Tag Archives: graffiti

Spatter The Clown

spatter-the-clown-67Spatter the Clown was feeling glum.                                                                   He’d had a really bad day.                                                                                           He lost his job.  His car got towed.                                                                         His wife turned out to be gay.                                                                                   He walked the streets a homeless drunk.                                                          “Nobody loves me!” he said.                                                                                      So he stuck a handgun into his ear                                                                            and blew out the side of his head.                                                                             That’s when he had a funny thought….. 

***This is an image from my newest book, ‘Marsha Mellow’s Creepy Clown Coloring Book’ and a poem from ‘Bludgeon the Clown’ which I am currently preparing for publication in the spring.  I’ve often said that this is not a political blog…and this time I really mean it.  There is no connection to the recent election of our latest worst president and the state of mind of the electorate…not political.  -Marsha  

Making “Speech”

making-speech-54      Oh no!  What are they doing?  Are they going to talk now or…?   Oh god!  They’re about to make…..”SPEECH!”  Oh, eeeeeew, its all over the podium, it even smells like speech.

Every time these political types get up in front of people, they speech and they speech and they speech, incessantly.  Its the worst, the nastiest – sloppiest speech you ever heard.  Like a big steaming pile of drunken speech stumbling about, speeching its filth everywhere.

Oh well, I guess its a sign of the times…but just look at the crowd gathering, its sickening – and they love it.  Ooooh, now they’re spraying the stage with raw speech, projecting hot, sleazy speech all over everybody…..as they bath in it with relish.  Oh, the humanity!  And no matter how I try to avoid it, I end up covered in it too.  It spatters my shoes, my clothes and gushes painfully from my ears.

I thought it might be different this time around.  I thought we all might have a good healthy discussion like civilized people…..but all we got is more “speech”.

***Was that another clusterfuck debate on Sunday?  Is there ANY intelligent person willing to vote for one of those two assholes?  My god…we are soooooo screwed…..  Meanwhile, Our image is from our wonderful new coloring book, which you can buy on our EEWbooks Etsy store/site.  Here’s the link…  https://www.etsy.com/shop/EEWbooks?ref=hdr_shop_menu   -Marsha

I Am Joe’s Big Left Toenail

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I am Joe’s big left toe nail.  See me soar through the air like a demented boomerang.  I know not where I shall land but I’ll probably miss the trash bin because Joe’s ability to aim the stuff he spits out is for shit.

I guess Joe finally got tired of my glorious reign at the tip of his big toe as master of all I surveyed.  I must have threatened his manhood (or ruined the toe of one too many socks).  He tried to clip me with a fingernail trimmer but I valiantly resisted – and broke it – so he got pissed off, sat down on the toilet and bit me right off his toe with his teeth.

I say, ‘Good riddance to Joe!’  I shall become king of all the gross stuff next to his overflowing trash can – as I can see that I am already the mightiest of all the toe nails there and I shall rule for an eternity, since Joe is far too lazy to clean his friggin’ bathroom, which smells like the squeaky ass end of a dead rhinoceros on a hot, sunny day.

***Yes, we have the cult classic “Fight Club” to thank for the inspiration for this flash-fiction fragment.  It originated as a prompt in our Saturday ‘Free-Write’ workshop with the  Montclair NJ Write Group.  I pilfered the “Feet” image from one of John’s horrible Clown illustrations, slated for publication in 2017 in our book, “Bludgeon the Clown”.  -Marsha

 

Labyrinth

Labyrinth-28      His dreams were frantic.  She was always just-out-of-reach and each time he caught a glimpse, she was further away than before as he chased her through the labyrinth of his anxiety.  He KNEW he was only dreaming…  he KNEW she lay right next to him, asleep…but he could neither escape any more than catch up to her.  And as his heart broke apart and crumbled to pieces for the one he had loved unconditionally, he realized that these pathetic dreams were better than his reality.  This was all he had left, so he relished in the chase each night…..for just one more night…and tried to remember all the good things they’d had for a few precious moments more…before she faded completely, leaving him alone in the labyrinth.

***Our poor friend Balthazar lost his cat recently…well, she’s not missing – we’re not out searching or anything – I mean, he had a falling out with his precious Miss Fuzzy Britches a few weeks ago and hasn’t been able to patch things up.  I wrote this little piece for them…though I don’t hold out much hope.  Meanwhile, Our new book is out.  Its beautiful and awful and available by following the link at the top/right to our site;  www.sallemander.com .  -Marsha

Blue-ish Freaks

Blue-ish-cover-27 ***Our new book is finally out and available for sale at; www.sallemander.com (just use the link at the upper right).  Its also been a while since we posted a decent (horrible) Clown poem, so…  -Marsha

Blue-ish the Clown was a dangerous Freak,                                                  not just because of his looks, so to speak;                                                   True, both his legs were mismatched and lame                                           but neither were both of his arms quite the same.                                      So he scuttled about on his one giant hand                                               which dwarfed his oversized skull, understand?                                       Those weren’t the things, though, that made him a prick.               There was something much deeper and darker and sick.                    See, Blue-ish was closeted, Christian and white                                       from the Neo-con, fascist corporate right.                                                 Need I say anything more tonight?

Too Many Cooks in the Kitchen

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Food was scarce.  People were struggling.  The war was taking it’s toll as there were shortages of everything from fuel to toilet paper to empathy.  Rationing was severe and people were showing signs of stress.  There was unemployment, hunger and daily violent protests against the government who caused this blowback war after decades of capitalist conquest.  There was no sign of improvement on the horizon and…..food was scarce.

Leon’s Bar and Grill, however, seemed to be an exception to the misery. Leon, the proprietor, had a brilliant (desperate) idea a few months back when he realized he had too many cooks in the kitchen and not enough food to serve.  Seeing his business on the brink of failure, he did the only logical thing;  He ‘fired’ all his cooks and took over in the kitchen personally.  He posted a new menu featuring ‘Chef’s specials’ like Chef’s Stew, Chef Pot Pie and Roasted Leg of Chef.  He fired them all… in the big convection oven (though a few got deep fried, stewed…or grilled…..and one guy got sautéed in a wok) and his business has been thriving ever since.

Funny thing, though…once he solved his cook problem, he settled an old issue with that annoying waitress, Marge and finally took care of that pesky neighborhood Clown who always annoyed his customers as they came and went.

These days, ‘Leon’s’ is the only establishment in town with a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the window…and I hear the food’s really good.

***We thought a little cannibalism this week would be a welcome break from what has become the norm in America;  Illegal war, torture, kidnapping, rape, assassination, terrorism, corruption,  usury, inequality and a massive political freak show.  Hmmmm…..eating people’s got nothin’ on the U.S. gov’t. – so, bon appetit!  -Marsha

 

Jonny Bot 5

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Jonny Bot 5 got horny and hot                                                                                 for a high fashion mannequin girl (who did NOT!).                              Classy and fine, Jonny loved her a lot,                                                              she turned up her nose…a high minded snot.                                                  He brought wild flow’rs by the bunch, by the pot,                                   tried candy, tried gems, read poems – what ROT!                                      But kindness in turn Jonny 5 never got,                                                           not an ounce, not a peck, not even a jot.                                                       Tried…..and tried ’till his brains were quite shot                                        until finally…Jonny went cold……and forgot.

***Thought we’d start 2016 on a cheery high note with this post.  When we met Jonny Bot 5 he was retired from the department store and past his bad marriage with the mannequin…but was engaged in a sordid online sex thing with Siri the phone chick…it was…well, lets just say ‘I wish I could un-see some things.’  I think John got some good sketches but our publisher (EEW Books) censored them.  -Marsha

Constant Craving

constant craving-13

“Constant gravy!!…or did he say constant craving!?” but everyone was already writing and the professor’s response was garbled…sure, okay, constant gravy seemed right.  I was feeling pretty woozy since I cut myself shaving earlier and couldn’t make it stop bleeding.  It just gushed, thick and goopy…yeah, constant gravy…coool!

What began as a simple nick under my nose, got worse a few minutes later when blood started running down my cheek.  An hour later, it was dripping copiously.  In two hours it was a steady flow and by lunchtime I was squirting all over the place, soaking my clothes, the furniture and painting the walls.  It was impossible to concentrate as the room kept spinning faster and faster…..

I must have spaced out for a while because when I woke, the stuff leaking out was no longer red.  Thankfully it was just cheese wizz leaking from the push nozzle on my head.  What?!…don’t you have a nozzle?…and what’s so weird about that?  Best of all, the harder I pumped the thicker it flowed…aaaaah, pretty…..

I must have spaced out for a while…..what was I saying?…

***This really happened.  Its lucky that John got a good sketch of this guy at the writing workshop before things went sideways.  This post is a shortened version of the story…but we didn’t want to give away all the best parts before we publish it in our BODY-ODDIES book.  -Marsha

Jack in the Box

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Jack the Jester lived in a box                                                                             ’cause he had no legs or feet                                                                                   and liked popping out of his box -SURPRISE!!                                                -to frighten the children…NEAT!                                                                             He loved young children most of all,                                                                     so innocent, kind and sweet.                                                                                  The crunchier ones always tasted best                                                             but the chubby ones had more meat.

***Aaaaah, for some reason this one always makes me think of Christmas;  Mindless shopping, mall traffic, gaudy decorations, gluttony and crass consumerism (that should have been the title).   Mmmmmm…and every year it just gets better and better.  -Marsha

Diplomat

 

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I do nothing all day but sit in my cell, chained to the wall in a puddle of rancid liquid.  The place is filthy, the toilet hasn’t worked in weeks and they put that awful television box in with me as my only form of entertainment.  It screams at me and blathers their inane, selfish ‘culture’ all day and its all I can do to block it out, lest I lose my sanity.  The only decent people I have to talk with are the cockroaches, who seem to come and go as they please…

They take me out twice a week to show me off to their military luminaries while their (so-called) scientists run ‘tests’.  They mostly probe my anus and shock my genitals and laugh like lunatics as they torture me.  I don’t understand their obsession with my junk – and I don’t get the reference to it as “payback”.  My people have never visited this place before.

They are an ugly people.  I don’t mean their pasty, bloated flesh, two meager eyes and stubby fingers that make them look like deformed infants.  I’m referring to their brutish indifference to justice, authoritarian rule and the cognitive dissonance of the masses.  The racist, nasty things they call me…well, I can’t even begin to repeat in polite company.  This is certainly no way to treat an ambassador.

I would never have come to this primitive cesspool if it wasn’t for engine trouble – and a spread of ballistic missiles that took all the dignity out of my crash landing.  These people ignored my distress calls and now refuse to honor my diplomatic immunity…..boy oh boy, when the mother ship gets here to rescue me, they are gonna FRY this place!

***John’s illustration was first published as the June 2007 cover to Asimov’s Science Fiction magazine for a story by Neal Asher.  I wrote this tiny ‘Diplomat’ piece for fun.  There was NO intention to sympathize with the treatment of political prisoners currently held, without charge or trial, by the United States….none what-so-ever.   -Marsha