Pnårp’s February, 2005 brewing & stewing

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Bamboozled on February 6, 2005

Tags: feet, Alyssa Milano, dogs, Englebee Troobles.

This is a gross violation of my civil rights. The cricket’s, too. All crickets. All frogs. Each and every member of the Intel revolutionary hamburger plant!!

Tell me where she is. 100% guaranteed. We’ve searched this place; there’s nothing here but a can of sardines and a fisher cannery. The Circassians were massing on the network, thinking to thwart my finding of the Englebee Troobles…! I had to act! I picked up a speaker and smashed a dog in the brains with it, hardly wounding the dog. No Troobles fell from its ears, however. Wow, I have a wallabee in here. An Australian marsupial. Like a spring-tailed dog or a Sprint salesman, or Alyssa Milano’s feet. “All right!!!!!”

Must… keep… searching…

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Briefcase! Gatorade!!

Fudged up against February 13, 2005

Tags: Alyssa Milano, James Knox Polk, Englebee Troobles.

“Fellow citizens, without solicitation on my part, I have been chosen by the free and voluntary suffrages of my countrymen to the most honorable and most responsible office on earth. I am deeply impressed with gratitude for the confidence reposed in me. Honored with this distinguished consideration at an earlier period of life than any of my predecessors, I can not disguise the diffidence with which I am about to enter on the discharge of my official duties…”

I listened intently to James Knox Polk’s inaugural address, for the seventeenth time this week. It told me nothing about where the Troobles were. I wondered what he meant by his “responsible office.” I wondered if he were talking about the popsicle factory on Main Street in Rhode Island, or the lipstick production plant in Saugus, Michigan. I also wondered if Saugus was even in Michigan, or if it was in Oregon, or Guam. Where is my MP3 player, with the doughnuts and Alyssa Milano? Briefcase!!

Guam is a nice place to live. James Knox Polk said so in 1978.

I decided that existing among the stars, even using the quasars and pulsars, was useless; I would not find any Englebee Troobles there. Down to Earth I returned. Something smelled like a burned Pikachu as I reentered the world. Why did I have a box on my face? Gatorade!!!

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Alyssa Milano still has very cute feet

Reeducated on February 20, 2005

Tags: feet, Alyssa Milano, Englebee Troobles, pi, Mister Wilson, Samuel Dreckers.

Alyssa Milano still has very cute feet. And I have to find the Englebee Troobles. They do exist. They do, they do, and the letter G is smiling at me… sneering, smirking, laughing at me…

I found an MP3 of the song “Dishwasher Synergy” by Three Fat Fish. Listening to the acoustics in the music, I almost thought that I could hear the sound of an Englebee Trooble yapping and sneezing in the background. It sounded like a bass guitar. But I am sure it was a passée Englebee Trooble, yapping and yelping, sneezing and wheezing.

No. No, no. No… No!! Stay tuned for scenes from next week, when I go insane, and eat the keyboard, Windows key and all! I am the salt shaker of the universe, innate, holy, centric, centered, phallocentric, and bottled. My website smells like tuna. That rolling pi came by today, rolling, of course, and spherically said to me, “Alyssa Milano still has very cute feet.”

I agreed, and it went on its way. I then saw my text editor, NOTEPAD.EXE, sitting under a tree, getting hit in the head with falling apples and pears. I wondered if my new neighbor, Samuel Dreckers (poor Mr. Wilson!), knew anything about the Englebee Troobles.

I decided next week, I would hop through his window upside-down and ask him.

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Contemplating the Spice Girls

Best if sold by February 27, 2005

Tags: Spice Girls, alabaster, death, Englebee Troobles, Samuel Dreckers.

I had to find the Englebee Troobles, soon, or my head would surely roll away from me casually, skipping and bouncing down the street as everyone laughed at me. General Patton would laugh. So would Ford Motor Company, and the Alaska beef commissioner. I thought, Maybe there is a Trooble nest under my soundcard. I decided to look, and nearly killed myself twenty-three times as I tried to reattach the firm joystick to the alabaster opium derivative. The coffee knew the answer, and edited it in doing so, for the non sequitur squared and then cubed itself.

On Friday, I remembered the nineteenth triad, the quintuple mile of the paramount adamancy, so I sat down to eat my lunch of mylar and polymer stew as I contemplated the Spice Girls. There’s no proof of its reliability with autistic children.

As I continued thinking about the Spice Girls, I remembered that I would plan to soon, and very ventricularly soon, talk to my neighbor Samuel Dreckers about the elusive and quirky Englebee Troobles. (It didn’t exactly make me want to jump up and cheer, but I had to.) I determined that I would, in fact, steaming elephants and all, speak with my neighbor Dreckers next week.

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