Hyphen

Now, I kind of wish I had waited until later to mention the exorcism. Already, the crowd is on edge, looking to me for an explanation. O God, I've gone and embarrassed myself. How would I continue to tell them that their dear mayor has recently been exorcised? Looking at their stares and open mouths, all I can think to do is smile. I almost laughed, a bit. Naturally, I had to put on the front of a complete gentleman at this point. This crowd, the people gawking at me in this gala, actually ended up being the several circles of Hell. I couldn't let that bother me. There had actually been evil in their little town! I straightened my tie, flattened my hair, and scooted up to the microphone. "He's fine, now. For all we know, he just had a head cold". Blasphemy, though. He was one-hundred percent possessed. I just could not tell these townsfolk what had really gone on. A few days earlier, I came to this town with nothing but a briefcase full of tropical-colored shirts and packages of gluten-free egg noodles. True Hell-beasts really go for the gluten-free stuff.. not that I exclusively know anything about the beasts of Hell or anything. I was actually here because there was a convention in the actual metro area, and I was using my cousin's house to sleep at night. The curator had sent out a message that asked specifically for these noodles, and the shirts were just gifts from my mom before the trip. Any other clothes I had planned on wearing

Pretending To Scream

"You may be the most beautiful woman I have ever know.. but by God, what is that

Bored To Death: The HBO Faux-tective Series/Score:1

What crime could be more heinous that the other? What man could mistake you for another? Johnny-Man: The Devil-Rival On The Sweet Streets. Johnny-Man lives among us. His names rhyme with all the wind. His challenges exist near and far. He is a Winter-Born Man.
[Testimony from a Mama NaDine Toothpick'z- named after Anthony Wiggle-waggle's only Cartoon-themed seafood shack.] Mama Nadine "Toothpicks" of Greffen, Georgia circa 1789 He was always there for me. I believed he did birthed a child of mine at the time, but it was only what he'd call: "A Bogus Journey." Banny, er as he was once called, Banny would Be on the lookout for us. We were quite sure he was a murderer, but back then, a foolish me decided "You don't know the ugly truth! Come on, you don't know the guy"... ahem, I didn't know any languages, back then, so I was still petite. The first time any of us had spoken to him, he had already been passed on for the past 70 minutes or so, so we actually ignored him at risk of being accused of murder. When we had come back around, 2 hours later or so, he was actually ripe and freshly stained with blood which didn't help the sisters I was with believe that he wasn't so distant from all the Charlie Deckers in the world. We felt the sudden need to, jimmorisean in order to get past this orphaned man. My sister, Delilah-Belle, took out her teedlywink, and begun to type one mean dialogue with a young Doctor Amorphous. My medium sister Doctor Stella O'Baskerville, began to dribble a mean rock down the court past that nigga's head. I on the far-other hand, simply dropped my current mood and shouted him down from whichever rope he was stress-proofing. "What seems to be the malady, you crock bitch?" he said, and I turned to him and retorted "I beg yourn pardon?" "You summoned me, so I am the devil. So what's it going to be? 3 wishes or 3 punishments. . .for eternities. Yourn call." The gay bastard. As you can imagine, me and that fellow made great love that very night. He was actually on his "beach vacation" setting so, the sex was actually very relaxing in the long run. As you can imagine, he was half Jordanian and half Cleveland. Little did I know, Sister Lah-Belle, still on her teedee, accidentally jimmoriseaned our hero to a shallow-grave. One of the notes that Lah-Belle sent Doctor Amorphus was a complete mistake. She had actually typed what she was truly thinking, and it was not meant to reach the doctor. A message of Banny's uncertain outlook. ===============================================================

Original Documentation, th [court transcripts from the testimony of Orvilla Cain Rupture. And he's the narrator, basically.]

Now, to understand our doctor in this story, you'd have to have open your mind to walks of life. Naturally. A complete soft-sack by the age of twelve, Doctor Amelius Amorphus Rogers, was an absolute weird man. =============================================================

Relentless Documentation, op [the story is 3rd person limited, now]

The old Woolwarre home was a 2x4 plywood outhouse. They hated every moment of life. None of the sons had girlfriends, and none of the Woolwarre girls would study hard enough! So they reproduced fairly quickly, the parents, in order have children to spare due to inevitable self-mutilation. Non-offensive subliminally, paved the rest of this sentence. The walkways to the town from the small home was actually painted each day by this

From My Grandfather's Deathbed: Part 1

2004 burned itself into my memory with . It was the year my grandfather passed away, as well as the year I lost all hope in humanity. Henry Marshall, my then 87 year old grandfather, shared stories of his life as I sat by his bedside. Throughout my entire life I assumed my grandfather was a perfectly normal man, but the 3 days I spent with him before his death changed my entire perspective. On Tuesday, September 14th he shared this story with me. "I didn't believe in much those days, your father was just a little boy and I was trying to live a normal life after what had happened to your grandmother, God rest her soul. Jacob Peters, a new friend at the time was working with me. I worked at the firm back in those days, you know. Me and Jacob always went for a drink after work and have a good time. Sometimes I'd go over to his house for dinner, his family was always so nice. It's a shame. God, I hate even thinking about it. The bastard. Well, there was a period where nobody'd seen Jacob for a week or so, wasn't picking up the phone, I never saw him around, you know? Well I go over to Jacob's house to see what the hell is going on and that's when I was struck with that... that unexplainable fear. The door was cracked. I hesitated for a moment, sensing that something was wrong. I called his name but didn't get an answer, so I entered the house. I shouldn't have done that. Yet he was willing and forthcoming, but he could not stop moving! I screamed at him, 'You absolutely have to stop moving!' but he kept on singing that same damn melody. I found nothing familiar in his eyes, only fragments of the friend I once had. But the noise he was making afterward, shit, that made my hair stand on end. It reminded me of Popeye’s voice but slowed down at an impossible pitch. His voice would progress to a certain pitch and immediately decrease to where it was before. His entire body would sway like a top in a robotic motion. It truly disturbed me, and it is not something I will easily forget." not finished you ass.

The Forest: Part 1

Fast and ever approaching, the gentlemen rode. A thin arm wiped sweat from his painted face, and the only thing I could think of was the whistle. The tallest of the two dismounted first and looked my pregnant sister right in the eyes. She stumbled backwards somewhat, and the man burst into rusty laughter. I held my sister and reassured her with a soft whisper. I glared over at the man, and his faced seemed very odd in that moment. Flaking brown paint glistened in the midday sun, and I inquired why he would bother to decorate his face in this manner. His dark eyes snapped back at me and a demented smile formed in the corner of his mouth. The clouds drifted along in the sky. Two words were uttered, "Wake up." According to the words of wise men, the statue of a sleeping giant rests at the furthest point of the woods that overlook the edge of the world. In my thousand year existence, I have never seen such a thing. From a distance, the most I can make of this legend is that there are, in fact, no wise men. No such thing. On the contrary, I must tell you that wisdom, in whatever form, does exist, but no man contains it. Well, at least not anymore. I finished speaking with the trees seconds before the sun crept away so the moon could explore the empty night sky. I disappeared into the darkness and hoped for a chance to experiment with my new found sense of enlightenment. My fingers burned with electricity, and my eyes were sporadic with madness. The trees seemed even more stagnant as I raced past them and aroused their branches out of an eternal dormancy. The only sound for miles was my clumsy laughter. I nearly flipped the entire world upside down as I ran that night. The night came to life as my speed awoke each sleeping tree and encouraged the green out of the frozen ground.

An Epiklisi for the Third Sabbath

All is shown

Eyed in a crystal cup, a can:

A knot of yellow residue, a sulfuric sheen

*

Mandibles pried

Apart, making room

For the trap door. It yelps.

*

A little here and there all around the room

The eye is a crude display

I cannot be seen

An Epiklisi for the Second Sabbath

Theia! VÜISHTÜ!

The scrim of doubled rivers

Comes, spittles, 'pon

The brindle banks

*

A sleeping sallow demi-god

Reconstitutes in the cement basement  

Of a stained house by the interstate

*

Nozzle tips: muck

Echoes totter back and back

And back: when the ch(i)asm sups

'Pon the vibrant siren's boned rack