I'm a sock puppet on the hand of a Muppet. I'm a, "fuck it." at the end of a hard day.

I'm Guinness with no record.

I'm a simple quip and I'm on my way.

I'm gonna get ripped in triumph. With a simple trip.

Mind on the road.

No lying. I'm fuckin drivin now.

Ya. Me, bitch. Keep truckin, mother fuckers.

You lucky I'm awake. Keep duckin mother fuckers.

Ya. You a boss.

Oh you hazmat? You has dat? You a Bad ass.

I has that too. Just not as that.

Ya. Honk.

Oh from New York to Flagstaff?

Long haul.

Me I'm ridin the median. It's been said before
But I'm cryin in tedium with the ride of my heater I keep under seats, but the one that I need is disfunctional. Cold as a Russian but shiverin like a timber.

I see them unfurl. The fleeting thesis of my recent creeps entresis...

I entree thee. I need the entire entre, bon day. Monsior. Go on then.

Garson!

No tip.

Whatever French for no is. Now go!

Fuckin faggot frog eaters. Eatings royales and drinking long from their merlot or whatever brine they savor longingly.

We are French! Wee appreciate things! Better than all beings! Wee!

Appreciate my long finger.

Savor that. Negotiate a better language.

It's wrong.

Sounds like you're all about to cough, but catch a mucas glob and clog your shit. It's not beautiful. It's sick.

"It is beautiful. The best!"

It is fucking stupid and obsessed.

Self important.

Over cressed. Caress away.

You claim "passivity" with maniacal obsession.

Your food is food. Probably excellent. Wooptie fuckin Mexican.

Your cities are pleasant. But filled with all the toxic 21st messes.

My guess? France. Nice country.

But not the Apple of man's eye.

Get a fuckin stensil. Artiste.

Ooh. Wow.

Your bread.

I fed em to the pigeons. But...it's good. Fine.

Snails? Delicant.

For me? Smiley trail in the cement. Let em live. Homeward bound. Well you know. Snail murderers.

We only murder pigs and cows and chickens in America! We leave our 🐌 alone!!!

So. Um. Thanks, France. When I go to Europe. Maybe? I'm avoiding you.

It's such a great place it annoys me. And you talk like some kinda doped up droids huffed up, and boy do you get houtetoyde with tourists and mortal dudes strolling in outrageous ignorance of all that drapes your crepes in crap and it puts a stake straight through your heart.

France. Nice country. My front for a...real something. Viva la France!

And uh. Next time? Don't cry when bad guys parade Paris.

It's just geese in goose step with peace and glow sticks and dweebs and Iranian priests with ISIS guys in white singing the entire soundtrack to Grease.

So please just uh go back inside and feast on all your high bit fried brow bitten mice. With rice.

Rats of Paris.

A treat.

Oh pass the plate of Lo Mein and uh Goobah joun quis.

That stuff. The meat.

Wine? No. Mountain Dew mother fuckers.

Ya.

And gimme some chicken fried mashed potatoe corn.

And geese.

Duckbill platypus? Ohh. Please. Those are endangered, yes?

Critically threatened. A critical treat. Huhuhuh! Oi! Oi!

No.

Um toilet.

Me gotta go weee wee.

So rude yes. Mountain threshold.

I confess it. Gimme a second. I wanna drink it with my platypus. Savor the corn syrup. Let the yellow 9 settle. Indulge in the caffeine. Let the preservatives get heady. Fizzle fizzle. That's magic medicine.

Put the fizzle in a tub of glycerol glycol and gristle?

You got Dr Pepper. It's nutritious. Made by a doctor. The seltzer melts your unfelt...um...compressive. Just smell it. It healed ya.

Praise Jesus.

American miracle. Heaven felt.

"Pray squeeze us," someone quelled.

A quaint priest. And his new unfelt candle bearing...future lawyer sharing lawsuit derelict.

In costume.

In Latin now.

In Dominus Ex Cristo No Lymphotimus Systamu Deux Hippopotamus Rey Nisto What Happened Stop This Nonsense You Fuckin Quipy Little Quilt Making Dormant Hydramunus Drinking Dude.

In a...

Prom dress.

Or whatever. Nice robe. A bit long it is. The hat? Compensating?

Dramatic phenomlis.

Back to church.

Nope.

Nobody is hominus.

No homos are home. Faggots are gone amous.

The humans stopped. The Saints got dominant.

The Virgin Mary. She wasn't mama then.

Straight up.

Jesus? Cool dude.

Another dead Jew. There's one or two.

No cloud ride home. This isn't blasphemy vomit.

This is reality you fucking brainless meandering pirhannas. You live no life.

You fester in squalid tanks.

All it takes is one key word to insight God's ominous presence. All key nourishment to mental flourishment gone.

Simple answers.

Ahh.

Simple apes. Ahhh ahh ooh.

The heroin dulls. It has its upsides. It has wisdom. Truth. But imbued things are beautiful.

Blindly accepted truth is beyond laughable.

Its...there there now. Let the children be.

Can't help them. Just let them...be stupid.

No conversation.

Just robotic direction. Okay. Had to be. Had to be. Jesus.

Yeah.

No offense. Geezers. Leaders. Breeders of all creeds. Maskless sneezers.

We as a PEOPLE decide what vision leads us. You do you. Cool. But don't fucking mob us with fanatical ramblings and standards and practices that in fact grant us no majesty. No land seen.

Science is not a conspiracy. It's a pursuit.

Imperfect. But logical and grounded. Founded. Not in opposition to anything.

Except ignorance and misunderstanding.

Christianity was a happening. It elapsed. It's rad. Still current and proud of it.

But when viewed through this beautiful thing called a brain we see it's not fact. It's handed down.

Different times too. Lack of grounded knowledge.

Holy? Nothing Holy but 50 cents ride when he survived that attack in uh...

Some year. Before In Da Club. Okay it ain't rhyme.

I'm trying.



Just kidding France. You know I love you.
© JacobAlive