Pnårp’s March, 1999 doodles & poodles

The stars scream at me, but why?

Conduced on March 7, 1999

Tags: dogs, screaming stars.

The stars scream at me, but why? I think about it. I see his face. The stars again. Once, when I was writing something about this, a large blue speck appeared on my monitor and I was forced to shoot the damned thing. Someone stole my car. I don’t hear the voices that much anymore. My monitor didn’t work the same after that. I had to go then, and get my lunch from a store. How could you possibly know that? But you don’t. Pick up the phone.

I see a large, spotted dog—a mastiff, or maybe a Doberman, or maybe even a chihuahua—but it doesn’t see me. Yay. Let them use their expertise on your next project. Somebody slipped those dogs into my pocket. I pressed the button, and the door suddenly exploded into 1,207,567,339 pieces of glass, wood, and steel.

The letter P is an amazingly asymmetrical letter. It is asymmetrical from any direction: left, right, top, bottom, east, west, north, south, forward, or backward. The letter has a certain blazing, prevaricating quality which makes it one of the most interesting letters to follow the letter H in any alphabet.

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I took the pile of animal feces out of my garage

Electrolyzed for March 14, 1999

Tags: Ambrose Burnside, feces, screaming stars, urine.

This week, Ambrose Burnside spoke to me. I found his horse, so he had to. He told me something about a pile of animal feces I supposedly had stashed in my closet. I had to tell him the truth, of course; I didn’t have any crap in my closet—I did have fifty-seven bottles of cat urine though. That was nice. I guess that was what he was talking about. Then a coup d’état took place and I left quickly.

Therefore, I took the pile of animal feces out of my garage (that’s where it really was), and fed them to the Man in the Moon. He liked them. I ate a small fruitcake made by a woman with the initials A.E.F. She appeared to be calm and collected.

There go the stars again…

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The seventeenth best day of my life

Dissipated before March 21, 1999

Tags: pi, screaming stars.

Today was the seventeenth best day of my life. I was sitting and eating something or other (I think it was some sort of snail or mollusk), and a QWERTY keyboard went rolling by on top of a six-legged puma. I sat and watched it from the rectangle until it turned and almost stopped. Then everything went away. The stars are still screaming at me like the ruins of the Acropolis. Sober up and try to listen to this. Yeah, that’s him, all right.

I found out Lycos loves me. The search engine. Earlier this week, I think that I saw the number pi floating by my window this morning. It had wings, two eyes, and a snout attached to its decimal point. I was really surprised—I’d never seen a transcendental, irrational number that could float before!

Then, of course, it was all over. Betelgeuse was still making some noise, which sounded like “Urrrrrrggghhhh…!” Get out of here. I made this.

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I continued my search for the Englebee Troobles

Posted for March 28, 1999

Tags: Englebee Troobles.

I was chased around a tree by a one-eyed zebra this Friday: one with fangs. It made this noise like “Mlaaw! Mlaaw! Mlaaaaaw!!” until I stopped and flipped over a drain pipe. Then it spun around and disappeared in a pile of scalpels and onions. I got my hand caught in the sink. It was pretty challenging. I bought a new hand, and a plastic cover for my computer mouse, for 99¢.

The clouds scream at me this Saturday, and I still don’t know why. They laugh and sneer at me, then at each other, then at me again. Damned clouds. They made my computer explode into seven or maybe nine pieces. (World War Seven had just began.) So I went out and found a brand new 80x86 lodged in the mouth of an octopus sitting on a park bench. I continued my search for the Englebee Troobles, but knew I wouldn’t find any without a consultant. One, two, three, four, five, six…

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