SOUL SLAPS
There was a convoy of admonishments for mockery and disrespect which was dispersed from the sanctimonious walls protecting the Brothers of Fancy Pants in lower Sweathawg by Freshsquirt Skydiving School.
Suspicion arose when convoys appeared in lieu of the traditional dump truck parades of admonishment soul slap cluster bomb bitches. Revelations would enlighten chatty silver surfers in Sweathawg to the shameful name two powder fresh transplants had christened on their newborn smile diaper.
Communion was utilized as a performance piece during religious presentations which may or may not include candles. Communion was most certainly frowned upon as a first name for any pilgrim spirit.
Soul Slap congregations convened on the estate of Miriam and Tyckle Troubleis. Mr. Troubleis preferred a Polynesian ‘leis’ flourish to his unique familial name whereas Miriam would battle grind destroy those failing to squeeze a ‘trouble is’ in proper formation.
The Troubleis union in either form were apologetic to the Soul Slap agents arriving on brooms. An attempt was made to form the acronym CAT from a letterboxed soup ballet describing their bundle burp bag of joy.
The Brothers of Fancy Pants added Mr. and Mrs. Troubleis to their magic blackboard of secrets after rearrangement of some letters to form the more suitable first name of Coin. Coin Alablaster Troubleis would have enormous shoes, almost clown-like, to frolic in one day. To the relief of the fancy pants legion, communion had regained harmony where it belonged, in a suffocating airtight plastic bag.
SPIDER CAUGHT A FLY
Kristy’s feet stank. It was a mixture of sizzling sweat with Super Star onion beef toxicity. You took your strikes while existing in the competitive teenager zit fast food brackets. Power-dumping children into work factories consumed precious innocent time dimensions. Meaningless tasks exchanged for nickels across labor markets during formative acne tolerance stages was off-putting for Kristy.
Her older brother, Twizzle, inherited a stellar position at their family’s organization. A Snack In Time (ASIT) toyed with the underutilized ‘stitch in time’ methodology by capitalizing on rebranding corporate sugar junk poison treats with ASIT’s unique stickered packaging which included a coupon for one free butter crumb donut at all announced meet-ups.
Perpetual Phreddy Phailrock produced Twizzle with an earnest attempt to form two male heirs but was met with failure. Kristy Phailrock would not have the luxury of distributing illegal syrupy goodies in pop-up locations announced on the dark web like her duck-nosed brother would.
The business was private with access to stolen trademarked products granted after a complex series of demanding, bordering on offensive, physical challenges were completed. Not passed, just attempted with full completion without complaints. Avalanches of whiners were annihilated in round nineteen following the ‘lasso a working body part to any living or mostly breathing beast in the fowl kingdom’.
To gain shopping access candidates entering spotlit wonder fun kingdoms eight through eleven interacted with decoy service animals, not in ordinary form. Monkeys were beckoned by deploying a memorized jinglin code using four out-of-tune handbells acquired from The Brass Swingers found discarded after a smoldering garage sale relationship implosion life hemorrhage reported by a nosey Mrs. Kravitz on Cheerydiablojollycrime Circle.
Kristy grew frustrated with her French fried stink hole burnout presentation while Twizzle had unlimited access to her father’s Sizzler VIP discount card. Her desire to be an electrical engineer fizzled out when the family’s corporate structure game plan was presented to her in mock trial fashion after blossoming at five years old.
Cracking squawk box walkie-talkie codes at the crisp age of three, Kristy knew her way around telecommunication galaxies. When the male heir alliance campaign played into her distressed brain theater, Kristy reprogrammed her spirit to destroy the lineage. It was every Phailrock for themselves.
The exhaustive Ferris wheel of doom people were willing to endure for rock-bottom discounts on overpriced cookies or Hershey chocolate hurricanes brought disappointment to Kristy. After a formal study of internal operations at ASIT, Kristy felt obligated to transmit confidential intel to federal agents posing as PEZ employees.
Genuinely impressed, the pressed pants boys in government junction nicknamed this the spider operative. Kristy still smells like discolored oil while trying to find a window to pen short emails to her family currently housed in prison. It will happen soon.
ABOUT THE ARTIST
Berthed from mischievous leprechauns near technicolor shadow lands surrounding Honah Lee, Theodore Wallbanger rides mysterious sparkle railcars bursting with crunchy cotton candy clouds dispatched from slippery erotic massage vixens who rage pillow laugh hourly within a splintered transportation module that screams along butterscotch wonder tracks forming vibrations for audiences across Sugar Hill Mountain.
Image generated on Magic Studio
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