marriage skribbles with nick watts prologue oh my it’s closing credits at the start if that “head grip” thing you were *pause* half hours end us into several parts the whole thing barely took a half hour but if our baby looks dark… 1. dude, he’s <> jerry, man. sticking the spike into the turkey the way tom would search for jerry— now the hot kittie in the corner is slicing jerry up to order then bugs bunny drops by, yeah, just to say “hi.” 2. that puppy is messing with something over in wonderland there. sparky’s still shaking off his paws and you’ve got him down to “oh, that’s so dirty”— as if that was all he stood for. alicia keys’ stars are scars to me, like children and their trains: toss em straight down the drain. you’re the brain of the mu-mu and a lotta responsibility goes along with that. i mean cheating, man, it’s the last thing i’d dread facing those damn examinations. 3. he’s got her round the head again the groovy flows thru popeye’s spinach strong-arms bluto’s shooting iron but see popeye’s out of sight, yeah papa hawk gotta have his freshlings smack that firecrack just when you think you got away the beginning trapped you back bite his tail. bite it. for once aud loud! the chicken’s under the house it’s dog-face chicken-nose it’s neck to beak to neck it’ll stomp pumped tears into your hemorrhage (cont. same stanza) cause she’s precolicious babe she’s pre-fab she’ll precociate your ass it’ll surely temple your pussy until “baby takes a bow” 4. so if this beckett’s san quentin someday pricks you in your prude little sass masquerade superimposed i’m a lamp multi media what are yo dude check that shit out man he stars as crap. 5.the way i melted the last word wrong i try to start clean but already you’re talking bout the banana how the man lost his a-peal make me specify , pet I’ll name you you marmalade freak movie reels and cds look a like like you were looking 6.on top scratch me like that a new page is free of suggestion but it’s after 3, and already that’s got stigma mr. rhythm wld never let a thing like this happen you are not the dj or the organ grinder grinding up against his groin you play me quite so quietly he’s gonna (you know) soon we oughtta go before that happens the monkey’s been making him scream 7. sketchquickabunny he’s cowered in the corner like a coward in the corner burrow into feet like peppermint word farm tool attachment ™’s i think he had his orgasm. he’s staring at it deadlike breaks his 180 degree anglecovering fingers that gross shouldn’t be allowed to twirl anything i can picture you walking, braids swaying like you were fucking innocent 8. compromising your tori amos hey don’t blame me i loved jeff smith I never believe he frugaled that boy the helmet head held a lotta light but (cont. same stanza) the sperm & the egg is a little too much i hope you don’t think i left my scotch here for nothing 9. you leave, furry jumps. it almost makes me cry knowing the bear got drafted and it ain’t no dream. producing a video collection never smoked like that before— i found the confusion, she’s taking one long bow; she never pulsated children’s straight monkey requests. you know, i liked her with the monkey, i think i’d call an 800 number for that. i’d lost faith in johnny bravo, but then he brushed his hair. 10. anne bancroft ate my billy corgan agrees but i don’t care a fuck what he thinks i don’t like old men rude like this it took a lotta time to not start we still sell subscriptions everyday to that channel stuff it in her chest and let’s get on with it. epilogue you said you had just the thing for us to write home about cause hibernating was the present occupation. i’ll snuggle with my tollbooth still charging you, or did you forget who’s the one that leaves them scraping their pockets? at least if we failed, it wasn’t because we didn’t have rockets shooting out our pants. stop pointing your finger, ok? it’s unnerving. we’re so post-modern we don’t leave till we’ve left.