A Stinky Contraption

 The shoes were a stinky contraption of leather, rubber and canvas held together by man made threads. The logo design was no longer important because they just hung on the wire. On the wire the shoes told everybody that a bad man lived here and to stay away.

Everyday they were a constant reminder to him that he let a banger take his shoes. Shoes his daddy bought for him, just before he left. His momma was so mad when he came home that she beat him.

 And now he hides under the porch smoking pot barefooted in the mud.

White trash zombies.

 There was a ruckus coming from the single wide trailer next door. Edgar said, “Shit Betty they're at it again.”

 “Yeah? Well don't talk to me abut it, I am busy, Jerry's on!”

  Edgar mumbled something as he looked out the window at the single next door.  He could see the shadows of movement and the noise was just getting worse.

 This kind of crap happens when the checks get in. The whole park gets loud on the 1st and 15th of every month.

 Everybody gets liquored up and gets rowdy.

But the zombies next door just creped him out.

War bunnies

 They were tired of the ridicule. They were tired of the explotation.

 To not look conspicuous in the beginning they just gathered in small groups.

 But their best brains had given them a number. A population count that would assure their victory and they had reached it.

 It was time to fight, it was time for war.

 The hares, rabbits and bunnies armed themselves and gathered. They were going to take over the world.

 They gathered outside the edge of a small town on the back forty of Mr. Wilsons farm.

They attacked.

 Where were you when the revolution started?

Henry Rollins Drabble

Henry Rollins rolled his 5 foot 2 frame out of bed. He put his slippers on and shuffled into the bathroom.

 He took the cap off the meticulously rolled tube of paste and squirted some on the wet bristles. He scrubbed in a circular motion on each tooth. Then he scrubbed his tongue. He gagged, but he finished. Looking in the mirror he ran his tongue over his front teeth and smiled his money smile.  Then he opened and closed his mouth making that smacking sound. He thought, “I just hate the film that the ball-gag leaves on my tongue.”

Crackers and porn.

 The angry gods sat at the table made from the bones and skin of humans.

 They rallied and railed on the loss of devotees. What can we do? They just sit there looking at "internet porn".

 The succubus quietly brought in cheeses from all regions.

 Bloggers! Harrumphed another one.

 Yahweh stood and raised a hand. "I believe it's time for a complete reinstall."

 “Of course you would” said Zeus “you always like that. But seriously who here has the time for such a project.”

 “I do. said Satan.

 Then let Satan do it and let us see what he gets.

You gonna let’em call you that?

“That’ll be seven sixty seven buddy.” Said the clerk.

The guy behind me said. "Buddy? Last I heard a buddy was a bump on a dog's ass. Don’t let him call you that?"

He was right. No Mother Fucken human should be allowed to call anybody "buddy" that’s just too disrespectful to let slide. So I took my Slurpee and beef jerky out to my car and got my gun. I went back in and shot the bastard in the knee.

 I told him, while he was crying like a little girl, that he better think about calling people names.