Nechklex Pomez

I like writing down words and making big sentences just to make them when I don't know where they're going and I don't necessarily know how they started but we're always just living in the present and I guess that's deep.

If I wrapped up the whole world in a peanut's shell, then I guess I would say that the world is a giant eggo and there's that sly bastard kid who always snatches the fucking thing from me, 'cause I'm this persnickety old man and I can never get my hands on one. And if you think about that really really hard, and I mean just sit there for a long time thinking about it, like for hours not eating or drinking or even masturbating, then you probably still won't figure it out. I bet you $5 you won't.

A priest, a minister, a rabbi, and God walked into a bar, and the priest and rabbi were good to go with just wine, but the minister ordered this really fruity girl drink, and God ordered a vodka-7 with a twist of lime. Well, anyway, God ended up getting really drunk and passing out in an old ashtray, but not before hitting on all the waitresses and impregnating a few of them.

The 3 sexiest men in the world challenged me to a competition tonight, to see if I compared. The game was to drink a lot of nail polish remover and polka until we dropped. They drank the stuff and died on the spot. So I don't know if I'm a wimp for not joining, or the only sexy man left.

A lot of poets are into living through a bottle of whiskey, but if I had my choice, I think I'd take a bottle of aspirin instead.

I think it would be great if everyone's clothes were made out of velcro, because then, when I go to punk shows, it would take me days to get out of the mosh pit.

I was listening to this old jazz record backwards, right? And then, all of the sudden, I heard Billy Dee Williams come on and tell me to do my taxes. I don't know what he meant, though, because I live in a refrigerator box.

No matter how good a thought is, it still sounds really stupid if you try to explain it to someone when your tongue's frozen to a pole.

A man walks into a bar, orders a tuna salad. Bartender says "All we got's beer"; man says "Gimme my fuckin tuna salad!"; Bartender shoots him in the head.

I saw this one guy on a streetcorner selling God, as much as you could afford. I didn't buy any, though. I don't think I can afford God.

In the Far Off Land of Tonsetia, just a bit north of Paducah, there grows an enchanted lilac which will grant any user the power to transform himself into the dairy product of his choice. The down side, however, is that dairy products really aren't that smart, so nobody has ever transformed himself back.

The average human has 5 senses, and has 5 fingers to a hand, right? He also has 5 teeth, wears size 5 shoes, and has spent 5 years in prison. Now if you don't see a connection, man, then shoot yourself now, 'cause shit that scary only happens in Nostradamus and stuff.

Last night I started coughing, and I kept coughing for about five minutes, until finally I coughed up this 2" man. I think he got in my mouth some time when I was passed out. Well, anyway, I cough this guy up, and he looks up at me, and he says, "Great party, man." So I put him back in my mouth and made sure to chew this time.

There are only two actual types of weather in Cape Girardeau, there's wind and there's air conditioning. And if you live in the region around Towers, then you get both at the same time or nothing at all. It's got the meteorologists in a big mess, man. They can't figure it out. The guy on Fox hanged himself last weekend. It's a real tragedy. But, you know, they offered a full deli-tray at his wake, so for once I was lucky to live here.

You can tell me I'm crazy, and they tell me that a lot, but whenever I close my eyes, I see this old black lady named Edna. And she looks at me, and she says, "Knock knock!" And I say "Who's There?" And every time, she says "Sheepdog." And I say "Sheepdog who?" And about then is when people start looking at me funny, because she lives under my eyelids, right? And she says, "Sheepdog cold turkey jive slap hard drive," and then does this little dance. It's a dumb dance, but she doesn't have a lot of room in there, you know?

I was at Wal-Mart, by myself in the pharmacy section, and I saw this brand new pregnancy test, where all you had to do was lick the box, and in 5 minutes, it gave you a 97% reliable answer. Don't go there to get one until they get a restock, though, because, I mean, 97% is good, but I had to be sure, so I licked them all. It isn't shoplifting; I didn't take them from the store. I just sat in the middle of the aisle and licked away.

I was in the park the other night, minding my own business, when a giant platypus dropped out of the sky real fast and landed softly. It opened its mouth and 2 small sausages walked out. They said they were from the planet Nitrous, and that I'd met them before. Then they asked if I knew where they could get a bass guitar, so I told them to jump in my pocket and I'd take them there. I took them to my parent's house, and put them in the fridge, and sho' nuff, Mom cooked them the next morning. I slept through breakfast, and lunch & dinner too, but the point is that now my parents have superpowers, and all I got was a lousy platypus.

I was sitting on my cot with a big bottle of Thing in my hand, nechklexing like a motherfucker, and I suddenly realized that I was in Spain. I don't know how I managed to get my bed there, but there I was, in the middle of the street, blocking traffic. Everybody was yelling at me in Spanish so, like any good American, I told them they'd better learn my language if they wanted to communicate. I had real trouble sleeping though; some semi kept honking for me to move.

A girl told me today that I smell like Aunt Jamima. I asked her, really, how is your aunt doing? and she said, making pancakes. and I said, why aren't there any quotation marks? and she said, I don't know; you're the one typing. She has a real mouth on her, that girl. No dentures or anything.

these added april 26, 1997

It occurred to me, after much introspection, that this sentence wasn't going anywhere. I thought about it really hard for quite a long time, but finally I had to give in and finish the sentence without a point. I would like to apologize to anyone I let down and promise that my next sentence will eventually get somewhere, even if that means it has to be really long.

When I was young, my mother always told me to be sure to put potatoes in my shoes before going to bed or else the Shoebiters would kidnap me while I was asleep. As you can imagine, this made me grow up with a mortal fear of the Shoebiters. In fact, it wasn't until a few years ago that I learned that Mom was just a figment of my imagination and I'd really been living in the Shoebiter slave camp since birth.

My toes started glowing the other day so I went to see a specialist. He told me I was metamorphosing into the next evolutionary phase and prescribed me some antibiotics to prevent infection. Then he asked for my autograph (what a nutty guy!)

Once upon a crime there died a hooligan named Alistair Pidgenklerod, who illegally committed suicide one night. He was caught, taken to court, convicted (when on the stand he would not even respond to questioning) and sentenced to the chair. Now he must wait through the lengthy appeals process.

There is a place, a special place, deep inside the hearts of good little boys and girls, far withdrawn from the cruel world of adults, and in that place dwell the spritles. The spritles are a humble folk, peace-loving and primitive, but they sure know how to gossip. Why, just the other day I was talking to some of them, helping them gather bits of ventricle to make into stew, and they were telling all sorts of things about 3-headed love-mistresses and spaghetti fetishes when we were rudely interrupted by an enormous scalpel. Apparently some 6-year-old had gone into cardiac arrest (fuckin' brat! I told him not to drink that lard, who knows where it had been?) and when the doctors went in for a bypass they slipped and nearly demolished an entire spritle village. Thankfully, the spritles got him for malpractice.

Zakkleflat, lord of the Umpenschnickers, gazed down on his village one day and was not glad with what he saw. There were young naked women everywhere, so many in fact that they'd get in the way of the Umpenschnicker police while they were trying to carry out their duties. For example, one Umpenschnicker sheriff found, much to his dismay, that he could not even dunk his kruller in his coffee for there were 3 (count 'em, 3) naked women in the way. Another cop, a traffic cop, discovered that he couldn't even pull over black motorists in nice cars due to the nude nubiles who would clog traffic and allow for the culprits' getaway. So what did Zakkleflat, lord of the Umpenschnickers, do? He killed himself. There was no other option.

My client, you understand, is willing to do anything necessary to get this unpleasant obstacle out of the way. Believe me, if one could simply blink and the thing would be dead, I wouldn't be talking to you. Now, considering everything he's done for you: the job, the diamond-plated hairpeice, the lithium for your rituals, he figures you know that you have to help him. Refusal to do so will certainly alter his opinion of you, and, personally here, I have to say that's not a good idea. I remember the last to lose his favor. Damn, I didn't know you could do that with emergency flares. So, basically, I don't care how many wagons you lose, just kill that ashray!

It is common practice among birth control addicts to eat entire, elaborate meals made out of nothing but reconstituted birth control pills (with a few spices, of course). A friend of mine, for example, is a master chef in this area; she makes a mean rigatoni in a sauce you'd swear was marinara, as well as a killer pseudo-chicken pot pie (with real pot, and it's not even crunchy!) I can't eat her cooking too often, though, 'cause there's no protein in the pill, and if my don't get my regular protein fix I get the shakes real bad.

I once built a VCR that could travel through time, so you could send it back to record the shows you forgot to record while they were on. Unfortunately, I lost it, because I forgot that I wasn't living here in the '70s, and I guess the guy who lived here then must have stolen it.

I was thrift-shopping the other day and I came across a somewhat used park. The price was right -- $20 -- so I bought it and put it my living room. I need to get some oil for the swingsets, and I don't have the fountain hooked up yet, but you're welcome to come over for a picnic sometime by the pond. Just remember to padlock your picnic basket so the raccoons can't get it.