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Complements of THE HAUNTED HOUSE -- 415/941/7256
The Writings of the Mad Scribe -- Volume III
[Letters to the Mad Scribe may be sent via China Jones at flbd #63.]
LIKE DETERGENT (inspired by miss virgin herself (virgin in
that an elephant hasn't gotten to her.) (yet.)
I made it through the dirty dishes
Armed with my Brillo pads
Never knew how to remove baked beans
Until i found these ads
Now i say, what a day!
This thing is fantastically great
'cause it seems so real
Yet it doesn't really feel
Like skin peeling away
Like detergent
Suds for the very first time
Like detergent
And it only costs a dime
Well, It saves your pretty hands
And grease disappears just like that
Who cares if you have to rinse an hour
To remove crusty bacon fat
The only thing, that worries me
Is that the color is a sickening green
But as long as it works
I don't care if it burps
Just so it vomits in the can
Like detergent
Palmolive may soften your hands
Like detergent
But it doesn't consume small insects
blub blub blub blub blub
blub blub blub blub blub
blub blub blub blub blub
blub blub blub blub blub blub blub blub
So it's ugly; No big whirl
I don't care about Ivory girls
This thing is much nicer
It's also a meat slicer MM MM // SSSSSS
And it opens beer cans M M M M // S
M M M // SSSSSS
Like detergent M M // S
15 percent acid rain M M // SSSSSS
Like detergent
It can be polite or raise cain
Like detergent
Oh yes, Fred goo's like detergent
His brain is green because
of the mutant moss, of the mutant moss <--truly profound
That's a legit cause? incomprehensible
SMOOTH AND CREAMY BUTTER
Chorus:
Creamy butter
Tastes great on toast, believe me
It's like no other
Before you know it you'll hate margarine
Words:
(a slight madness block took place here; be insane and write
your own)
OPADEE YOU NEED A... TO SCREAM THE IMPOSSIBLE SCREAM
Opadee exciting lawn mower! To scream the impossible scream
Opadeeee This thing eats up To yell the impossible yell
Opadee the grass in ten To bust your beautiful larynx
Opa seconds flat! Sing for six hours straight
Rumma Rumma
(repeat)
Insanity isn't easy to come by these days...the creative urge is
gone...oh well, maybe tomorrow... . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Yoreksitovsky . . . . . . . .
Halleluiah Garbage tastes good My lamp broke Where's my wallet
Halleluiah
A Word from the Holy Agnostic
Do unto others and run.
Thy neighbor will be thy brother to collect from thy will.
And God said, "Let there be light." And the power company said,
"Give us six more days."
The Bible does not have a monopoly on wise sayings; it is quoted
more than any other source because its copyright has long ago
expired.
And God created man in his own image...while He was drunk.
Iconoclasts leave gods to be desired.
What the hell...Heaven just might exist.
Question: If Noah's ark carried two of every living thing, how
come he didn't catch pneupoliomeaslesmump feverpox?
And now for tender tasty beefy bits...
Fortified with 1 non-essential vitamins
Vitamin ? -.42177%
Worly Katumzel Losing the creative urge
Worly Katumzel I eat with my mouth open
My knee is in your dumbbell Reaching below is a sudden oops
Worly Katumzel Here's wishing that I was hoping
Beter Polit Losing the creative urge
Beter Polit Surgical glove on my knee
Season or know it Your pinkie has beneath a beach
Beter Polit Sawdust in the sky beneath the sea
Gumshee Cradowack Losing the creative urge
Gumshee Cradowack Pants on my head, glove on my ear
A pitchfork in your back Besides making waste for comment
Scan the desert for signs of air
Jerfud Nivone
Jerfud Nivone Lyre sounds like liar
Turkey Bouillon Perturbed is my nail polish
Jerfud Nivione But having it all is undisturbed
Losing the creative urge
Someone has nothing below me
Someone has nothing above me
I have nothing at all
Where did all the umbrellas go?
To the Vatican for mincing meat
Puzzle:
Change knick to knock in 27 steps (not 1, 27! no repeating
allowed)
Solution:
knick ugexz lllpl Neon Neon Neon
kneck ugixz lllll Neon Neon Neon
knert usixz fllll
onert asipz fnlll
ogert asipn fnlcl
igert aoipn fnlck
igerz loipn ynlck
igewz loipl ynock
ugewz llipl knock
Questions:
Is life worth living?
Is life worth dying for?
Is life worth living for?
Is life worth ten hedgehogs and a dead red whoopee cushion?
GUIDE TO MAD SCRIBEDOM aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee
All MS work created by the Mad Scribe himself and is guaranteed
to be 100% original.
All MS work may be reproduced anywhere except on other BBS's.
Simply give credit to M/S (only for popularization purposes)
on the parchment, magnetic media, or other form of recording
material.
HERE IS A LISTING OF THE M/S FILES
MS SUP1
MS CVR AND LIST
MS PHILO
MS VOCAB
MS WD FLWR
MS MAP
MS THE SPOT
MS XMAS
MS DESERT
MS SERIOUS!
MS ELP TORT
MS HOLIDAY
--> MAD SCRIBES NEED TO RETURN TO REALITY ONCE IN A WHILE TO <--
--> SATISFY THEIR PHYSICAL NEEDS <--
--> NUTRIENTS, CLOTHING, SHELTER <--
--> AND <--
--> CRAYONS <--
--> (SO I WRITE WITH ELECTRIC CRAYONS) <--
THEY ALSO NEED FELLOW SCRIBES
SEND ALL CURRENCY DONATIONS
(ALL PRECIOUS METALS AND STONES ACCEPTED)
ORIGINAL CONTRIBUTIONS (M/S WORK)
TO
WALLY PINCUSHION
M/S CRAYON FUND
AND
SCRIBE SEARCH
WHERE WE REACH OUT FOR THE SCRIBES
AND ASPHYXIATE THEM WITH DECAPITATED PENCIL SHAVINGS
C/O THIS BBS
INSANITY REIGNS SUPREME!
bloobie blop bloobie blop bloobie blop?
This genre of short story inspired by Terribly Concise Cultinski
(Junipero hates everyone who can write shorter essays than he)
(Junipero has decided to scratch the above statement since that
includes everyone except for maybe Charles Darwin)
The Spot (an exercise in creative rambling)
Once, on the shirt of a little boy, lived a spot. Now this spot,
whose name was Marvin Melvin Mervin Mulvin the Merciless Masher,
had no head or body. But everyone knows that spots have no
organs to speak of or to hear of or to write home about. Of
course, writing often also produces spots, especially when the
pen cartridge begins to leak. Leaky pen cartridges usually can
be attributed to the manufacturer. But let us not be so hasty to
place the blame on the poor white-haired old man who can barely
pay his three illegal alien employees the minimum wage. Of
course, we cannot play favorites since the old man forces each of
his illiterate employees with a big two-finger thick imitation
vinyl leather-lookalike whip made in Hong Kong to buy sixty-
thousand pens each so that he can break even and buy his fat
senile old wife with varicose veins, painted lips, and a moth-
eaten old fox fur around her bulging neck a triple scoop of
exploding half-ripe strawberry fudge caviar ice cream with kiwi
fruit flavored baby raccoon eyes and a slice of banana shipped by
first class air from the small Caribbean island of San Salvador
where old man Christopher stopped over to take a leak and trade
old cannonball cards with the natives. The old mass of putrid
and disgusting blue mucus covered with wrinkles and skin two
sizes too large is so uncoordinated that she probably will drop
one scoop of that ice cream into the gutter which is only cleaned
once a week by a quarter-blind moneylender from Northeastern
Luxembourg (the part with the mountain) who poked his eye out
while trying to keep his eye on his gold, silver, and various
denominations of currency from all seven seas that Sinbad crossed
in his famous fictional story that no one knows who wrote except
maybe Sinbad who we can't question because he is only a figment
of our limitless imagination which is only stopped by the sky
because our mind isn't traveling at a velocity fast enough to
escape the gravitation influence of the earth. Notice how I am
violating every single rule of English class. And so the scoop
of ice cream, gradually soaking into the ground and evaporating
into the troposphere, disappears from sight, only to reconstruct
itself on some poor little brat's shirt who simply been minding
his own business and harbors no grudges against anyone except for
his best friends Harvey Goldstein and Ogilvie Ali who threw his
only bike down a well which forced our young jerk in question,
Master Bzktchkfd, to clamber down into the well and drown since
he never learned how to swim from human beings, preferring
instead to watch young Porky Pig flail around helplessly in the
water and then raise three fingers in time to be caught by a
superhero swooping overhead at a speed exceeding any known to man
in those prehistoric (pre-Charlton Heston) days. Since our young
antihero just happens to fall into the waste water outlet of a
local detergent company, the spot is eliminated forever and I bid
you adieu to go and write your own neat little inspired
masterpieces to win cases of Turtle Wax and Rice-a-Roni.
CEILING FIXTURES
Ceiling fixtures are so fine
My friends think they're simply divine
There's one small question, that's all:
Why don't they put them on the wall?
Ceiling fixtures shining bright
If only my shoelace worked at night
Ceiling fixtures there and here
No one's got them in the ear
Old age creeping up behind the past
But ceiling fixtures will always last
Any electrical problem is not so true
If purple eggs are sometimes blue
Ceiling fixtures dangling low
My friends always like to sew
Ceiling fixtures under the door
Someone told me my hat is poor
TROMBONE IN THE REAR
Do the trombone in the rear
One drumstick for each ear
Violins strapped onto each leg
And a tuba covering all of my head
NO LOST UMBRELLAS TODAY
No lost umbrellas
I want to see no lost umbrellas
If you and me are to be happy
No lost umbrellas today
HIPPO HIPPO
Hippo hippo have a poo
Having one daily is good for you
Otherwise the manure will mass up inside
And one day you will go
POP!
And you will spray manure and your intestines outside
All over your hippo friends
Who will not like you anymore
Although you would be dead
And will not deliver your eulogy
Or come to your funeral
Or lower your casket into the grave
Then the pieces of your body
Would lie all around rotting
Making a terrible smell
And revolting the janitor
So please hippo take your poo
Good for me and good for you
And while I'm here reminding you
I might as well have one too
AGNOSTIC CITY (This poem is pretty heavy, so please skip it if
you are easily offended. None of the content
reflects my own personal opinion (I used the
words because they rhyme))
Once I was a studious disciple
Studying every day by candlelight
Then my priest had six affairs
When the pope came he started a fight
Even if the Church had several gods
I wouldn't worship the whole lot
Agnostic city, can't you see
If God exists, he sure is an S.O.B.
We could condemn until the dawn
Burning crosses on the lawn
Agnostic city, can't you see
People are sick of the Trinity
Every time I go over there
Reverend Priest gives me a hard time
I can't remember the words to the prayer
Or even drink that cheap red wine
Fall asleep during Sunday school
In the Bible everyone's a fool
Agnostic city, I never pray
That I'll become a C.P.A.
Remember the page Cain was on
Sing those stupid little songs
Agnostic city, churches are old
Now they're even using fake gold
(Continue as desired)
GOO
Goo
Goo goo goo
Goo, goo goo, goo goo, goo
Ga
Ga ga, ga
Ga ga ga, ga, ga ga, ga
Gee
Gee, gee
Gee gee gee gee, gee, gee
STICKS ON HIS BALD HEAD
I play his pink bald head
With two sticks of lead
Before I finish every piece
He has lost several teeth
Then again I could use his feet
But they just don't have enough meat