A SERIES OF INTENTIONALLY UNCONNECTED BLAH’S: My Sentiments.(boohoo!)

               To the queer Ursula, don’t get all shook up over this but if guilt is a bevy of maggots, feel free to wither.

           I tried not to scream when my eyes landed on it. The nerves! That was all my feeble, tacky fuse box could come up with after going through a twisted saga. The infamous adrenalin rush overwhelmed the sum of my so-called filth. Puhleeaaase!!! Save all the “ugh!” in this world at that very instant and I could have blasted the greatest gadget of mankind, smack dabbed at the queer Ursula’s face. The confusion was utterly evident and it was a surprise, denial would be the disclaimer. Again, puhleeaaase!! Tell that to the marines. Lip service is for dumb people but considering the self-acclaimed smart ass that he proved to be, everything’s an ugh! away. Like, come on, trip on the boundary of saccharine tongues and highfaluting lines and you’re all over it like a die hard buff?! Perish, forbid! A wordsmith?? Cum on.. err… come on(haha!). Smart alleges are indeed, surprise surprise, smart alleges alone subtlety cloaked with wrong grammars, grade school spelling, off beam terminologies and disorganized thoughts. And that is what? Worth a flattery. Blank tone. Sarcastic tinge. Sardonic mockery obscured on pursed lips. Heller???? (Scream, scream, screeeeeeeaam!!!!!) How dare those dense creatures place my lifetime cynical hero beside an all-knowing, plagiarist charlatan (Stupid? Consult the dictionary). It’s always better to let someone think you’re an idiot than to open your mouth and prove it. I reckoned people are getting more gullible every fucking day of their fucking lives.

           If our country adopted NFL, the queer Ursula could have been a quarterback for being the best plotter of the season. Or maybe a movie director. I could imagine the sack of trophies he could have won on his account and at my expense. Robert de Niro would be a flop on one of his Mafia roles coz guess what, Ursula’s way better than any Italian-twanged Mafia leader. The plot is to what? Sabotage me to add a star to his merits? Or to save the devil’s ass at my expense? Either way, it’s all rubbish! And mind you, he will go to any length to shield whatever it is he’s been trying to veil under his blistering, eternal cape. What’s under there can warrant a life’s extinction. Yep. That’s how important the queer Ursula is. Tough for us, huh?

           But a good friend once observed that my show of teeth is not a smile but a warning. Rarrr. Call me a leopard, call me a kitty cat, call me choleric, call me anything you dirty little swines can conjure up for the benefit of my crumble. But as the wise, citrusy vocalist friend of mine said, “fumble, tumble just don’t crumble. Wipe your ass off when you stumble…” Corny rhymes are pathetic I know but I’ll take that as a desperate source of advise for the sake of this burrowed Pendleton I have plunged myself into. It’s unwise to take everything in as they come and be swept off by babbles and pompous verses screaming of blunder but as human as I am who errs once in a while, let me scream over this matter and over the devil’s superficiality. I was a victim and I am not divine. Pretty hilarious if you ask me coz I’ve done piles and piles of experimental reports in Psych and I sure know when a thing is empirically true. Like heller, just the mere fact that he stood between me and the jack, with all palpable effort,  to cease all negotiations can boing points to his guilt card. Hundreds of kilometers away, his heart beat then was audible. I wondered, why the fuss in solving all the puzzles in his planet? Surprise, surprise, it’s none of his business. But maybe, just maybe, the queer Ursula is a Drag Queen. Hmmm, why not. Or would anybody daresay, “that’s preposterous??!” Hmmm… Would you? I dare you.

Nastiness begets nastiness, had it not been for my significant others to mind, the queer Ursula could have been a mouth loaded of asphalt. Morbidly tortured. An abstract of tangled bones. My cutest daydream. But a clenched fist would be much of a trouble since his plot is worth a decade’s plan. So let the drag queen do the mathematical calculation, theories, eureka and the crap. Let everything fall on me until I remain a carcass. With my swollen eyes, beaten heart, the queer Ursula has the world at his feet. Happy now? Let us all give him a clap, no, a round of applause. A standing ovation to be more grandiose. Hooray to you, my Lord, the queer Ursula

I haven’t let the clutter all go. A humungous hibisbus I may sound at this very confusing moment at your computer screen but obviously, I’m all itchy to scream. On the verge for a deluge. Rhyme. Tsk.

P.S.

Care to put your money where your mouth is??? That’s what Mafia does. You don’t get me, do you? Fagot, maggot, they rhyme. Haha!

          

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