Pnårp’s August, 1999 scenery & greenery
| Placated since August 1, 1999 |
| Pondered upon August 8, 1999 |
| Reinstated August 15, 1999 |
| Fondled August 22, 1999 |
| Given to my daughter on August 29, 1999 |
I love AOL
Placated since August 1, 1999
Tags: death, smurfs, Mister Ollanthorpe.
I have an AOL account. I use it every day. I use it every hour. I use it almost every minute. I love AOL. They say it stands for “America Online”, but I do not believe them. I cannot. I went riding on an accretion disk from Russia.
Mister Ollanthorpe von Sträsmussenbörg, from southern Moravia, used to use AOL. He used CompuServ also, which I think was somewhat responsible for his recent death. I regurgitated a pile of cats and hats, each one wrapped in grapevines, and the colors made me spin and dance.
This is how the world ends,
This is how the world ends,
This is how the world ends,
Not with a smurf but with an electrocardiogram.
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The Englebee Troobles
Pondered upon August 8, 1999
Tags: corn, Englebee Troobles, fez, Fluffernutter, rat-fighting contest, Sicily, Mister Ollanthorpe.
I remembered the Englebee Troobles this week. I was supposed to find them. So I decided that I would go and look for them. I had no idea what an Englebee Trooble even was, or what it looked like, or what kind of noise it made when you accidentally crushed it under your boot, but I was determined to find them nonetheless. So, on Tuesday morning without delay, I donned my leisure suit and bolo tie, put my burnt-umber fez on (the one I won in a Sicilian rat-fighting contest), and gathered all the pennies I could. After filling my pockets with S’mores, Fluffernutter and peanut butter, I was off!
My good friend, Mister Ollanthorpe von Sträsmussenbörg, from southern Moravia, used to tell stories about his hunts for the Englebee Troobles. A dog-fish would’ve helped, but I had none. My first stop was in Las Vegas, Nevada. I exchanged all my pennies for some corned beef and Deutsch pfennigs (which I would later use to procure some potholders). Then, I heard from a man named José Vargas de las Joyas Matemáticas that an Englebee Trooble had been seen in a small alley in İstanbul.
I headed to İstanbul on Wednesday, first stopping in Crete, Lemnos, Ithaka, Macedonia, Kosovo, Smolensk, and Islamabad. In Crete I picked up some cretins, then I traded one for a new shoe and fez in Lemnos, and the two others for a pack of cigarettes in Ithaka. I used 215 pfennigs to buy my way to Kosovo, by way of Macedonia, then ran to Smolensk and bounced over to Islamabad to pick up a yak and a yurt.
I counted out some more pfennigs and bribed the local magistrate to tell me anything he knew about Englebee Troobles. He knew nothing, but said he’d once seen a photograph of a parsimonious Czarjoonibee Trooble in 1956.
After a quick explosion and re-integration, I waddled over to the bus station waiting for a train to southern Moravia. Maybe someone else from there, other than Mister Ollanthorpe von Sträsmussenbörg, would know about the Englebee Troobles. I had to find them. Or plonk myself.
“Trooble! Trooble!!” a camel suddenly squawked behind me. I ran away fast, intent on finding one, before the camel ate my fez and bolo tie. As of this Sunday, the search continues…
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The talking, squawking camel
Reinstated August 15, 1999
Tags: Englebee Troobles, screaming stars.
Continuing my never-ending search for the Englebee Troobles, I happened upon the city of Cairo, in Egypt. The camel told me to go there. The talking, squawking camel. I looked upon the city’s famous palettes of pure gold, coated with mud and dirt of a thousand years past, all before me and everyone else.
I became ill, after trying to sleep outdoors, alone with the noise of those incessant screaming stars. I puked up my guts, including much of my pancreas, I think. A star named Bellatrix, damned warrioress, screamed the loudest—it seems this was the brightest star from the point of view of the golden-paletted city of Cairo.
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No kind of Trooble infatuates anyone
Fondled August 22, 1999
Tags: Afghanistan, death, Englebee Troobles, fez.
Tuesday, another man wearing a fez told me that an Englebee Trooble had once infatuated him. I of course had to kill him, for he was a liar: No kind of Trooble infatuates anyone, let alone a man wearing a fez. I left Egypt then, after being maddened by the existence of their so-called “Old Kingdom,” and headed for Afghanistan. That country, which I knew was in the wrong direction, may have contained some more information about the Englebee Troobles.
“¿Qué es un Englebee Trooble?” someone asked me as I stepped off the yak caravan at the airport, in Afghanistan. This made no sense. An Afghan speaking Spanish? I punched him, then myself, then the lead yak in the caravan, then continued on my way.
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It gets hot in Afghanistani prisons
Given to my daughter on August 29, 1999
Tags: Afghanistan, Englebee Troobles, screaming stars.
You stay with me and shut up. Doo, doo, ba-doo, bee doo. I am writing this from prison. I got thrown in prison after punching the yak. Hypercube? The Spanish Afghan wasn’t too happy about being punched either.
Someone was knitting in the next cell over. A man with two arms, two hands, ten fingers, and a painting by Caravaggio in his cell, was knitting. How fantastic. I thought it was. Then I seemed to pass out or something, from the heat. It gets hot in Afghanistani prisons.
I hope I can continue writing, and continue my search for the Englebee Troobles. A hypercube would help, as would another yak caravan. Maybe the screaming stars would bounce around in my cell, or something, and help me out of here. Blow the door. I decided to hang myself by my tongue and start screaming like an idiot until they would release me.
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