HNT: SWAMP PREACHER

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first, click on the magical swamp of life lessons for #3 in the series

THEN, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE FOR THE SERMON




do i want to die?
do i want to die?
do i want to die/
that's what the song keeps imploring of me
well, yes i don't

if only my priest had stood on the marble altar stage all those moons ago with a nice fuzzy guitar in hand to preach the gospel of jesus, i wouldn't have discarded all of the Myths now and would have remained blissfully unaware of the truth. music and freedom don't mix, it's a volatile gasoline combination which always leads back to negative zero

JESUS, the most powerful ending a song has had yet, JESUS

help me, yes, i need all the help i can get, i need an ungodly amount of help, so i much prefer the Dad to the Almighty Son, but beggars can't be choosers, unless you choose LIFE

wouldn't have spilled my soul and emptied my guts on the pews, that wouldn't have been my offering as the man in the nice sunday suit held that long-ass money pit on the stick, remember those things which collected each patron's 5 dollar bill in those envelopes? man, i'm just remembering that image now as i type: y'know, from afar, from the view of a Space Alien, that whole scene would have seemed funny, the dude reaching out that long metal pole up and down the people row, with the nice soft felt basket at the end of said pole collecting the dough, i always wanted to drink that altar wine, did it once when i was an altar boy, i was a naughty altar boy, an evil alcoholic altar boy, wasn't there an altar-boy comic book that came out not too long ago?

but i digress, no, i don't, no words can be said to be wasted, there is no digression, because each thought is precious, each word typed is memorable, each sentence laid is so important to the human race that the JESUS in Possum Kingdom has turned himself into a possum, or rather Sonic the Hedgehog, to SAVE US ALL, especially to save the last of the video-game nerd burnouts whom nobody cares about

be my angel
be my angel
would someone out there be my angel?
should i quit the blog? i'm bored and listless
should i quit my life/ there is no more altar wine to forget



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WAIT, OH SHIT! WASN'T FINISHED...

CLICK HERE AND DISCUSS







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HNT: ON THE CUSP OF A LISP

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first, click on the ruins (of my overhead tree view) for #2 in the series

THEN, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE



the war is over, you've lost
you have turned into the traitor you thought you would
getting the fuck out of dodge as the bombs rained down onto your tree fort
you leave your only family behind and race to the nearest clearing
there, a huge, unsurvivable jump into a large patch of tall woods and branches
you close your eyes to avoid any circumstance
you slowly raise your arm wings as the missiles are used now
you jump, bird
you jump, you did it, it's over
what do you see on the way down?
you fly, what to say?
bird




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SOCCER SERENADE

FIRST, CLICK HERE, RIGHT HERE




would this work on you? if no, then okay. if yes, wait for me to collect my five-lined music sheet paper and an apple, it's gonna be a long night of song creation.




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HNT: WE FUCK, WE LOVE, WE DUST

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first, click on watery Lady Parasol to dust off and open the new series


THEN, CLICK HERE WHETHER OR NOT YOU CAME TO THIS THROUGH THE VIDEO GAME


we meet, we meet finally, stranger bloggers taking a chance, i knocked on your door nervously, you answered sheepishly, we weren't wearing the right clothes, i step inside, you let me in like the vampire lore, we walk awkwardly to the kitchen table, we sip cold tea, we mumble about computer hacking and how hard it is to do the clicky function with hnt pictures, we stare into each others' eyes for the first time, the image and profile never match the real person, the real flesh, we ignore all the warning signs, we crave the danger somehow, we kiss without thinking about it, those are always the best kisses, we kiss the other cheek like jesus, we prepare, i kiss her neck, she kisses my unknown face, i've never been held like that before, we move our hands down and remove the clothes clumsily, i pretend to be a porn lothario and wipe away with my limp arms all of the clutter on the table, i take off the table cloth and lay her naked body down flat on this makeshift bed, i place a nearby rose in my mouth and position my small penis into her glorious clit, i spit the clit first to lubricate, in preparation to split the clit, then the fit becomes more manageable, i thrust as if my life depends on it, 'cause it does, she feigns pleasure, i can see it in her eyes, she smiles on the inside, that's what i catch, she can't fake these emotions for long, because we do care for each other, that's the difference, that's what separates this from a random booty call, she closes her eyes, but i still sense her inner feelings, we rock each others' worlds, for those are the only worlds which exist in this null universe, The Real World is as fake as they come, that's three minutes of glory, a new personal best record for me, she turns around quickly, but not before she shoots a wry smile straight into my orbitals, it's time for the sacred anal, the blessing every man yearns for, i enter her tattooed back door, oh this is truly glorious, the back and forth like wild bunnies, not cute rabbits, we are animals moaning and unconscious, we love each other so fucking hard, i feel it, i'm gonna cum, i shoot the strange white stuff into her waiting tongue, she swallows it all down as if a midnight snack of milk and cookies, that is special milk, a strange, goopy white that signals passion and decadence.

we love, i love her so much that i hold over her tiny head the parasol, to protect her from the rain that pours down on us as we take a leisurely boat ride down the middle of the lake, rain is meant to be admired from a dry spot and pondered over, and you can't do that when you're distracted from being constantly wet and battered with droplets.

we are dust now, it's thirty years later, we are two lovers who have each seen their end, we die far apart from our love moment, we lost touch decades ago, but the love is enough to bring us together for one last thought, we are now two streams of dust lifted by the strong winds over canyons and streams and yes, the lake, do we remember each other after all this time, does our love make us see each other, does it grant us eyes for one more moment to gaze into each others' souls, will i see my babe's face again? my beloved dust.



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ASS AT 0:13

FIRST, CLICK HERE AND FIND YOUR BEACH AT THE 13-SECOND MARK



who says 13 is an unlucky number on this day of bad luck and scary misfortune? so i had to combine the message of *find your beach* with this just happening to be the day of halloween, and i came up with PUMPKINS ON THE BEACH!!!

pretty, huh? not as pretty as the babe, but it works

not as awesome as my favorite band smashing pumpkins, but it rocks in its own way

if someone were to come up to you, slam a microphone in your face, y'know, one of those on-the-street reporters, and he told you to "FIND YOUR BEACH," how would you respond? would you slug him? would you run away with him?

speaking of things scary, a woman's fine ass, that can be intimidating, but i've learned over the years to simply worship and not try to dominate it. you cannot control the divine shape and the blissful concept of a lady's butt, you can only hope to count yourself among the blessed for having seen it and typed about it. and on that one special occasion, that one hot night, if she allows you to enter it, if she okays the opening of the back door, well, you can stand ERECT and proud that this sex will be the best, and the good will of this sex is a force that can conquer even the most hellish of ghouls and ghosts that this night will bring. hard, wet, sloppy fucking can defeat the Devil.





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HNT: DON'T GO TO THAT CREEPY HOUSE ON THE HILL FOR HALLOWEEN CANDY, THEY ONLY SERVE ROTTEN APPLES

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first, click on one type of rotten apple to carve out the series to death


THEN, CLICK HERE FOR ANOTHER TYPE OF ROTTEN APPLE




remember, my lad,
on this day of fright and screams,
that the scariest thing you could ever gaze upon
is your own reflection in the mirror.





HAPPY HALLOWEEN, MY BABIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!




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NATURE ALWAYS WINS OUT IN THE END

CLICK HERE AND THEN PONTIFICATE




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HNT: JUICED

*CLICKY CLICKY*




first, click on the best damn OJ this side of Mars for #3 in the series


THEN, CLICK HERE TO GET IN THE ORGY MOOD



some recent texting activity of mine:

boytoy1345: it's me again, i know that you love me, you're just too scared. i really think we can make this work, i'm good enough, i'm smart enough, and god dammit, YOU like me, so i matter. please return my calls, i've limited myself to calling you just 45 times a day now, i'm cutting back, like that liquid-only diet we were supposed to go on together up in the Andes. that was the trip that was gonna save us, gonna mask all of the inconsistencies, lies, and deep problems with our relationship. btw, i'm a girl, don't let my username fool you, see i want a boy toy, that's why i used that name, anyway, oh no, not that YOU'RE just a pretty boy toy to me, you're my everything. it's me, janna, your woman, your only woman

me: let me ride

therealnigerianprince87: this is not a scam, i repeat: this is not a scam. i am a REAL nigerian prince in desperate need of your desperate services. only you can help save my kingdom. now you may ask why i bothered to ask such a lowly, i mean salt-of-the-earth nobody like yourself for aid, well, i see something in you that even you don't. i see the fierce need to please others, to make something of yourself. all of the jocks at school beat you up, all of the babes never asked you out, but you are unique and special, that's what the Bible says, i'm assuming you're Christian, anyway, i believe in your Bible. so just do what we talked about, wire a million dollars into that swiss bank account number i gave you, and all will be well. if you don't, i'll REALLY spill the beans on your Obama and his nigerian roots and connections!!!

me: LET ME RIDE!!!

loseweightfeelgreat098: haven't gotten laid in a while? it's not your fault. well, it is kinda your fault, because you haven't bought the latest in a line of new SWEATER VESTS!!! sweater vests, baby, it's better than viagra, i know, you're sick of those enhancement spam emails, we over at Big's Department Store are, too. our sweater vests come in all styles and colors, black for your mood, white for your skin (assuming), gray for the atmosphere outside, yellow and sunny for a life you'll never have unless you buy a sweater vest: half-off, we're slashing prices, don't slash your wrists just yet...each vest comes with a free gallon of weight-loss powder (we're assuming you're fat)

me: LET ME RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDDDDDDDEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!






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SOMETHING ABOUT THIS VIGNETTE SEEMS VERY FAMILIAR TO ME...

...AND I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT MY DAILY WEARING OF SPORT-MASCOT COSTUMES AS I WALK DOWN THE STREET EVERY MORNING, CLICK HERE






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