Archive for the Short Faerie's Tails Category

Trump is a modern Scrooge

Posted in Cartoon Comics, Short Faerie's Tails, Uncategorized on December 26, 2016 by Drogo

Trump is a modern Scrooge (from Dicken’s story ‘Christmas Carol’); however he seems not to have learned the lessons that Scrooge learned by the end of the story. Some people do not learn to be more generous and loving as they age, even when confronted by ‘spirits’. Pain and suffering are not only natural parts of life, but very mysterious the more we study them with science and psychology.

Trump never learned by the end of the 1980s that greed and obsession with physical appearance and material wealth was unethical and immoral; socially and religiously. Trump has continued to abuse women, insult everyone, and make huge profits at the expense of millions of victims of a corrupt Capitalist system. Now made president by the electoral college, this wanna-be-dictator is increasing racist violence around the World, dismantling all the humane departments of government (Education, NPS, EPA, lower-class and middle-class well-fare), and increasing pollution and corruption within our country by a series of ‘executive orders’ and ignorant tweets and propaganda that promotes well-fare for the rich and oppression for the masses. The Tax bill, his actions against Natives, and his increase of War spending are clear enough; besides all his hate talk. There are reasons his approval ratings are lower than all other presidents in recorded history.

trump-carol

Play Pen of Madness

Posted in Short Faerie's Tails on June 28, 2011 by Drogo

Poof! Out of darkness, came a dark play pen of madness.

Mad Magazine’s Violent Mother Goose

Posted in Poems, Rhymes, Riddles, Short Faerie's Tails, Song Lyrics & Analysis with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 10, 2010 by Drogo

from Mad Magazine’s “Violent Mother Goose”

*

THIS IS THE FILM THAT JACK MADE

 

This is the girl who’s blown away

Whose in the film that Jack made

 

This is the creep who stalks his prey

Who blasts the girl whose blown away

Who’s in the film that Jack made

 

This is the ax that splits the head

That’s swung by the creep who stalks his prey

Who blasts the girl whose blown away

Who’s in the film that Jack made

 

This is dude who winds up dead

From getting the ax that splits the head

That’s swung by the creep who stalks his prey

Who blasts the girl whose blown away

Who’s in the film that Jack made

 

This is the Salesman from Omaha

Who calls on the dude who winds up dead

From getting the ax that splits the head

That’s swung by the creep who stalks his prey

Who blasts the girl whose blown away

Who’s in the film that Jack made

 

This is the handy electric saw

That slices the Salesman from Omaha

Who calls on the dude who winds up dead

From getting the ax that splits the head

That’s swung by the creep who stalks his prey

Who blasts the girl whose blown away

Who’s in the film that Jack made

 

This is the carnage of blood and gore

That’s made by the handy electric saw

That slices the Salesman from Omaha

Who calls on the dude who winds up dead

From getting the ax that splits the head

That’s swung by the creep who stalks his prey

Who blasts the girl whose blown away

Who’s in the film that Jack made

 

These are the profits of bucks galore

That come from the carnage of blood and gore

That’s made by the handy electric saw

That slices the Salesman from Omaha

Who calls on the dude who winds up dead

From getting the ax that splits the head

That’s swung by the creep who stalks his prey

Who blasts the girl whose blown away

Who’s in the film that Jack made

*

On the Way to Saint Ives

As I was going to Saint Ives,

I met a man with seven knives

49 hand grenades,

343 razor blades,

2,401 axes…

Axes, blades, grenades, and knives;

How many different ways to die?

*

Jack Sprat

Jack Sprat can swing his bat

his wife can spray her mace;

he’ll smack her hard

when she’s off-guard;

she’ll spritz him in the face.

Jack Sprat is knocked out flat,

his wife the worst of sights,

though bitter foes

at least it shows

they’re into equal rights.

*

 

 

Dr. Dippie’s Short Faerie’s Tails

Posted in Dr. Dippie, Fictional Stories, Short Faerie's Tails with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 27, 2009 by Drogo

Prolonged Prolog(ue’)

 

Shortly after the death of Doctor Dippie, these strange scribblings were translated from his entrails, upon execution of his Will. This collection of short stories and tales is dedicated to his dear friends and brothers from RWU: Deathstalker, Cordite, and the Smelly, Furry Hippy, with whom he spent many hours “Tossing the Panda”. Also Sir Jeffy, Gleason, and Gramps Speeg.

Note: not to be confused with his ‘Fairy Tails

– Firewalker Publishing 1995

TABLE OF CONTENTS

1.      The Blue Van with Pink Polka-Dots

2.      Cat in the Cradle, Baby in the Box

3.      Young Edward Chesterfield Goes to the Store

4.      Monkeys in My Pockets

5.      The Little Chihuahua

6.      Death On The Brain

7.      The Purpose of Your Pitiful Life

8.      Little Billy and the Big Bang

9.      The Case of the Missing Pickle (Part 2)

10.    Six Sick, Sick Poems

!!!Warning!!!:

Adult Content, not for good children over the age of 2 or under the age of 500

1. The Blue Van with Pink Polka-Dots

Posted in Short Faerie's Tails with tags , , , , , , , on October 10, 2009 by Drogo

Once upon a time, there was a blue van with pink polka-dots, and a brightly colored rose painted on each door. It had a Grateful Dead bumper sticker partially faded by the sun. Although it is not known first hand by the author, I’m sure that the interior upholstery reeked of marijuana. Often I see it stream by in a roaring blur of happy color, and yesterday it ran over my dog. All in all, … it is quite a bohemian contraption.

2. Cat in the Cradle, Baby in the Box

Posted in Short Faerie's Tails with tags , , , , , , on October 9, 2009 by Drogo

I remember the dream quite vividly. A screaming, shrill, high-pitched voice was ever present. Blood poured down my temples as I bashed my head against a wall to stop the pain. The pain of the child. The pain of the child was intense. The child was my child… the child was a baby… the baby was my baby!!! The baby was my baby!!! And the cat!!! The cat was threshing my poor infant child, and there was nothing I could do!

… Then suddenly, I awoke. My wife lay beside me, and all seemed normal. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I slid out of bed. As I approached the baby’s chamber, my heart beat like a hammer on an anvil. Good-God, the suspense. I flipped on the light switch and rushed over to the baby’s cradle. To my ultimate horror I found that the baby was gone! In place of my beloved baby, among the infantile swaddling buntings, lay the cat!!!

All sanity drained from me, I scolded the feline. The cat did not answer. Frantically I searched the room. My eyes searched to and fro. Then, all at once, my heart and eyes settled. No more screams, no more pain. I could once again return to my peaceful slumber; because there, in the corner of the room curled up in the cat’s box, was my child; dreaming the dreams of an angel.

3. Young Edward Chesterfield Goes to the Store

Posted in Short Faerie's Tails with tags , , , , , , , on October 8, 2009 by Drogo

One day, young Edward Francisco B. Chesterfield pulled on his fancy trousers and went to the store.

4. Monkeys in My Pockets

Posted in Short Faerie's Tails with tags , , on October 7, 2009 by Drogo

“Who among us doubts the word of Baal?” the prophet yelled. Silence fell over the crowd. Then the prophet stooped over to touch a small child on the head. “Would you like a monkey, little boy?”

The child turned his head from side to side with a puzzled expression. Then, in one grand swooping motion, the prophet stood erect with his hand pointing towards the heavens. “That’s right folks, I’ve got 20,000 monkeys in my pockets!” The crowd stared. Disbelief filled the air, and a sense of amazement spewed from their eyes.

“Not only that!” shouted the prophet after an appropriate amount of hang time. “But I have 20,000 pockets in my pants!!!” The prophet swung his arm over the audience, with the digits of his hand extended in such a fashion, that they cast the horrible shadow of a spider about to devour its prey. The shadow crawled over the faces of the audience. No one breathed. Even the babies shut-up.

Then suddenly a man came forth, “Man, you ain’t got 20 pockets, let alone… even one monkey!” The crowd made slight coo-ing noises, and the prophet folded his arms in a defensive manner saying, “I do not know who you are, nor do I care; but Sir I can assure you,” the prophet stopped when he noticed a baby about to cry. “I’ve got a monkey just for you,” he said as he knelt in front of the tot, “So Baby don’t be blue, ‘cause Ball loves you, and every monkey too.”

“Well…,” the man said, “Give the child his monkey.”

Well, the prophet was not pleased one bit. “Silence ye non-believer, or Baal will turn you into a son-of-a-llama farmer!” The prophet spit at the soiled ground between the two.

“Man, even if you could fit a monkey in your pockets, how long would it stay there? Two or three minutes, tops.” The man shook his head. “I once had a cousin that could fit up to three squirrels in his mouth, and an uncle that claimed to keep a kinkajou in his underwear for good luck, but this is Baal-shit! Show us the god-damn monkey!”

“Destroy him!!! Shouted the monkey lord. “By the powers of Baal invested in me, I spit lightning at you from my lips, and drown your ears with waves of my congruent hatred. Let lions take pleasure in your wasted flesh, and eagles eat out your eyes, and 100 bulls break your bloody balls! This I declare in the name of Baal, the Almighty, and let nothing remain to remind us of this non-believer!!!”

The prophet raised his hand, and in the name of Baal the crowd hissed and pounced upon the lone man. The crowd savagely ripped and tore at the un-believer. The sounds of the jungle itself came to life as the pack circled round, and the sounds of the dying man were inaudible over the call of the wild.

Finally, the crowd parted. Blood stained, they stared at the spot where the heretic was, and shunned from what they saw. Young Edward Chesterfield stepped forward, his socks and penny-loafers drenched with blood. He looked at what lay before him, and misjudging entrails for a tail he said, “A monkey. Look everybody, a funny monkey!”

5. The Little Chihuahua

Posted in Short Faerie's Tails with tags , on October 6, 2009 by Drogo

In a land far away, in the not too distant past, a little Chihuahua was born. He lived most of his life chained to a teensy-tiny tree with a very small chain. The rest of his life was spent inside the plastic purse of a Barbie Doll. These factors made him bark profusely. And that, being the climax of the story, makes for a very dull life.

6. Death On The Brain

Posted in Short Faerie's Tails with tags , , on October 5, 2009 by Drogo

 

Rotting mutilated corpses of masochistic monks litter the crypt. The air is heavy with the odor of meat and bodily fluids that have been left out for one week too long. Dance little bugs, dance little worms, to the music of the winged fly.

The blood on the walls has dried now, and looks much like ragged brown tapestries. A plethora of ropes hang from the rafters, and to each a cat, dog, or mouse is attached. Of all the bodies in the crypt, and they are all horribly grotesque, none can compare to the now unidentifiable corpse of Father Fernando. His head and brains are minced upon the floor, his body twisted and wrapped with his own intestine, and his arms are removed and placed in inappropriate positions. Beside his toeless feet, a small pickle rests.

Dill I believe.

There are various darkened circles of blood set in intervals around the floor, and a large stream leads from the main crypt, down the darkened corridor. It begins to taper and wind, and further down the hall it simply becomes a random trail of reddish brown dots. The blood-speckled path ends at a doorway to the right of a gargoyle. There is no light to warm this door, or the hunched figure at its step. He thinks he is safe, hiding here in the dark, but we know where he is. We smell his thoughts. He sits there now, gnawing on a bone, and there is death on his brain.

7. The Purpose of Your Pitiful Life

Posted in Short Faerie's Tails with tags , , on October 4, 2009 by Drogo

The purpose of your pitiful life, is not what you think it is. It is pitiful. You do not know what it is, except that it is pitiful; and that is because I have just told you it is so.

8. Little Billy and the Big Bang

Posted in Short Faerie's Tails with tags , , on October 3, 2009 by Drogo

One day Little Billy went to play with the Old Chemist down the street. The Old Chemist was very fond of Little Billy, and often shared secrets of the Universe with him when they played together. Today, Little Billy had a secret to share with the Old Chemist.

“How are you, Little Billy?” the Old Chemist asked, adjusting his beakers.

“Very well, thank you.” Little Billy told the Old Chemist, allowing himself to be touched on the head by the elderly gentleman. “What games are we going to play today?”

“Well I thought that we might tinker around with some hydrogen balloons, sprinkle around some black powder, and adjust the methane valves and tanks.”

“Wow, that sounds fun!” Little Billy exclaimed, and they began playing. It wasn’t long before Little Billy remembered that he had a secret to share with the Old Chemist. Little Billy held a hydrogen balloon in one hand, sprinkled some black powder in his hair, and opened a methane valve while the Old Chemist tapped the tanks with a hammer. “Oh, I almost forgot, I have a surprise for you this time, Old Chemist!”

“Really?” the Old Chemist asked, spilling alcohol and petroleum oils on his hands.

“Yes,” Little Billy said digging in his pocket, searching for his secret to share. “Here it is! Remember that story you read me about ‘The Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court’? Well I can make magic too!” and with that, Little Billy pulled out at lighter. By rubbing his thumb on the small mechanism, Little Billy learned about the Big Bang.

9. The Case of the Missing Pickle (Part 2)

Posted in Short Faerie's Tails with tags , on October 2, 2009 by Drogo

Missing Pickle

Sam Schlap was on the case, again… THE END (continued in Part 3)

10. Six Sick, Sick Poems

Posted in Short Faerie's Tails with tags , , , , , , , , on October 1, 2009 by Drogo

(1) The Poem of Deathstalker and Firewalker, the Bobpsy-Twins

I am a turtle. One llama? Two llamas?? Three llamas??? No! Three llamas and a coyote.

I am a turtle, hear my skin breathe. I am a turtle’s tail, can you find me?

I am a cute fishy. Aren’t I?

I am a maggot. This is my rotten gerbil home.

Moooooooo! I am a fat cow. You can kill me and eat me. Drink my milk.

Am I under a rock?                 No.

Am I under your paw?            No.

Can you find me and my big fat claw?!!!        Yes.

I am a HAPPY flower. I am a DEAD flower.

(2) Suicide Is Served

Suicide is a dish, best served cold.

(3) Fast Food, Fast Shit

Eat, eat, eat, eat. Eat so much and fast that you can not stop!

Fill your face until you drop. Live fast, and die fast.

Fast food, fast shit.

Slow food, slow shit.

Take your pick!

(4) No One Knows

Know one knows, what I’ve been told. No one cares.

Even I cannot remember, what was said to me.

Even if they care, it doesn’t matter. Not one bit.

Im dying inside my head, how about you?

Im dying inside my body, isn’t it true?

You cannot deny it.

We are all fucked.

Go take a shit.

(5) Follow the Flow

Do what they tell you. There is no reason to think you are special.

(6) Miss Betsy’s Sulfuric Acid Advertisement

Miss Betsy’s Old Style Sulfuric Acid

You can use it for fertilizer.

You can use it as a sun tan lotion, and never worry about the sun again.

Its used in the manufacturing of many products, plastic, or otherwise.

Its included in the world-famous acid rain!

I bet you are wondering:

How can I get this miracle product?

You can call our number, and give us your consumer cash!! NOW!!!

“Hey honey, how is that new sun tan lotion?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!”

Call now.