.) (yet.)
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I made it through the dirty dishes
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Armed with my Brillo pads
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Never knew how to remove baked beans
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Until i found these ads
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Now i say, what a day!
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This thing is fantastically great
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'cause it seems so real
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Yet it doesn't really feel
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Like skin peeling away
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Like detergent
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Suds for the very first time
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Like detergent
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And it only costs a dime
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Well, It saves your pretty hands
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And grease disappears just like that
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Who cares if you have to rinse an hour
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To remove crusty bacon fat
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The only thing, that worries me
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Is that the color is a sickening green
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But as long as it works
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I don't care if it burps
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Just so it vomits in the can
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Like detergent
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Palmolive may soften your hands
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Like detergent
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But it doesn't consume small insects
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blub blub blub blub blub
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blub blub blub blub blub
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blub blub blub blub blub
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blub blub blub blub blub blub blub blub
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So it's ugly; No big whirl
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I don't care about Ivory girls
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This thing is much nicer
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It's also a meat slicer MM MM // SSSSSS
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And it opens beer cans M M M M // S
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M M M // SSSSSS
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Like detergent M M // S
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15 percent acid rain M M // SSSSSS
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Like detergent
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It can be polite or raise cain
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Like detergent
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Oh yes, Fred goo's like detergent
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His brain is green because
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of the mutant moss, of the mutant moss <--truly profound
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That's a legit cause? incomprehensible
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SMOOTH AND CREAMY BUTTER
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Chorus:
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Creamy butter
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Tastes great on toast, believe me
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It's like no other
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Before you know it you'll hate margarine
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Words:
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(a slight madness block took place here; be insane and write
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your own)
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OPADEE YOU NEED A... TO SCREAM THE IMPOSSIBLE SCREAM
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Opadee exciting lawn mower! To scream the impossible scream
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Opadeeee This thing eats up To yell the impossible yell
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Opadee the grass in ten To bust your beautiful larynx
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Opa seconds flat! Sing for six hours straight
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Rumma Rumma
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(repeat)
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Insanity isn't easy to come by these days...the creative urge is
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gone...oh well, maybe tomorrow... . . . . . . . .
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. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
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Yoreksitovsky . . . . . . . .
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Halleluiah Garbage tastes good My lamp broke Where's my wallet
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Halleluiah
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A Word from the Holy Agnostic
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Do unto others and run.
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Thy neighbor will be thy brother to collect from thy will.
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And God said, "Let there be light." And the power company said,
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"Give us six more days."
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The Bible does not have a monopoly on wise sayings; it is quoted
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more than any other source because its copyright has long ago
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expired.
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And God created man in his own image...while He was drunk.
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Iconoclasts leave gods to be desired.
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What the hell...Heaven just might exist.
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Question: If Noah's ark carried two of every living thing, how
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come he didn't catch pneupoliomeaslesmump feverpox?
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And now for tender tasty beefy bits...
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Fortified with 1 non-essential vitamins
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Vitamin ? -.42177%
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Worly Katumzel Losing the creative urge
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Worly Katumzel I eat with my mouth open
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My knee is in your dumbbell Reaching below is a sudden oops
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Worly Katumzel Here's wishing that I was hoping
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Beter Polit Losing the creative urge
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Beter Polit Surgical glove on my knee
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Season or know it Your pinkie has beneath a beach
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Beter Polit Sawdust in the sky beneath the sea
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Gumshee Cradowack Losing the creative urge
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Gumshee Cradowack Pants on my head, glove on my ear
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A pitchfork in your back Besides making waste for comment
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Scan the desert for signs of air
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Jerfud Nivone
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Jerfud Nivone Lyre sounds like liar
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Turkey Bouillon Perturbed is my nail polish
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Jerfud Nivione But having it all is undisturbed
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Losing the creative urge
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Someone has nothing below me
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Someone has nothing above me
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I have nothing at all
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Where did all the umbrellas go?
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To the Vatican for mincing meat
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Puzzle:
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Change knick to knock in 27 steps (not 1, 27! no repeating
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allowed)
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Solution:
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knick ugexz lllpl Neon Neon Neon
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kneck ugixz lllll Neon Neon Neon
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knert usixz fllll
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onert asipz fnlll
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ogert asipn fnlcl
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igert aoipn fnlck
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igerz loipn ynlck
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igewz loipl ynock
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ugewz llipl knock
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Questions:
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Is life worth living?
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Is life worth dying for?
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Is life worth living for?
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Is life worth ten hedgehogs and a dead red whoopee cushion?
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GUIDE TO MAD SCRIBEDOM aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee
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All MS work created by the Mad Scribe himself and is guaranteed
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to be 100% original.
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All MS work may be reproduced anywhere except on other BBS's.
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Simply give credit to M/S (only for popularization purposes)
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on the parchment, magnetic media, or other form of recording
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material.
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HERE IS A LISTING OF THE M/S FILES
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MS SUP1
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MS CVR AND LIST
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MS PHILO
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MS VOCAB
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MS WD FLWR
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MS MAP
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MS THE SPOT
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MS XMAS
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MS DESERT
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MS SERIOUS!
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MS ELP TORT
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MS HOLIDAY
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--> MAD SCRIBES NEED TO RETURN TO REALITY ONCE IN A WHILE TO <--
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--> SATISFY THEIR PHYSICAL NEEDS <--
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--> NUTRIENTS, CLOTHING, SHELTER <--
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--> AND <--
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--> CRAYONS <--
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--> (SO I WRITE WITH ELECTRIC CRAYONS) <--
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THEY ALSO NEED FELLOW SCRIBES
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SEND ALL CURRENCY DONATIONS
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(ALL PRECIOUS METALS AND STONES ACCEPTED)
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ORIGINAL CONTRIBUTIONS (M/S WORK)
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TO
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WALLY PINCUSHION
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M/S CRAYON FUND
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AND
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SCRIBE SEARCH
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WHERE WE REACH OUT FOR THE SCRIBES
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AND ASPHYXIATE THEM WITH DECAPITATED PENCIL SHAVINGS
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C/O THIS BBS
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INSANITY REIGNS SUPREME!
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bloobie blop bloobie blop bloobie blop?
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This genre of short story inspired by Terribly Concise Cultinski
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(Junipero hates everyone who can write shorter essays than he)
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(Junipero has decided to scratch the above statement since that
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includes everyone except for maybe Charles Darwin)
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The Spot (an exercise in creative rambling)
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Once, on the shirt of a little boy, lived a spot. Now this spot,
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whose name was Marvin Melvin Mervin Mulvin the Merciless Masher,
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had no head or body. But everyone knows that spots have no
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organs to speak of or to hear of or to write home about. Of
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course, writing often also produces spots, especially when the
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pen cartridge begins to leak. Leaky pen cartridges usually can
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be attributed to the manufacturer. But let us not be so hasty to
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place the blame on the poor white-haired old man who can barely
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pay his three illegal alien employees the minimum wage. Of
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course, we cannot play favorites since the old man forces each of
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his illiterate employees with a big two-finger thick imitation
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vinyl leather-lookalike whip made in Hong Kong to buy sixty-
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thousand pens each so that he can break even and buy his fat
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senile old wife with varicose veins, painted lips, and a moth-
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eaten old fox fur around her bulging neck a triple scoop of
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exploding half-ripe strawberry fudge caviar ice cream with kiwi
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fruit flavored baby raccoon eyes and a slice of banana shipped by
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first class air from the small Caribbean island of San Salvador
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where old man Christopher stopped over to take a leak and trade
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old cannonball cards with the natives. The old mass of putrid
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and disgusting blue mucus covered with wrinkles and skin two
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sizes too large is so uncoordinated that she probably will drop
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one scoop of that ice cream into the gutter which is only cleaned
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once a week by a quarter-blind moneylender from Northeastern
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Luxembourg (the part with the mountain) who poked his eye out
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while trying to keep his eye on his gold, silver, and various
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denominations of currency from all seven seas that Sinbad crossed
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in his famous fictional story that no one knows who wrote except
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maybe Sinbad who we can't question because he is only a figment
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of our limitless imagination which is only stopped by the sky
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because our mind isn't traveling at a velocity fast enough to
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escape the gravitation influence of the earth. Notice how I am
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violating every single rule of English class. And so the scoop
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of ice cream, gradually soaking into the ground and evaporating
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into the troposphere, disappears from sight, only to reconstruct
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itself on some poor little brat's shirt who simply been minding
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his own business and harbors no grudges against anyone except for
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his best friends Harvey Goldstein and Ogilvie Ali who threw his
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only bike down a well which forced our young jerk in question,
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Master Bzktchkfd, to clamber down into the well and drown since
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he never learned how to swim from human beings, preferring
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instead to watch young Porky Pig flail around helplessly in the
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water and then raise three fingers in time to be caught by a
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superhero swooping overhead at a speed exceeding any known to man
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in those prehistoric (pre-Charlton Heston) days. Since our young
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antihero just happens to fall into the waste water outlet of a
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local detergent company, the spot is eliminated forever and I bid
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you adieu to go and write your own neat little inspired
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masterpieces to win cases of Turtle Wax and Rice-a-Roni.
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CEILING FIXTURES
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Ceiling fixtures are so fine
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My friends think they're simply divine
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There's one small question, that's all:
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Why don't they put them on the wall?
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Ceiling fixtures shining bright
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If only my shoelace worked at night
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Ceiling fixtures there and here
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No one's got them in the ear
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Old age creeping up behind the past
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But ceiling fixtures will always last
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Any electrical problem is not so true
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If purple eggs are sometimes blue
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Ceiling fixtures dangling low
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My friends always like to sew
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Ceiling fixtures under the door
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Someone told me my hat is poor
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TROMBONE IN THE REAR
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Do the trombone in the rear
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One drumstick for each ear
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Violins strapped onto each leg
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And a tuba covering all of my head
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NO LOST UMBRELLAS TODAY
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No lost umbrellas
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I want to see no lost umbrellas
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If you and me are to be happy
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No lost umbrellas today
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HIPPO HIPPO
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Hippo hippo have a poo
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Having one daily is good for you
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Otherwise the manure will mass up inside
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And one day you will go
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POP!
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And you will spray manure and your intestines outside
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All over your hippo friends
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Who will not like you anymore
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Although you would be dead
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And will not deliver your eulogy
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Or come to your funeral
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Or lower your casket into the grave
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Then the pieces of your body
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Would lie all around rotting
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Making a terrible smell
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And revolting the janitor
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So please hippo take your poo
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Good for me and good for you
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And while I'm here reminding you
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I might as well have one too
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AGNOSTIC CITY (This poem is pretty heavy, so please skip it if
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you are easily offended. None of the content
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reflects my own personal opinion (I used the
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words because they rhyme))
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Once I was a studious disciple
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Studying every day by candlelight
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Then my priest had six affairs
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When the pope came he started a fight
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Even if the Church had several gods
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I wouldn't worship the whole lot
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Agnostic city, can't you see
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If God exists, he sure is an S.O.B.
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We could condemn until the dawn
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Burning crosses on the lawn
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Agnostic city, can't you see
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People are sick of the Trinity
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Every time I go over there
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Reverend Priest gives me a hard time
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I can't remember the words to the prayer
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Or even drink that cheap red wine
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Fall asleep during Sunday school
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In the Bible everyone's a fool
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Agnostic city, I never pray
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That I'll become a C.P.A.
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Remember the page Cain was on
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Sing those stupid little songs
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Agnostic city, churches are old
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Now they're even using fake gold
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(Continue as desired)
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GOO
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Goo
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Goo goo goo
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Goo, goo goo, goo goo, goo
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Ga
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Ga ga, ga
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Ga ga ga, ga, ga ga, ga
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Gee
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Gee, gee
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Gee gee gee gee, gee, gee
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STICKS ON HIS BALD HEAD
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I play his pink bald head
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With two sticks of lead
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Before I finish every piece
|
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He has lost several teeth
|
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Then again I could use his feet
|
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But they just don't have enough meat
|
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***And that's it for.....The Writings of the Mad Scribe Volume III***
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Watch the Haunted House (415/941-7256) for new material as soon as it is
|
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|
|
released!
|
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(>
|
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Call The Works BBS - 1600+ Textfiles! - [914]/238-8195 - 300/1200 - Always Open
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