beneath soggy stars tucked away miles below the earths terra firma, therein rests the sphere of insanity, haunted by the ghost of Buddy Hacketts saturated arm, who uses his factory fresh psychedelic papah’ towels to clean up the excess diet pepsi and blueberry snop to the smashed disco hit “Get Down With the Genie”

 

within the amphitheater, an elderly brotherhood of ancient alcoholic superheroes, preposterous wizards, neurotic otherworldly savants, and undulating majestic lunatics preside over a hovering, pulsing, gleaming, fibonaccical, self-recursioning sided die vaguely comparable to OSErr, 299458

 

absorbed in a cosmic reunion they lurch around the gelatinous orb like paroxysmal crabs, shooting spores from their anuses, they are amphibious evolutionary calamities, jumper cabled to atomic car batteries, synergistic with Ghost Mutts wool hat, fastened to Apache Chiefs nipples,behold as the hannah barbarians engage in their obnoxiousness orgy twitching like incestuous attention deficit druids

 

betrothed in ceaseless dissertations and dissections of the folklore of Pispania, rigatoni, and the cult of melted ear children, a veritable vomitorium of supernatural buffoonery and eloquent nonsense, a gurgling collage of incoherent “and I’s!”, “erdoh’s!” and “kakoooon’s!” all eschewed and chewed and spewed into one another’s official Keith Van Voax/Destephano commemorative dune buggy lunchbox, for later inspection by Mrs. Fine

 

quacks of glee reverberate from one non-existent  corner of the bubble to the other, whilst the numinous squadron views video documentation of their bygone, ghoulish simian antics collected by Green Yamo, resulting in the authentic versions of (x)themselves to marinate, season, and consume the transposed, abstract, fictionalized versions of (y)their duplicate*…and pineapple yogurt

 

engaged in jerky, festive ephemeral dances, that rival the moves of Fred “Rerun” Berry, in exaltation of all that is perplexing, irrational, enigmatical and obscene, this clan of camarilla are the ugliest of imbeciles, and the most stunning of geniuses, who are better than you as they (disguised as pig-monsters and tangled up in marionettes) drive a luminous radioactive 1977 Monte Carlo through every fissure in space and time, proving once again that this shirt is orange

 

very simply vey and huma

 

*recipe can be obtained through Edible Ghost Enterprises, extension #299458.1, ask for Faub