***This extraordinary piece of highbrow literature is featured in my new book, “Bludgeon the Clown” on sale now (follow the link above to www.sallemander.com). I don’t actually remember writing this horrible little rhyme (though it amuses the hell out of John…), but Niggle was a little jerk who made a runny, sniffly nuisance of himself on a ten hour flight to Dusseldorf – with no tissues. When I finally managed to snag him on a fingernail I took immense pleasure in kneading him between two fingers until he dried up and stopped screaming. He is now a permanent smear in the booger graveyard under seat #22F on flight 1134. -Marsha
The worms had invested several generations in this project. They were steadfast and intrepid. It took months to meticulously scour every inch of the box to find flaws in the smooth laminate – the tiniest gaps in the seal – then year upon year of boring , rotting and tunneling through hard woods and glues. They had never met Faith…had no idea what kind of person she was, but from the quality of her box, they trusted that she had taste…was tasteful. (Tasty?)
The worms celebrated their first breakthrough as a holiday. It was a momentous achievement. A pauper’s box was easy to tap but was quickly overrun by poachers, a rich person’s box, though a major endeavor, was a rich prize. The worms took time to reflect and remember their forebears who began this campaign with such hope and ambition. It was good to be a worm and sure to get better…
…But, when they finally breached Faith’s inner cavern, they were appalled at the stench. It wasn’t the tasteful (rotten) odor of a well fed, well groomed lady, whose conquest would fill their bellies as much as their pride, it was the vile reek of toxins…death to worms. They found Faith, in brand name products.
She was slathered in chemical cosmetics, pumped full of formaldehyde, lead and mercury and her flesh, saturated with food additives and preservatives. She had fake hair, fake nails, fake boobs, lips and joints. She looked as perfectly pickled now as the day she was buried…but for the worms, Faith was completely inedible. Disconsolate and defeated, they turned away wondering what the modern world was coming to.
***Some would qualify Faith, with all her enhancements, as a “cyborg” (how exciting!). However, the products which enhanced her beauty also shortened her life. Oh, but never mind that! I’m sure she’s been looking up at her corpse this past decade, quite proud of its everlasting glamour. As to the worms, I’m afraid there isn’t much hope. Perseverance and integrity don’t count for much any more. Meanwhile, today’s graveyards are tomorrow’s superfund sites. This image is published in our new book, “Bludgeon the Clown” as the ‘Chapter 6: Death’ page illo. It was originally our 21st post from Feb., 2016. Good luck Christmas shopping…try not to poison your children. -Marsha
Darryl woke up with that feeling again – impossible to describe but all too familiar at this point. He kept his eyes closed for a while longer, savoring the dream he was having about his old, normal life…before all the changes…before every morning became a horror show, wondering if he would find another growth.
He did his best to soothe his anxiety, tried to make lemonade out of the lemons that seemed to be smothering him. After all, how could yet another, extra hand possibly be all that bad for a skilled craftsman who worked with his hands? Each one seemed to have all his talent and strength. His productivity tripled, he was making money hand-over-fist (no pun intended) and for the first time in his life, people found him kinda interesting…..
But…waking up every few days with another fully formed hand growing out of some empty patch of his flesh was really starting to effect his sanity.
***This was a tough image to pull out of John’s thick head but with an iron skillet and a power drill I finally managed it (long story) and it lead to a new book project called “Body-Oddies” (which won’t be done for at least a year). -Marsha
There once was a Clown named Fudge, whose bowels refused to budge. He’d sit and he’d sit but just couldn’t shit, not even a gob or a smudge.
***Fudge was the first ‘REAL’ Clown we ever interviewed who we regard with some affection as he exploded shortly after John sketched out this scene. He turned out okay but destroyed a strip mall along with 27 cars and pasted us all in fudge…we laughed…..and laughed… -Marsha
Spindle the Clown was really old, so he went to Miami for rest but drank more vodka than he could hold and collapsed with a pain in his chest.
He died that night in his hotel suit but not before fouling his shorts and hurling his lunch from his chest to his feet in retching, heaving, snorts.
Nobody knew he was there, by chance, having very few friends, to be sure, and his room was paid for the month in advance with “DO NOT DISTURB!”on the door.
So his body sat in the heat to bloat and his organs turned to soup and flies laid eggs in his nose and throat and beetles infested his poop.
Rats and roaches came up through the shower, the odors were pungent and fresh and feasted on Spindle for 93 hours, stripping his bones of flesh.
When housekeeping finally entered the room, hardly a crumb remained. Spindle the Clown was completely gone, except for his creepy brain.
Hello, I’m Marsha and this is our blog. I do all the writing and John does all the art (but I’m in charge). We’re working on several (Graphic Novel) book projects – the first, “Marsha Mellow’s Blue-ish Freaks” will be out soon.
We met Spindle the Clown a few years ago while researching death rituals among the Clown species. We spent a week documenting his demise – only to witness him defy death in the end. Sadly, his brain grew up to be a corporate banker…..tragic. John insisted that we use this image for our first post for some strange symbolism that only idiotic artists understand. Whatever!