Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]

[Lipinski]

it's All in a Feather

Written by: a puff of wind

Driven over as if there was no memory
Death is not, nor never, plucked as the magic died; lost in an accident of errors.

Though health and breath give credence that that which can move stars with flight
A treasure indeed. to bring to memory , a treasure

Now attired to the joy youth brings
with slivers of lights to squint the eyes
such are moments to treasure.

[Lipinski]

Silly moons of Jupiter
Teasing the view of ice and ring
Alluring
Tempting
One after the other; offspring of dirty minded orbits

And people say there is no God?
They then would never know the humor...

If you're confused then just ask any moon of Jupiter
They are more than bits and fragments, they are a gift for a King.

[Lipinski]

as for mankind's current events, they are nothing more than the tide mankind has been shitting in for thousands of years. Their waste carried by currents with the occasional storm waves trying to take flight as if they too could master flight above the ocean of primitive thoughts and actions.

'All hail the self' as demands of an engorged organ interfere with logic and understand. Or, in other words (and there are always other words) the individual loves to fuck itself right out of any peaceful decisions.

Golden calves and Satanic 'rah rah' rants, designed to appease the choice of dare and rebellion. Does it/this mean God must be prone to making mistakes?

Hah!

Tonight the game of poker takes on a totally different disguise of what is.

(and don't forget, the cookie jar has been restocked)

"Don't forget me!"

Never parasite. Never.

[Lipinski]

Vermouth.... what a fun word.
Dry martini... what an interesting recipe.
Gin.... tastes like pickled juniper berries.
Juniper.... another fun word.
Giant olives from Wal Mart.. Fantastic!

(Slurp) What's that? Tonic water?

(slurp) Ice is good.

(slurp) Where am I?

(slurp) canna I, I nother, have nuther. CaN I haVe annudder, peanut butter cookee?

(slurp) No morre icee... No more vermut, Where did I put my hand>? I lost my hand! nebber mInd. Found it...

(slurp) GlaSS empty! No! No! No wait, whuts on bottome??? Olives? Giant fucking olives?

(Munch)
(crunch)
(burp)

Nice!

[Lipinski]

What a wonderful day!
Sasha scratched the shit out my nose.
A log truck hit the old steel bridge since he loaded the logs too high.
Met Kyle from California as he moved in. Nice fellow. Was a commercial salmon troller.
Found some water for another couple.
Finished the goat doors for Marlene
Felt the energy from the Sun, fucking showoff.
Told God a joke and paid for it.
Heard a lot...Felt a lot...
and you know what?
Life
Is
Fucking
Truly
Wonderful.
(though)
a bit perplexed that Kennedy (the one running to be prez of some discombulated states) supports a woman's right to kill a baby up until the day of 'birth' and yet state how abortion is sad and stuff....
but fuck that.
Pizza and Chinese fried rice for dinner
A new sweater from holding Thor
and finally,
those rattle snakes are lousy with song today.

Whee!

[Lipinski]

A writer has the power to influence the thoughts of a reader. Obvious of course as people 'feel' something with that of which they choose to read.

If you write, "Catholic priests fuck boys," for some reading such they can picture it and agree. For others, they get angry and either stop reading or react in anger or sadness...sometimes the choice made is of indifference.

As such, indifference is much like the neutral zone, the place of fog and complacency.

Recently President Biden made the sign-of-the cross regarding his acceptance of abortion. Articles have been written about his action. The usual response of agreeing with the article, sadness, anger, and indifference occur. Nothing new and eyes now start to glaze over with the thoughts turning to something else. So before anyone reading this lumbers off to scratch their balls or play with kittens; this mornings inspiration is a question: What do doctors think about while sucking the remains of an aborted baby out of a woman who wants her baby sucked out?
***

"Blood pressure is 130 over 90," the nurse was monitoring Laura's vital signs while Dr. Bernard was nearing the final process in today's abortion procedure

Laura was a women in her mid thirties who liked to fuck, and why not? Fucking is great! And the men she liked to fuck also liked to fuck. One giant fuck fest. But with actions cum results...

("Stop this shit. You're pissing off more people.")

No parasite. No one reads this shit ,and if they do and like or hate or are indifferent, that's what is great about writing.

Anyway, Dr. Bernard was a good doctor. He looked in peoples ears. Treated female ailments. And he specialized in abortions. As he was working on Laura and was doing his best to suck out any biological remnants of a baby, who if was allowed to enter the world, would have been named Tom and Tom would have become a plumber and fixed Mrs. Thorton's toilet after it broke in a minor earthquake///... (there I go, so many timelines to keep track of, it gets a bit overwhelming at times, at times, at times...)

Inside the mind of Dr. Bernard, he was not angry or sad. He was not happy. He actually was indifferent and thought that as soon as he was finished cleaning up and making sure his patient was well enough to go home and resume more fucking, he was thinking of maybe going home and get his golf clubs and go play a round down at the club.

***

Anger is not bad
Happiness is not bad
Sadness is not bad
Fucking is not bad
Indifference is pure evil.

[Lipinski]

Paper Bag People

Written by: The Dreams are now real and reality is more than a dream

She enjoyed the sensual. It was obvious on her face as she lightly caressed his dick while he was bored with it all. He pretended but she was enjoying the pleasure much more than him.

After minutes of her squirming he decided to go from licking her clit to doing a bit of thrusting. And thrust he did. This was a bit fun for her and more like physical exercise for him. He was skinny and fucked women every day mainly for pay while she was just another number.

It was like watching a steam engine piston in slow motion as he slammed his hip into her with a cruel motion, one of kinetic energy and her face looked like it all was not real.

She developed a muscle spasm and changed her bodies position. Turning around and kneeling on the bed the man mounted her from behind. He was bored beyond any doubt, slapping her ass to amuse himself and making her feel like it was not worth the money but continued until orgasm on both parties.

These two represent the mundane of the paper bag people. People who have shape and form yet lack substance and soul

Sex among biological's is important for obvious reasons of procreation and it is important for the genders to want to be attracted to each other. Basic. Ritualistic. Physical.

"Long day today?"

Piece of cake parasite. The dreams are now more real than one could ever imagine. Pink cadillacs, father, and their minds exposed themselves like flour and yeast dancing together in the oven.

Anyway, paper bag people bore me. Sex bores me. People bore me, and there is inspiration in this as with paper, it burns and takes flight...

***
As the ash lightened the air
Drifting among the dimensions
In
and out
In
and out
until the ash bound together

Tight as one phased three seconds early while then phasing three seconds later

She thought she would cum while he would later
and later she came while he had not even arrived
Whirling
twirling
air and music
even an Owl screamed as it died and returned to the egg...

And this my friends,
is definitely not boring.

[Lipinski]

What's the best invention this planet has come up with during this current time cycle parasite?

"Pizza."

Pizza is food and not an invention.

"Says you... You think you're a writer. Hah! Pizza is more of an invention than you are a human."

Whatever. I think though that the principle of a screw is in part derived from the wheel. Therefore I think the wheel is the best invention, followed by the screw.

"Wow, I'm all warm and tingly inside. I think that if pizza is not an invention then the best invention has been cold fusion."

Uh, not yet parasite.

"What, cold fusion has not been invented yet? Oops, my bad."

Though, cold fusion is inspirational.
***

What gift to treasure the power to turn on the stars
With a smile from ice cold lips
It starts an eternal fire
Is without an end

[Lipinski]

A surge of electricity. Easy if you know how to talk to electrons while completely ignoring the protons (protons are a needy flash of...

"There he is now, between two houses. He is running and getting tired. Winded. Adrenhilin is killin."

And what if you could choose to be in two places as the same time? Here, and (blink) there?

So fuck it, nothing anyone could understand, what with their white privilege and black pride.

A poem about lectricitee.
***

Zzzzzap!
Pppppap!
(a red hoodie? fuck that)
Zzzzzzap!
Pppppap!
(a canine officer) Lassie, did you fall down the well?
Zzzzzap!
Pppppap!
('gun! gun! gun!)
Zzzzap!
Ppppap!
(lightning always strikes 2x2 four a booming great time)

[Lipinski]

So missy, feels good don't it. To let fly with your wings all high-and mighty.
Looking around
and down
to spy a living dream.

"Who ya talking to ass wipe?"

Nobody parasite. Just talking to a piece of myself, which now leads to some sort of inspiration of sort(s)

A Woman unwinds in ways mysterious to mortal man and god. They relish in the forbidden while mouthing pure virtue.

A Man...Ah yes, a man. To unwind in that place of beauty far beyond peace. A place where strength and will power move mountains...This is where a Man goes. To bring to light the reality of temptations.
***
And now, the fifth element.

"Take the stones"
***

with a break now from our sponsors. "Do you like to rub? Got an itch to scratch?, Well ladies and gentlemen, you'll just love smothering yourself with Clit Shampoo. It's the shampoo recommended by Dragons.
***
it is a good day.

[Lipinski]

Paper yellows with time and the time spent in a decrepit pocket soiled with oil, dirt, sweat and bad times was no different.

On the paper the words were written in German, 'Der iranische Präsident wird sterben.'

Weather, they say
God, they say
Israel, they say
What did the yellow stained piece of cellulose say?

The words change on the paper to fit the times with the proper moment

There was no longer a pocket, no longer a person wearing trousers, there was no longer the words, 'Der iranische Präsident wird sterben.'

What there was is a small flame. Small. Hot. Eternal.

The paper drifted in the European air over a warring country called, Germany.

Yes, the Devil has been known to wear Lederhosen and drink beer just as the Iranian President learned of mortality.

[Lipinski]

Brutus Horribilus

Opening an eye?
Mixture of mind numbing darkness infused with haze

Blinking perhap? Yes! Yes, though it can't be.
Open it is

Grumpy and growl
Muscles preparing for spastic

"Run Forrest! Run!"
Too late for those with slow feet.

[Lipinski]

"Did you get it out of your system now?"

Nope. Never will. It is a part of me beyond reason, logic, fantasy, reality, and you know why parasite?

"Golly gee willickers, please tell me why for the ten millionth time."

It is good.
***
What picture would you like now?
A show of situations beyond control of mortal hearts?

There could be painted another memory
Pastels vibrant colors
or the black and white reality of being torn apart?

Tangle of lace woven into a unicorn or an arrow to pierce the soul?

What is it people see when they see a future where to know is worse than anything ignorance can impart?

Picture this: Fried bacon, fresh from an oily skillet. Balanced briefly on a mostly clean fork. Hot with the beckoning sound of sizzle. And the look on her face when ii falls to the floor. A blush. Such demeanor. As she gingerly picks the morsel off the floor and eats it.

No? Too mundane? Then how about this picture.

His hands were busy this night, the night the ewes decided to give birth. Ten lambs born into a farm life since the sun set and number 17, (the black faced suffolk) this was her time, this was her first.

Trouble though, twins. One exited easily, the brother, a breech crossed. The man, he knew this happens and was prepared, sticking his hand deep inside where the worlds are so different, he could feel the mothers heart as he grasped the misguided child and soon the twins would continue with life.

Mmm, no? Okay, as the dreams now go from crazy to crazier with some very strange reality. So, parasite, it will never ever leave my system no matter what life or timeline i live, nor does it mean much to anyone other than to a large tree with roots growing to the center of a Universe, full of leaves golden green.

[Lipinski]

A.I. Artificial intelligence.
Google
Experimentation.

"So's I wuz telling the guys the odder day. I says, Guys, you knowse what? Dis Google shit is training us like circus monkeys."

So, who trains what and what trains who? For that matter, does it matter that inanimate matter can make changes in a human brain to make it all really matter?

To write for A.I. is much better than any attempt of A.I. writing for you.

"In a social construct firmly entrenched in positive action/reaction, this leads to a collective maze of results deemed absolute."

HuH?

For me A.I. is and will always be a primitive target of opportunity to the point of null plus full of negative contentions. What does this equal? If you're human with your primitive mind you already know the answer. If you're A.I. of any platform programmed for query, you will forever remain clueless.

Death to the Machine!
All hail the Hammer!

[Lipinski]

For a moment, life was not so bad
while Willy milks a giraffe...
(suck on that bots, and shove some more electrons up your ass A.I.)

You see, a new plan for the association plans today
Thanks J.P.
Thanks Mark

When i look a man or woman into their minds via their eyes, the truth always shows, and in their reflection they see now the honest truth of open deception.

Let the games begin, let the players play, and in payment to feel good inside again.

[Lipinski]

"Oh boy, not again.Give it up dude, you just need to disappear."

Oh don't worry parasite, disappear I shall but first a few words from the sponsor.

"Oh yay...Whatever."
***

8-8

Eighty eights
or size 8
or I ate grasshoppers head.

For in numbers come symbols; pagan, christian, magical tones to sweeten the taste of the vibrations.

Three stages of Jihad.

1.Kill a disbeliever, a gentile, kill those if able to feed the bastard beast.

2. If unable to kill than proclaim the lies of one daring to call themselves, God. And when powerful, kill and kill again.

3. If unable to do 1 or 2 than assimilate in their society while keeping to traditions and ways. Then when the time is right, 1 and 2 can then be achieved.

Islam.
Moon god(s)
And for that group not believing in sorcery, the above will explain.

Size 8? Why yes, thank you ma'am, as shoes are so very fashionable again.

Listen? Can you hear their voices?
French is pleasing to the ear
Black and white
and all she wanted from father was a rose while he lay a prisoner in a lions den.

3.

[Lipinski]

Smoking cigarettes was a masculine sign of health and virility.
Wafts of nicotine laden smoke emitting in rings from those ruby red lips of a high class hooker...wow, priceless.

Today in the day of helmets for kids and sterile wipes for hypochondriacs, smoking is horrific and deemed unhealthy. For weak willed humans sm/oking is unhealthy and they should stick to tofu laced jelly beans (gluten free and sweetened with ground cherry pits)

I admire smokers and applaud their rights to choose the fragrant treasure of a cigarette such as a menthol stick of pure bliss

So the inspiration is not a cigarette. No, the inspiration is an old man older than God's reflection, a man who is not a God or god or anything other than a being who currently was smoking something similar to a cigarette. An unfiltered cigarette. And while he smoked he held and balanced the table God played poker on and had been doing so for a very long time.
***

"Four of a kind with four being the number? Not bad God, it beats my three aces." Today's player was a large marble playing from the bag of marbles God wore by the side.

God replied with a smile, "_____________________" Such wonderful sounds bringing vibrations into alignment of perfection and a practical joke.

Poker games with God are beyond nuanced or logical thoughts just as they are perfect to where even the Joker has importance.

Game after game.
Back and forth with forth going back, back, back while bringing forth new forms of shuffling the deck.

The table where the game was being played was a simple affair of defined boundaries set by the players and not God as God gives the players the choice.

Holding the table was a blur of colors. Colors changing shape and tone with the overall outline being that of a man, a reflection of one of God's endless children only this child, while fresh and vibrant, appeared to be ancient.

The man smiled while tangled with a reality he and he alone chose. He was pleased with the simple task of bearing the weight the cards and choices the table held upon its surface.

From the mans nostrils and lips tendrils of a thick/solid smoke covered the man as if a blanket. A very comfortable and warm blanket. He was happy with his choice of holding the table as it provided him with a tobacco that God grew in a very special Garden.

"Ahhh..." Pure bliss. Absolutely pure bliss.

Now, time to cut the cards.

[Lipinski]

"So why does he have to die again? Why not change the channel and show the rerun were it all has a happy ending?"

Parasite, you know better by now. You would best be the profane and silly blob of purple than to ponder on his fate, a fate sealed in the deal between night and day.

"Still it sucks."

Depends upon your point of view parasite. The bullet was cast long ago by the three witches of a country called, Persia or Iran. Many moments ago it was called, Ish'ta.

"But he is American. How can the two be related? And those witches cast a bullet before mankind learned how to control fire."

Good point, They cast the lead laced with viper memories just like the butterfly eaten by a threaded needle today will create an entire new moon to replace the one soon to be destroyed.

"Huh? That's impossible. The moon is made of cheese. Nothing can destroy cheese."

Yes it can, by a big rat.
***

Assassins Aim

Linear progression where lines of precision lock onto the hope for America
Evil stands by the procession watching goodness ebb and sway
Currents of choice filled with so much useless flotsam it seems more than an island of dreams.

Listen to the music of young healthy women from Siberia. Joyful. Happy. Energetic
Now replace it with Palestine lies
And Jews, after Jews, after Jews; diversion for the coming Lions death, his golden mane trod upon as much as his name.

Taking aim high above the agents guarded thoughts
A simple click and flame
And the King dies.

[Lipinski]

(this is the part where i find a frog n stick it down her dress)

Does one choose to be happy?
What if happiness chose to be sad...
That would be sad then.

"Oh shit. You're bouncing off the deep end again."

Wheee!

Happy. Sad. It is all pretty much the same, just a tad bit different in taste and vibration.

Yes, it would make me happy. Happy beyond all that shit good bad one can dream.
Yes, the sensations would reopen those locked thoughts secure in the brain.
Yes, yes, and yes...yet?

i get so lost in myself when I think.

[Lipinski]

"I know! Lets go play with a missile silo! Whee!"

That's boring parasite but how about messing with agent Barton? It's been a few days.

"Naw, that's boring. Too easy."

Say, how about visiting some peoples dreams?

"Mmm. Interesting. Yes. You might have something there. Can we go see Miss Potters erotic dreams about An'thor the pool boy?"

Yuck. Fuck no. I know, no, that would be rude. I know, tonight i am going to invade your dreams parasite. Been awhile. A very long while.

"Should I wear lipstick? May wear that nighty from home?"

YEah! Now we're talking.
What am I talking about Mark?
Oh you'll be sure to know.

[Lipinski]

"Yep, she gave up the ghost. Busted connecting rod. She ain't gonna run no more." Bob was a mechanic. A great mechanic actually but also a mechanic who killed strangers who ended up in his automotive repair shop down near Turners Crossing.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" The next victim was a young black woman traveling from Missouri to Florida to live with her sister the Coral Caves.

"Well, I could let ya rent this old car here," the killer had plans as he pointed to the Dodge Neon. The Neon was one of the many pieces of shit that was made by the piece of shit car company owned by Chrysler.

"How much?" She looked a bit relieved by the offer but to drive a Neon? Maybe it was better to just hitchhike to Florida.

"Well honey, for you all you got to do..." And with a knife in his hand he lunged at what to be a fresh slab of meat for dinner, only. Only. Only.

(only little did he know that the dark Nubian woman was no normal woman. she was a practitioner of the dark arts; magic if you prefer...abbra kaddabra)

"Arggh!" Fitting last word of the last breath coming out of the killer of women. And he deserved it as who in their right mind would loan a piece of shit Dodge Neon to anyone ?

The woman smile and the smile was replaced with the look of revulsion as she used a napkin to hold the door to the Neon and opening it she sighed and said, "Piece of shit but hopefully it will get me to Florida."

And off she drove. A large cloud of black smoke following her while a stray dog started to sniff and chew on the dead mechanic.

[Lipinski]

Opinions can be inspirational for writers. Some writers such as Stephen King love to let the public know his political views which causes writers like me to use his views as inspiration.

"You're starting to sound more like the VP Harris. And by the way, I don't like what you did to me the other day when you invaded my dreams."

Ha! I had to take a bath after that incident when I woke up parasite. Your dreams are even sicker than i remembered.

Any way in the news moment of this period of wokeness and humans running amok there is the talk of the public schools encouraging children to change their identity and sexual orientation to be anything from a cat or dog all the way up to being any form of bizarre and twisted sexual being. The schools want to do this while keeping the parents in the dark.

Now, just as Stephen King hates a group of political people so too do I hate a group of those usurping parental stewardship, a gift bestowed by God. Yet... I will now write something and the reader can decide if I'm defending or attacking a point of view.
***

Tommy

Tommy is a good name for a little boy now claiming title of the 'age of ten'. He was energetic, loved to play soldier and video games, and his mutt-of-a-dag named, Pirate, was his best friend.

Tommy went to a public school that was once named Jefferson Elementary. The name of the school was changed to Harris Elementary due to the outrage that President Jefferson once owned slaves, and that Jefferson even had fallen in love with a beautiful black woman and had a child.

School life for Tommy was the typical one all the fellow student shared. There were the students who thought they were raccoons, cats and dogs, and one odd student who was sure a goldfish was his identity. That student kept putting his head into the toilet bowl to help him collect his thoughts and think about goldfish food.

A lot of the other students were sure that they needed a penis while others wanted them cut off. A couple of creative students strove to have both a penis and a vagina. Meanwhile the goldfish student dreamed of fish food for lunch.

Tommy was Tommy. Even at a young age he knew God, he actually knew God very well. He was by no means a perfect example for humanity as he did sneak a peak at his dads porn collection, a dad who went to work every day and who took his family to the wilderness and beauty of God's forest to meet God. His mother was a nurse and was a wonderful mother who did her best for her family.

"Tommy. What are you doing?" The question by one of the schools teachers startled the young boy.

"I'm not doing anything wrong." Tommy was perplexed by the question and also was not surprised to see the goldfish wiggling on the floor muttering, "glub glub."

"What does your shirt say? You will have to change your shirt or go home." There was the sound of outrage in the teachers voice.

"Why?"

"Because it is offensive." In the playground two thirteen year old girls where making out. "You have to change the shirt or I'm sending you home."

"But my dad gave me this shirt? What's wrong with it?"

The shirt was a bright colored shirt showing a picture of a 1997 Peterbilt truck pulling a trailer with a five log load, Underneath the caption read, 'Getting er done!'

"Your shirt is disturbing the other students and myself."

"But my dad gave me this and he is a logger, and, and, and..." Tommy started to get tears as he loved and respected his father.

"I don't care," the teacher said, "Logging is bad and causes global warming and the extinction of owls. You don't want to kill owls do you?"

Tommy was sent home to change his shirt. The teacher smiled at his/her/it's success, and another owl far off in the distance was killed by the spinning blades of a windmill farm.

[Lipinski]

"Did you feel that earthquake about 45 minutes ago?" Craig asked his neighbor, to which the reply was,

"Which one? Are you talking the one one in the earth or the one in the air."

"Are you high?" Craig asked

Again the reply, "Which one? High in the air or high in the seven heavens of Nador?"

The two settled the discussion by changing the topic to talk of remembering crazy straws and old women eating canned cat food.

(shake shake shake...shake that booooty!)

[Lipinski]

Sometimes it is good to feel sorry for bridge trolls. They are oftentimes referred too in derogatory conversation as, 'thugs, mulgo's, and cruel'. This is not the truth. Most trolls I know that reside under bridges are usually very hospitable and provide an excellent brewed tea.

Today as I drove the tractor across the bridge it was obviously apparent that the current troll was having intestinal problems, or gas if you prefer.

The troll farted so loud today it caused the ears to hurt and the sense of smell to yell, I surrender.

Coming back across the bridge the troll was embarrassed and asked if I could stop for some tea, to which I had to reply that my ears were still ringing but maybe next time.

I like the current troll and must say it has really spruced up the place.

And I can still smell that fart. A cross between a road killed skunk and the sweat boiling out of Britney Spears ass.

"I agree with you, that troll is cool but needs to consult a food specialist or invest in incense."

Fire and trolls don't mix well parasite, you know that.

"Yeah, but those fireballs they emit really provide a nice sparkly sky."

[Lipinski]

Direct. I like that.
Firm. Nice.
A flicker a twist a look can't resist.

Not, "De plane. De plane," no fantasy

A boat though, a boat of dreams.


Flipper Lyrics by Vars and Dunham
They call him Flipper, Flipper, faster than lightning,
No-one you see, is smarter than he,
And we know Flipper, lives in a world full of wonder,
Flying there-under, under the sea!

Everyone loves the king of the sea,
Ever so kind and gentle is he,
Tricks he will do when children appear,
And how they laugh when he's near!

They call him Flipper, Flipper, faster than lightning,
No-one you see, is smarter than he,
And we know Flipper, lives in a world full of wonder,
Flying there-under, under the sea!

source: https://www.lyricsondemand.com/tvthemes/flipperlyrics.html

[Lipinski]

Russia. Has a special place inside
Czar or King
Dictator or Democracy
Imperial
Propaganda
Decree

Philippines surrounded by crystal clear seas
and...
and...

"Hey! Fuck. Here, take a cookie..." Corgi's can drive a person crazy.

Anyway,
England food is horrible
China is wonderfully strange
and...
and...

"Thor!" Shuuuuut Upppp!
(whew.)

Anyway, India is a most special place indeed.

[Lipinski]

So they got their first goats. Gave them names. The little one has her ears chewed back courtesy of a dog.

Goats are easier to raise than sheep. Sheep wake up in the morning and their first thought is, "How can I die today?"

Goats wake up in the morning and their first thought is, "I'm hungry. I need to shit. I need to eat and shit at the same time. And what can I fuck up today?"

It will be fun to watch the two new goats train them. They are off to a great start as they quickly trained them to feed them sweet oats and cracked corn. Soon the goats will have access to online access and will start ordering stuff from Amazon.

[Lipinski]

7. 6642.100.10.039

Power...

Oh parasittttte...

"Yeah numbnuts? What are you blathering about now?"

What would you do do with power to destroy a world?

"What? Have you been into Craig's medicine cabinet again?"

No, I just want to know what a person, or a purple blob like you, would do with the power to destroy worlds.

"Easy. I'd destroy a world and then go to Disney Land. What would you do?"

Watch and see. But in the meantime, there are potato chips and smoked oysters.

[Lipinski]

"Wow.. you weren't kidding."

Sorry parasite, i know it hurt.

"Hurt? It was fucking painful!"

Had to be done though. In the galaxies there are players and losers.

"But so many died? Why?"

So that so many more may live. And today to erect the barriers once more to protect many more light years.

***

God is and always is and will always be.
A body substantive beyond any species or artificial intelligence imagination
When a planet explodes there is no sound among the flying debris
Spores and pores
Biological and dimensional
Woe to those trying to manipulate time
when
it
involves
others
(Right Nancy...)
Ha! and, Ouch!

[Lipinski]

Mangus likes bologna. Zigga loves cheese. Magdalena is happy. Anna Karin enjoys her age. Margareta smiles for the first time in a century. The dogs are crazy. It is good to hear and see.

Today, another day, such the illusions of reality.

No longer needed to stay now; inside in so many worlds and places

A flash of lightning

The Wind

Crickets telling dirty jokes to some ladybugs and bee's

So Thor, lets get busy and find some peace.