home authors guest shorts graphical shorts


“I’m going to roll my trouser legs down. My hair will no longer be parted. I will take skewers and jab them in to any set of eyes that dare formulate me. My face longs to grow sticky with the juice of a thousand peaches. I’m sick of the wall. Sick of wriggling, sick of sprawling.”

“I hear you dude, but…”

“I crave to disturb the universe, damn it! No more revisions. No more reversals.”

“Word, but…”

“I will dance in the rain to the mermaids’ mysterious song!”

“Abso-fucking-lutely, man, just listen for a sec…”

“Ennui, nausea, disquiet, despair, gloom, hopelessness? A dusty cupboard of shopworn signifiers, all sound and fury. There’s no word for this nameless suffering, this marrow-deep agony, this malaise that irrigates every nook and cranny of my being.

“No, no, there’s totally a word.”

“For the sickness? That envelopes my soul?”

“I don’t know about your soul, dude, but that painful discharge of urine squeezing out of your urethra drop by excruciating drop, that’s what we call strangury.”



“Oh. Thanks.”

“No biggie.”

“What, you mean for helping me out?”

“No, I mean your cock!”



Date Written: January 18, 2004
Author: scoop
Average Vote: 4

01/23/2004 anonymous (1):
01/23/2004 anonymous (4):
01/23/2004 Mr. Pony (5): Right on target.
01/23/2004 Moe-Ron (4): Best use of "wocka wocka" on the site. Ever.
01/24/2004 Dylan Danko (5): I second what the little lady said.
02/23/2004 scoop (5): Fucking genius!
06/10/2004 TheBuyer (5): zing!
06/10/2004 qualcomm (4):