Publish Icing

So my alter ego, along with some other weirdos, decided to start a blog!

kvltblog.blogspot.com

Public Awareness Message

Save water when you flush. A single flush drains enough water to support seven hundred and fifty three micro-midget families. The micro-midgets are an important part of the economy. They rear micro-midget sheep, whose dung is collected and sold as caviar. Yes it’s a little known fact! And without caviar the Russian economy would be further ruined, and they would take to building more nuclear missiles to supply to Asian countries, thus catalyzing the arms race, which would result in a nuclear fallout and the ultimate destruction of the Earth.

Now you know how everyone plays an important part in keeping the world safe!

Today’s message brought to you by the Malossol Caviar Production House Incorporated.



PS: Also say no to Coca Cola!

A Rolling Stone

“Ah, yes! Good morning, sir
What can I do for you?
Are you interested in a room?
I’ve got a loo with a view!”

“Is this the hotel California?”
The traveller blandly said
“You know, the place
Where they have the spirits of the dead.”

“Oh, come now, sir” the innkeeper replied
“I wouldn’t believe all that rubbish if I were you!
But would you still be interested
In that loo with a view?”

The traveller looked at the innkeeper;
He was around five foot seven.
“Do you know,” he asked,
“Where I can find the Stairway to Heaven?”

“An old lady used to know that”
The innkeeper responded.
“But she’s got something with a piper
I would stay away”, he warned.

“It’s like this,” the traveller went on
“I’m interested in this weird occult and stuff”
“That’s great, sir. Why don’t you take a room?
We’ve got ladies in the buff!”

“I’ll stay,” said the traveller
“If you’ve got tapes that play backward.”
“Who’d want that?” asked the innkeeper,
“That would be really awkward!”

The traveller went on to explain
“They have secret messages, that when
Played backwards become very plain.”
“Why would you play it backwards
Unless you had no brain?”

“Well, they make the music such, that
When you play it, what’s reversed affects the mind”
“Just take a room,” the innkeeper said
“At a discount – I’ll be kind!”

“Do you know a Sergeant Pepper?
He died twenty years ago today?”
The innkeeper said, “I don’t know
But we have a band that cannot play!”

“Well,” said the customer, “just give
Me a room. I’ll take whatever’s fine”
“That’s the spirit”, the innkeeper cheered,
“I’ll give you room number Nine.”

“Number nine?” the customer asked
“Number nine” affirmed the innkeeper
“Number nine?” once more
“Number nine!” testily

Then the innkeeper lit up a candle
And showed him the way
There were voices in the corridor
He thought he heard them say
“Watch it, we just polished the floor!”

Dance in the Sun

We’re off to the magical kingdom
Where the giant crocodiles grow
Where the sun shines bright
And P. James does magic shows!

“Starboard!” cried Vendu, as we all dived to one side, shifting the weight on the boat. Vendu pulled the stick to which the outboard rudder was attached, pushing the whirring blades into the surf, as the boat jumped up over the waves and swerved to the right. The Alpina Verona bounced along the waves, making good time, as we neared the temple

Vendu busied himself with anchoring the boat, as the rest of us got off one by one. With the motor of the boat cut off, there was not a single man-made sound on the island. Just the waves, crashing pacific on the shore. And animal sounds – the small furry kinds and the feathered kinds, from the forest ahead of us. Blues, greens, and bright yellows filled the scene.

The small crowd of tourists walked off in different directions, eager to explore the mystical
island. Vendu sat on a rock near his boat and lit his pipe.

“Would you like to see the temple?” he asked, his mouth bent crooked to accommodate the pipe as he spoke.

“Sure”, I replied.

He got up and jumped over a couple of rocks into the trees that lined the side of the beach. The terrain was a mix of sand and rock. I followed him. “This way” he beckoned. One of the many temples stood before us. Sombre. Carved into the rocks, were gods and goddesses, monkeys, mortals, elephants – they were monolithic mammoths. The myths of yore captured in stone. Frozen in time.

The apsaras, the apsaras
They dance naked among the flowers
Mushrooming around them
As they shoot up to the stars

We climbed to the top of the hills, discovering temple after temple. Jumping from rock to rock, taking our cues from the goats that resided in the area. Night drew near as we sat atop the highest rock. In the distance the silhouette of one of the temples stood, stark, against the setting sun.

Sow the seed!

It's been a while since a post! The thing is, my fertile imagination lies dormant! I need to spew some creative jizz on it! So I'm gonna take a short vacation this weekend! Yay!