Pruforker's Way

By Fisher Thompson

J. Aloisio Pruforker, a publican in Dundrum, living life in the only way he knows. In short, Pruforker's Way: the story of one everyman

• Language: English
• Publisher: M.H. Dartos
• Release date: Nov 18, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370144747

Fisher Thompson

Fisher Thompson is dodging skeeters and shanks in the backwoods of middle America. Reports of his death have been greatly exaggerated.

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PRUFORKER’S WAY

Fisher Thompson

This book is work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by Sheamus MacGillivray

Copyright © 2017 by Fisher Thompson

Published by M.H. Dartos

at Smashwords

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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All rights reserved.

*****

Dandywallers he goes, sham in a forker’s lane, as he pleezes, to mark his ployce. Gone perambulicious he has, entirely raademant, en route to Ocean City he sat like a Crabber in the Rhine in the back seat of the family car with Mallory B, age fifteen, a pretty girl and exquisite young lady. He twiddled and twaddled till he had the delicate flower shivering and shaking, knees wobbling, legs flexing, to gleefully accept her demise and plunder as vestiges of artistic pursuits.

That's not it at all, that's not what I meant at all, bristles J. Aloisio Pruforker.

After the tender young words, after the tea, after the skirts that trail along the floor, after the young girl bending and stretching provocatively, after the consuming carnal thoughts. Throw off yer shawl. Shrug off yer skirts. Let a man wear the fuzz off yer muffin. It is impossible to say just what I mean! I am no a saint, nor was meant to be. And so he goes out a walkening like a Crabber in the Rhine, eating aaand drinking and smutting lovelorn lassies to his grizzled maw while he breaks a foiled wind of ailing curds and comes upon himself a mess of seamen brand. Hij beweegt zich zo hij breekt snel de wind.

Now it was a made afore method of raison he had that so allowed him this modicum of commodious turpitude to partake of Mormon's tea which disenchanted the weavers and woevers of the many troves but only now to come alone and bequeathed to none is his lot and loot and a freight worse than debt. Galileo, Galileo, stoon me Galileo, he cried, tune the heated breath to the interlocutor who is sin fact the executioner and dance away and toward the groundswell of fusion mustard gasses we send up ragged and torn, a radical decentering of our cultural sphere. To what do I speak! Alas, poor Yorick, I knew thee well, tho ye be unwell to death's chamber maid. A whore, a whore, my kingdom for a whore. Aye, so it is. Another poor beggarman brought down by the hairs that bind. 'Tis the pull beyond a twenty stallion team thæse seeming simple curlews expound upon the man, amen, who so spies them as his landing. And as he rode he bethought these thingagibbies and more or less afore to raison the hussies from plunder.

It's a stinking world because there's no law and order anymore! It's a stinking world because it lets the young get on to the auld. Oh, it's no world for an auld man any longer. What sort of a world is it at all? Mun on the moon, and mun spinning around the earth, and there's not no attention paid to earthly law and order no more. Mekes me right puggled. If yernae heelpin the waulde o’mun gie's a break ya toaty heid squaddie teke yer slaggy poofy self n sookit. Teke the paracetamol and dinnae stop.

The princess of correction shall be notified of yer disturbance.

Miles from the sparse towering modern malls, several kilometers down a sidewalk, just outside the shining and mauldy warehouse.The sound of shattering glass resonates.A man gazes hesitantly into a greasy locket. A stray dog runs away cooly.Do ye’ think she is out there? the woman wonders.The sound of a lonely car alarm is cut off violently.The bruised woman and the bloodied man cross gazes again.

Sorlick stepped back from the mirror with his raw wet razor in hand, ogled his long hard face, scratched his goolies, and saw a face like his own but ugly, knew he was swinging for hanging. This brought to mind his poor sweet sister Aima who so long ago had skittered faer and away and god knows what’s come of her. Long Mac Emonis. Slywhillacker sheamus crieth bite not the cock that feedeth, no touch, no talk, no eye contact, best advice for meeting a strange cockling. But no idea she had as to his come arounds. Let it lie and die proper and true. Badge had she her cooter mound the whisper, the command, the come on, the, the, the…Sun’s a bye bye on this dark day. With slitmost hoviality goeth. Mebbe time to shore up for the snickliing winter crawling. And then….and then…

Nothing atall, surely. Not a thing shall pass this gate without a lay bye, so it is decreed amongst mice or men. What does it all matter? We’ll be all nice and quiet when we’re dead and gone --- and nothin’ll matter then. Slow the cock, feed the chickens. Not a greavestone in the wide and swingbutt world can save yer sorry behind. Chickens everywhere. We’ll be all nice and quiet when we’re dead and gone. It’s like a fella hangin. He hasn’t much of a choice. The evergreens did not even sway in their sleep in the churchyard, where bees droned between the graves from dandelion to white clover; and the laurelled path between the brown flagstones luked so worn smooth.

Life in the iron mills I see yet another godawfulcloudy day the air stifles me, thick, clammy, insuprocktuent foul. All is smoke! I see it roll smoke on the wharves, the platings, the moorswept tinders, smoke on the dingy boats, smoke on the yellow river, going brown in buckets. Smoke everywhere! Smoke clinging coating, schticking, greazy on the house front I see the dull grooly faces of the passersby. With drunken faces, full of unawakened power asking nothing of this world breaking always searing coughing choking yet their lives ask it; their deaths screech it. Long have I hoped! Long have I desired! That others would see this perfume tinted dawn so fair with promise, poisse, pimentos, Cuchulainn hope to come.

Suckmuell, Heubba, Spint, and Cagling, had a fling flang shamawhamper with Vebrugge I. B. Gon. Ver B so called hadda markins lyke JI549834 peerin offis au naturel byootox anall so when he got runnin and jumpin ana singinlyke he was wont to do the pain of watchin to all a retchin case of juggernauts fluitis and set the groundswell mites of the island ployces to fall about laffin so hard they fit to burst they shortsin explosive fecalia. Was a manner of playawfulness the island folk had brought one and all to the ployces of gathrins as they did of oddeven moments. There was plumbs and grumes and cheriffs and citherers and raiders and cinemen too.

Time ago tha island was home only to nuts and buries and critters large tho mostly small but now that the manny of minionkind had found their grisly ways into and around this island presides of Eve and Adam the whole shebangin lot of joltin egg farters have busted into a eucalyptimus blossom of gaping pig shiite and people panic and turned this one time glycerine nitride termini into a godawfl retch of slop house swine. The locals aint so loco as to think about bangin em on the noggins and gettin em to gettin out but all the seamen they would ne to mind the limination. To the continuation of that celebration until Hanandhunigan's extermination! Some in kinkin corass, more, kankan keening. Shos then the hospititialities of the world at largesse. Nvr mind, it is sed, nvr mind, we could always conspire a tasty sweet meats and set things to rite. See what happens when the somatophage merman takes his fancy to the virgitarian swan of the island folk. This swan's Mayan and that wan's urine! Zymoglyphic.

Ain't that swell, hey? Peamengro! Talk about lowness! Suckmueller Hacoba had ‘is own mind made about such goins on and tauld ever a one so much as lent an ear, tho onlee the def wuns would care to bother, bad livers and all, chompin at the horse tooth faeries and juicin the gherkin post. His scutschum fessed, with archers strung, helio, of the second. Hootch is for husbandman handling his hoe.Wuz a world in a world in a world all curled up and brownin nice fer tha feast of tha Goolies.

While they were ephedra free and…were…supposedly…may not change overnight, nothing that drastic does and clindamycin, conjugative transposons contain all about Wimmin - a full-featured site celebrating woomonhood. Wimmin helping wimmin. Wimmin sharing with wimmin. Wimmin supporting wimmin. A site for free thinking and Wimmin helping wimmin.

Hide and steek, Cowpuddles and cowpuddles, twixt the grømmin of the lately day ken ye’ hear and feel the wet and slop of the puddle pellets. Tho not a pellet to be found underskirt. But petals run free. Tee the tootal of the fluid hang the twoddle of the fuddled, O! Ye’ three or four common is drippin away yer muffins bye and bye. With their deepbrow fundigs and the dusty fidelios. Lay him brawdawn alanglast bed.

How charmingly exquisite!

An unprotracted female at the pyramids. Pride, O pride, thy prize! Jute! Stench! A door, a rose, a shite, a blind wench unfaulding the lawnderee. A leaf is left to wither a crunchy bunchy death shapen. An ox is a cow of a bulldyke difference, wanting of sauterne expositure as it was. A hatch, a celt, an earshare this; queer and it continues to be quaky. Stay us wherefore in our search for tighteousness, O Sustainer, what time we rise and when we take up to toothmick and afore we lump down upown our leatherbed and in the night and at the fading of the stars! Upwap and dump em, Fæce to Fæce! The oaks of auld now they lie in peat yet elms leap where askes lay. Phall if ye’ but will, rise ye’ must: and none so soon either shall the pharce for the nunce come to a setdown secular phoenish. A bone, a pebble, a ramskin; chip them, chap them, cut them up always; leave them to terracook in the muttheringpot. Everyone puts his fault on the times. Only the ferocious ruthlessness of life had made it in time seem so.

His opine is what mattered but mattered not at all.

Our thyme is anigh for croössing barriers, for erasing auld kittergories, for proôbing around. Stammering coughs sneezes hiccoughs snarls pain screams fear whimperings sputterings slobberings droolings idjit sex noises and animal sounds affect a revoltolution. Ze anal canalé does no produce lubricanus to ‘elp ze penetracioné. Greeze up yer buttercup greeze ‘er up greeze ‘er up. Plenty a piece of idjit a time these parts für clopping. Tis a fermers lyphe of fomenting the fermented verdurous planes where the majestic mounts a peelin grease the greater good of idjified raison. The Mahommedans in general do not appear to be much shoocked by their effrontery their ebackery their esidery or their undersidery. Be right and be last afore ye’ be first and be wrong.

Within a brightly lit theater, down the brown gleaming street.The rooms are overrun with green grafitti.Why are ye’ lost? the man ponders silently.Do ye’ think there could ever be a reason? the faceless individual replies.The rain fills the air.Remember when she was still alive? the man says.

Female sex is to be seen in the streets qoit regorgeless and unlaced. Peas can grow very well without sticks, and cannot only grow thus unsupported, but can also make their way about the nether world without encumbrance of sticks whatsoever. A stickless pea is a mareveled thing, like du peas in a pod of peas. She was a Hunan creature, with arms and legs, and she indented to juice them. A fault wance denied is twice committed. Her child was oneyearsauld and she wantedmoresperms.

She was determined to grasp at a life of her own desiring, no longer content to drag through with her repetitive days, neither happy nor unhappy, merely passing them in the wearying spirit of service; and the more the calls of duty tried to tie her down to this life the more intolerably burdensome it became.

While far and away from this small farm among the hills, shut away from living by its pigsties and byres and the rutted lane that twisted out to the road between stone walls the salinators of salty seas. Everywhere they were plounding about and waggin their foppacious thingies at any and all tho mostly none would dare cross their salinacious paths. A salivating and salinating they would go, and come, the most gallinaceous salinators of the sapientious salinating hordes. A salination nation. And Willer Chompkins was at hates haid of the alienating salination events. Willer loved to speak at length and width never exceeding his depth to the folks of the fair environs called his homeland: Didja notice fair upslope peoples of this grate oasis called our little island how the wance proud and bountiful sea so lately now called the Near Dead Sea has become a festering cesspool of slopping rot due to the pugnacious nay buddhistitic jimbobs who have taken it upon themselves to desecrate and befoul our wance pure virgin lands? And what do we respond to such outrageous outrage? Nuttin. Not a thing. Means as little as a flower that has withered in a vase behind curtains through the winter when it’s discovered and lifted out on a day in spring. Powerful weather we’re havin’. The eternal medals and rosary beads were waiting on the spikes of the gate.

Dis has become a case of all divided by one and we must take root upon ourselves to form a new pollination of refusal to such outrageous gutting of our communal fuzzy pie, no matter how trickelsing it may be. No man to dare stick a finger into my pie, I say it is ungodly and unkempt, and undiurnal that these prattlepate belchbounders have dared to finger the community pie. And not only finger it do they; they lick and lick and dip in that soiled finger again and again! Were this act of theirs the seminal seamen of semination, flooded would we be with the spitful spawn of their saline-franchised loinmeats. Then we'll know if the feast is a flyday. She has a gift of seek on site and she allcasually ansars helpers, the dreamydeary. Heed! Heed! Mun talk bout there goes the neighborhood! We must, we must, charge forth or burst upon ourselves the fetid diarrhetic discharge of a cowardly people what no longer deserve purchase on so pure a land.

The tragipotamus Lester Shomkins sobbed, himself wheywhingingly sick of life on some sort of a rhubarbarous maundarin yella- green funkleblue windigut dioding applejack squeezed from sour grapefruice and, to hear him twixt his sedimental coombslips when he had gulfed down mmmmuch too mmmmany gourds of it retching off to almost as low withswillers, who always knew notwithstanding when they had had enough and were rightly indignant at the wretch's hospitality when they found to their horror they could not carry another drop, it came straight from the noble white fat, jo, openwide sat, jo, jo, her why hide that, jo jo jo, the winevat, of the most serene magyansty az archdio- cheese, if she is a duck, she's a douches, and when she has a feherbour snot her fault, now is it? Now to lounge afore the fire and lose himself in the fantastic flaming of the branches: how they spat or leaped or burst in a shower of sparks, changing from pale red to white to shifting copper, taking on shapes as strange as burning cities.

He never di care to know the differs tween jo sabe and wasabe so no telling what the messa gromrude could be mead of the mastiff messes of the restis. Igneous to indigenous to ingenuous he di not know or kair ta but he could sure to know the differs tween rot gut and snot smut. Of the ladder he was plentee the gentlehandmen wi hisself to anertain on those menee a hot smookin nites by the glimmerer. Na a woomon wench was seen fit nor flabbee to round the corners o the pale moon skyes cuz of the menee stories tauld of beastie jowlin crabbers out n about in the twilight gleamins. And Lester Shompkins was not to raggen chase em down no how, a sailer of ye aulden so he was. Bring em dok side and the games afoot of anee size yeropean. Was a world of plentee and thassawaysit stays for Lester type blokes or brakes on the lorrees.

Around the endless grey crumbling offices,down the street,just outside a glowing and shining theater, a raccoon runs away slowly.The man and the aged wanderer cross gazes wance more. Olinda retreated to the pom pom of the bom bom in those feral days by tha Guanifer and ever auld Manny felid was coming up the rye patch, luking ever the ancient with foolsstrap eggdrops overhanging the garder helm. It's an easy rhyme of Anoka Blain given the tenor of cumberstendin and how she tauld them to never agin drisc the tentoples. Rot a peck of pa's malt had Jhem or Shen brewed by arclight and rory end to the regginbrow was to be seen ringsome on the aquaface. Mastabatoom, mastabadtomm, when a mon merries his lute is all long. For whole the world to see the south-west wind gathers moisture on its long journey across the oceans, then strikes against the mountains, rises to a great height, and pisses down on the poor unfortunates who earn their daily bread by the sweat of their brows in this holy, catholic, and apostolic country of Ireland. Get roasted alive in hell or drownded and perished in Connaught.

Hendy thought of the present-day Arcadians, autochthonous, sprung like ergolian beetles from the apple core of Liverpudlian gremets and from the very earth on which they live, who with every draught from a lilywhite stream drink up the nighties and the cherry blossom girlies of millennia of history and legend. And when he sawanews was seen by the many and the few proud thought they may or may not be he was assured a blessed vetting had indeed respired and retired onnner and byond a bledlow bandisgorn he the marver of hellion scoring from Oconee to Swacagonee into viles of crocodile soups and casseroled all for the unrestless natives. Olinda was a wanderin an a ponderin and tellin of the days and nights of auld yeller baskets when of a wance wallstrait auldparr is retaled early in bed and later on life down through all Christian minstrelsy. She coulda given a black reddy round ta any hanshin fool come galloopin a round about tha way but she did te fairly know the shine of stars in the evvens and why they range so free. She had not yet dulled her sense of the mystery of life with the business or distractions of the day and the hour. The rules and the beatings started after she set fire to the curtains. She wanted to see how the purple silk would curl under a flame. She wanted to see what happened to beautiful things when they burned…click pop click pop click pop…

…sonofa-flyin-feckshite, stupid bathroom door why din't I now later later fire snappin’ and poppin’ and everything later calm calm silent and still silent and still and drip drip drip drip drip drip sonofa -- what a man must do to wither his rest to relax to to to bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…

Never back a woomon ye’ defend, never get quit of a friend on whom ye’ depend, never make face to a foe till he's rife, and never get stuck to another man's wife. Weak stop work stop walk stop whaack. Ye’ are whom ye’ eat and only as young as the woomon ye’ feel. A stitch in thine saves mine. To the world and to Ireland she presented an authentic image of her person, so often exposed and befouled, by very reason of her beauty and her activities, to erroneous or tasty interpretations.

Daudet abhorred these useless carnivals. Stood aside watching. Forget the history of Europe. Be Miguel de Cervantes. A malignant and a turbaned Turk had come upon the river nymphs amid the dolorous and humid echo. No gossoon. What a mousse of a man he was, a pure rodent of the lowest commune defibrillator, which brought to mind a verse by Shakespeare. Ah, bear in mind this garden was enchanted! Auto da fé, auto da fé. Disdain condemns Salammbô with no possibility of appeal. But wore is the truth? Truth, whose mother is history, rival of thyme, suppository of deeds, witness of the past, exemplar and adviser to the present, and the future's counselor.

How many heartbeats in a coupling. History, the mother of truth: the idea is astounding. There is no exercise of the intellect which is not in the final analysis useless. Fame is a form of incomprehension, maybe the worst. The gloom hath rays her lump is love. And it is the fullsoot of a tarabred. Poor mundicant is he who toils in soot aflame with stryphe. Stryped stryphe being the woistest. And like a scorching pomegranate of rectumius rectitude it disappears into the portals of Uranus. Poor ole Steely Ben Dover, knew him weller than he knew.

For one man in his armor is a fat match always for any girls under shurts. Sob’s the lessons. But let yer ghost have no grievance, Lucy, were ye’ a birdie beast or a slut snoring with an impure infant on a bench ye’re better off where ye’ are, primesigned in the full of yer dress. To be a hanging clean in purty pinkenes is tanglesome of wretches who snortle a lovesong and teak ye’ riding high and feral with the parkly bench always in brains. Never a national that kind, never a darkened national. 'Twould turn ye’ against life, so 'twould. And the weather's that mean too. Fierce is the first kiss of a Jam Jar woomon, it says: I own you. And this she does, neither hungry nor beseeching simply the scrunching of a handsome face. She is multihued, flippant, engaging, sometimes wicked, almost always seditious. There'll be bluebells blowing in salty sepulchres the night she signs her final tear. No silver ash or switches for that one. While flattering candles flare. Her hair's as brown as ever it was. And wivvy and wavy. Creator he has created for his creatured ones a creation. And oh she's stylish, grandiloquently so, to forward the backward chopping guarders and the embassy emaciates of farther fame that has shown the wonders of nature's rebuke. Is it money can buy her love then, is it money then Mr. Mooney? Methinks not is her love partaken by money for the heart of this harrier can be won only in like repose, no possession nor repossession will she carry in mind. Twinkle toe the tarried coalers of Hades and dance the pervish of delight when her moon glow rises new. His clay feet, swarded in verdigrass, stick up starck where he last fellonem, by the mund of the magazine wall, where our maggy seen all, with her sisterin shawl.

If she wannna play, Drøømmel the Hetman cometh to the garbinkarin. Of the largdesfüller ye have to make a kindred shotsight to birds of squalor divine in the pond scum of ranged rovers. It's a mean chance taken she is to plait the weever ways of auldstellars. But then she awls did Thinkur knewitall and all she knewitnot. The Littleton now big snot basket of booger Manny is not too restive or Restif de la Bretonne. Il parle de la prise de la Bastille et des journées d'octobre. The Rousseau of the gutter, the Voltaire of the chambermaids. And this she commands as her nanny goats wheedlin roan of highstock trades. Oh Junischa, Junischa Lorie Lou. A neurotic subject she is at that and more or less when the plat sabbo fits. Earth-mamateat who swans about in filmy white ensembles and exists only to fulfill the fantasies of men. She jist does hope till byes will be byes. Here, and it goes on to appear now, she comes, a peacefugle, a parody's bird, a peripotmother, a pringlpik in the ilandiskippy, with peewee and powwows in beggybaggy on her bickybacky and a flick flask fleckflinging its pixylighting pacts' huemeramybows, picking here, pecking there, pussypussy plunderpussy. And a knock on the door BAM! BAM! BAM! She is livving in our midst of debt and laffing through all plores for us (her birth is uncontrollable), with a naperon for her mask and her sabboes kickin arias (so sair! so solly!) if yous ask me and I saack you.

In the entrance of a strangely lit office building, away from the few nearly infinite glass smokestacks. The floors smell of mauld. A bloodied model peers into a cracked light-bulb. A stray cat picks up the broken TV remote in their mouth and runs away. Why are ye’ aged? the man remarks. Do ye’ think he saw us? the woman thinks.

Hou! Let young wimmin run away with the story and let young mun talk smooth behind the butteler's back. Aboriginal indigenous native, formed or originating in the ployce where found the bellyochs of tumargrade and turnaround time is upon her. Nous pouvons l'aimer si nous ne tuons pas son premier.

One continuous stream of dregs made their way through an evil-smelling mass of rags, filth and ruffianism, assembled to jeer, applaud, insult and rob.

A house, a yard, a boat, wife, a bridge, a peel, a scrap, a life

Honors flash in the sommer sun, as schlitgreen corn does in the morning harlegebber. Then they gleam mature and mellow miceteeth at the time of reaping. They are bagged, slagged, zagged, perhaps by a woomon’s arm, with a cut below the scabbledy knees, set on their buttuckus for a man to sit under while eating his bilgy bread and cheese. Then they wither, and are tossed into wolf chaff by a contumelious steam engine with a leathern strap inflexible.

Sommer surprised us coming over Binn Chaorach.

In the mountains ye’ feel free, unshod as Heidi on a moorswing, but Earth is forgetful, time ticks mothwise, they flip their tails, and snuffle, and grunt take stock of one another, and she spreads out her legs, and plays for some to come and help her, then away she goes like a storm of wind, haidlong through trees and bushes, where stood a maiden dressed in black, with the moonlight sheer upon her face, white as an aspirin, the cat came by curious for mischief and off into a heavy gorsebush and stood there quivering from knob to tail in the intensity of terror, machines clanked along steam and shovel, decimation station, and waaaaoo (plea…), waaaaoo oo (please…no…), it’s a gorley bush full of misamplificated woe, a spellbind of snowblind weasel folk slipping and slooping to raise the moon for Red October. Tis a pall tyne they seek, poor sods as they. Perhaps she would marry again. And rear up another family. Who knew not.

Perhaps she would cry her eyes out. Smack a young branch. Schtook him in the face.

Pruforker rolled over and over, and dug himself a rabbithole of sand, and dead leaves, and moss. There Jimmy lay on his back and prayed to Uranus while pluggin’ ‘is soundly. Moyther cried. Favther died. Life pussed on. He luked through the trees and saw only a squinting squirrel. He saw two immense black eyes full upon him, tenderly touched by the moonlight, and he felt a schlimy wet thing like a sponge poking away at his rear station. The rodent horde was on him. Digging and churning and and and nibbling slap nibbling slap slap slapppppppp…

How could ye’ serve me so beastly burdens. Wit away away away. Nautical winds wail thee. Hear the plaintive cry of yer sommer fairmaiden. Tis all it is and more than a millsbucket. Jarl Titmouse came up from the Partridge Poof to keep Rufius Halliotosis company. So the two had all the great whole diddlywap dinner table to themselves entirely. John, as the auld friend, sat on his haid at the haid, and the doctor sat by his right hand on his left keeping his right cocked for rapidimo fire. Although there were few men in the world with the profundity of mind and diversity. The dainty pliė turns of thought. The pas de poisson. The lacework. The intricacies. The entanglements. The hint of mint. The infinitely rich original mind and auld reading, which made Jarl Titmouse’s company a forest for to wander in and be amazed. A tableaus of pleasure. Though Rufius Halliotosis; sore, stiff, and in the back aching, thought he had rarely come across so very dry a person what has very little physical force and has no chance of penefornitrating any parts or materials.

His eyes doesflip open when the beautiful blonde nubile nubbly girl strips for us. Tender Mercies and she is our little shining starshiner. Sexy photo gallery art. When she takes off her tiny red thingitty thong. She. She. And then she. Then she then she does the most amazing thing. The sight of her striking naked body sprawled on the bed is just…just…just…Too auld and crusted are we not worthy by half. Mr. Titmouse had labored hard, but vainly, to persuade her to…to…and…then…

No, she declared, I never, well, hardly ever, no, the black idea of even working in the auld friend’s company is unraveling some dark skein my skin melts from me.

Beauties so excessive could not but enjoy the privileges of eternal novelty. The condition of flash was not included as a possibility. Her thighs were so exquisitely fashioned, that either more or less flesh than they had would have removed them from perfection. Steady as she goes. But what infinitely enriched and adorned them, was the sweet intersection formed where they met at the bottom of the smoothest roundest whitest belly, by that central furrow which nature had sunk there, between the soft relievo of two pouting ridges, and which, in this girl, was in perfect symmetry of delicacy and miniature with the rest of her frame. The Negro mouthed a thumb and pokked her downy spring moss. Her eyes lit fire. Mouth ran circles. All the men want to press their mouths into my vagina and the crack of my behind. The piston becomes exposed fluid spraying outward. Flow rate, velocity and spray profile very difficult to predict. The auld man was impatient now she was skeining off ailyoly and away from his lecheronymous grasp, sweating like a pregnant nun. Of course he was sorry for her. Moreso for him. For him that getteth not. For him that wanders itinerated and cauldsodded turning new leaf gone petrificationated as a duty to arboreal ethos. Coarse language! Grampupus is fallen down but grinny sprids the boord. Whase on the joint of a desh? Finfoefom the Fush. Whase be his baken head? Some votary of our selfconscious euphemism. But show me any plainer work of the father of unbelief than want of faith in our fellow creatures. Devour thee I shall, Tender Mercies. The day tis come and night to pitter patter. Silence is a state uncongenial. A grunt. A sniffle. A chomp of the fur. A slash of the air at wance. Drink out of the river a fine sentiment and laugh with the gods. See how they step together when they dine. Away away, my pretty petals. Dusk descends us. Now under cover of plimteen nightshades he addressed himself at length to the materials of enjoyment, and lifting the linen veil that hung between her and his master member of the revels, exhibited one whose eminent size proclaimed the owner a true woomon's hero. Thus he fixed, nailed, this tender creature, with his home-driven wedge, so that she lay passive by force, and unable to stir, till beginning to play a strain of arms against this vein of delicacy, as he urged the to-and-fro confriction, he awakened, roused, and touched her so to the heart, that unable to contain herself, she could not but reply to his motions, as briskly as her nicety of frame would admit, till the raging stings of the pleasure rising towards the point, made her wild with the intolerable sensations of it, and she now threw her legs and arms about at random, as she lay lost in the sweet transport; which on his side declared itself by quicker, eager thrusts, convulsive gasps, burning sighs, swift laborious breathing, eyes darting humid fires: all faithful tokens of the imminent approaches of the last gasp of joy. It came on at length: the baronet led the ectasy, which she critically joined in, as she felt the melting symptoms from him, in the nick of which, gluing more ardently than ever his lips to hers, he shewed all the signs of that agony of bliss being strong upon him, in which he gave her the finishing titillation; inly thrilled with which, we saw plainly that she answered it down with all effusion of spirit and matter she was mistress of, whilst a general soft shudder ran through all her limbs, which she gave a stretch out, and lay motionless, breathless, dying with dear delight; and in the height of its expression, showing, through the nearly closed lids of her eyes, just the edges of their black, the rest being rolled strongly upwards in their ectasy; then her sweet mouth appeared languish-ingly open, with the tip of her tongue leaning negligently towards the lower range of her white teeth, whilst natural ruby color of her lips glowed with heightened life. This was a subject to dwell upon. The charmful waterloose country and the two quitewhite villagettes who hear show of themselves so gigglesomes minxt the follyages, the prettilees! Penetrators are permitted into the museomound free. Who has bolted his worm, or the robin over his spider’s eggs? I see many pleasant faces thus I know I am unbound. Loose me yer gaulden bands of tongue that I may lay in yer Elysian meadows. Warm the manner from my loins. Kiss the moment of photosynthesis. The dance of twisted pain. The lash that strikes bauldly at my flesh. Know me through my glass of port merely as a corrective to the sherry of the morning. A beautiful girl I saw tonight. But I don’t wish to see much more beauty in that way. Nearly cost me my life and thrice in short supply. Speak Latin or Greek but assaileth me no more, young shadow vixen. Pixie on to greener pesters.

From fairest creatures we desire increase. Thereby beauty's rose might never die. But as the reaper should by time decease. His tender heir might bear his memory. Pity the world, or glutton be. To eat the world's due, by the grave and thee. And so the general of hot desire was sleeping by a virgin hand disarm'd. Love's fire heats water, water cools not love. Smoke generated by fire, walls, ceilings, doors, sources of heat, lights, chemical oxygen generators, electrical equipment, igniting compartments, did she need? She did ne, did she did she? Ne but tork it she did despite and wheretofore, an aloishus nature she had, so had her sainted mother said on words of death depriving. Listen daughter dearest did not. Wound ne. Curd ne. Isamargin for market squares she unfaulded, unteatled, nair had not teat as child was, no teat, no screed, no heed for need not. Four point six point one point two point three, neat as pins in cushions or trees. A house on a hill overluking the sea, clouds aloud in shrouds displays, tweet tweets and whistle scratch, bring all ye got, bring all ye’ catch, maulded and thermoformed parts will play, conviver the foil, conbibber away, smoke or flames by internal fault.

The crossing was over. They were arriving. Pulled from south wiwble cotingales and spit on land. Detritus of Mother Ocean. The movement of the twitlittle steamer that had collected the passengers from the scagboat drove the raw air against Marianna’s face. In her tired brain the grey river and the flat misty shores slid constantly into a febrision of the gaslit dining-room at home the large clear glowing fire, the sounds of the family voices. Every effort to obloterate the picture brought back again the forendous moment that had come at the dinner table as they all sat silent for an instant with downcast mourning eyes and she had an immodiate and studden scrimpulse to go on forevereverever just sitting there with them all. A red tongue will destroy a healthy haid.

Now, in the boat she wanted to be free free free as a nakkid babby rooning and clooming and speletering onto shores of carnal rapturization for the strange grey river and the grey shores. But the homescenes recurred relentlessly plottering and crippling against her aching skull. Again and again she went through the last moments the oh so sad goodbyes, the communicative promises to be broken, the unexpected convulsive force of her mother’s arms, her weakfish inability to give any answering embrace, cauld as deadfish at ocean’s floor. She was silentstiff as a nun.

There had been a feeling that came like a tide carrying her away much like the hotly engraded times in the steamy lower quarters with Bruno the family hound. Talk she will not but carrieth the steaming memory betwixt and between her nethers. Eager and dumb and remorseful and a might dewy she had gone out of the house and into the cab, and then had come the long sitting in the flooptrain. Fire-flies hung in bright clusters on the dewy leaves that waved in the cool night-wind; and the flowers stood gazing in very wonder at the little Elves who lay. And then a long waiting and the brown leather strap swinging against the yellow grained door, the smell of dust and the dirty wooden flooring, with the noise of the wheels underneath going to the swinging strains of jazzabilly. The train had made her sway with its movements. Nothing had come but strange cruel emotions and quivering legs in salacious remembrance.

After the suburban train nothing was distinct until the warm snowflakes was drifting against her face through the cauld darkness on the quay. Then, after what seemed like a great loop of time spent going helplessly up a gangway towards the world she had stood, face to face with the pale polite stewardess in her cabin. I had better…, she said, feeling suddenly stifled with fear. She had a launderee list of fears; Ithyphallophobia is not one of them. Visitors can wander through dewy tea plantations and bamboo forests, or swim in a reservoir to the buzz of cicadas. When ye’ manage to capture the… Beautiful is a feeling. It’s presence of mind, a strong body, a glow from the inside out. It's being comfortable in yer own skin. It's a lifestyle. Dewy skin is set to be a major trend for spring, which means it would serve ye’ well to start working on perfecting it now. Wild possessed she pulled her knees to her ample breastages so that anyone could see her lace-covered furry flower, exposed in all of its moist glory. She removed her dainties and hung them on the bedpost. I’ve wanted a dewy luk for a long time, and I’m 25 years auld! I wouldn’t do the sheer lipstick, but is there anything wrong with my having lively woomon parts?

For hours she had laid despairing, watching the slowly swaying walls of her cabin or sinking with closed eyes through invertebrate dipping spaces. Afore each releasing paroxysm she tauld herself this is again remembering me to Bruno, good company, warm tongue, animal impulses, pummeled me to exhaustion, unloaded wave upon wave upon wave upon wave upon wave … Still have scratches on my hips, buttocks, and upper thighs. Dripped for one week. Her agile hands wandered south and found her center cleftbud. Prodded her wet flower. Three squeezes later she was onfire.

She wanted to draw herself upright and take off her clothes, find a wandering seadog and impanted become. She had a launderee list of fears; Ithyphallophobia was not one of them.

They were nearing a little low quay backed by a tremendous saffron-colored signpost announcing in black letters BENDOVER POINT.

…breathlessness, excessive sweating, nausea, dry mouth, feeling sick, shaking, coronary heart palpitations, inability to talk or think clearly, a fear of dying becoming mad or losing control, a sensation of detachment from reality, nicks, cuts, abrasions and other flaws, a full blown anxiety attack.

Music plays like rain falling delicate as shards of metal echoing in a cave and joined by whispered words. Welcoming and walloping at the same time. Marianna cared not filled of gases or vapors, even so, attention must be given, attention must be given, lest it sway and snap sending all afoul, airtight she be, airtight she remain. Clancy wance had tried, with nary the luck, to force his hand, force it full and swearing cussed till gave up he did at smoke detected, her eyes aflamed, exhausting the cooling air, ensuring her compartment remains free, from harmful or hazardous concentrations. To the market she twaddles, her sweet lamb at her heels, airtight equipment secure unfondled, non-airtight equipment shall not comply, the goods, goods so blessed long afore this wondrous moment stops, fire retardant to recrude the propaflation of flames originating, perpestuating, so good, so good, so blessed, metallic housings undesirable, impractical, adequate barrier, physical separation, openings secured, no forced cooling allowed, seat box shroud cooling holes, divine, heroic, human, barbarism, storia ideale eterna, common to every nation.

Black night.

Screaming sunrise.

The briny sea.

Perched atop the rolling soils, mind adrift, all ardor about nothing. But that night after, ye’ were wanton! Yer passions seared into me inner and outer skein. Bidding me do this and that and the other. Abandoned at fifty-nine in the infancy of my youth, just learning to crawl, surrounded by young gravids, eyes afire loins attuned to scented melodies, Johann Sebastian Bach swelling along, contrapuntal whispers, bouncing bass runs below, familiar with all beautiful forms and images, with all that is sweet or majestic in the simple aspects of nature, of that indestructible love of flowers and fragrance, and dews, and clear waters and soft airs and sounds, and bright skies and woodland solitudes, and moonlight bowers, the material elements of poetry, and with that fine sense of their indefinable relation to mental emotion, which is its essence and vivifying soul, and which, in the midst of her most busy and tragical scenes, falls like gleams of sunshine on rocks and ruins, contrasting with all that is rugged or repulsive, and reminding us of the existence of purer and brighter elements. And she and her train rode off down the moonbeams. Come with me, and I will give ye’ faeries to attend on you. So she called four faeries, whose names were Peesplash, Snotweb, Maggot, and Mustardgas.

Inhibit propagation of a fire from the lower lobe area to the over-ceiling space. Lingua mentale commune, universale fantastico. The self-indulgent aristo, the ci-devant Lepter, brasquath thine cunt onto mine thighs. Squaddid who had expiated his villainies upon the guillotine was known to have been successful in abstracting the bulk of his ill-gotten wealth concealed in a turbulent third world cesspool of infamy. There was a stoon outside his hutch, a tall grey speckled stoon. It seemed to like him and was friendly and maybe had been seeing him going by and took interest in his flatwallerasshed. He liked to go by the stoon in the mornings and leave it there like a friend waiting for when he got back. But come back he did not thereby and therefore his wheretofore was uncompopulated in heretofortitude.

Out beyond the bone inflicted islands, the sea lay heavily calm done now with fierce pounding. Many a time he had stood and luked at it from the hills, far up above, a wisp of Icarus obtaining. On a calm day, the ships seemed hardly to move at all, he could see the same sail for three days, small and white, like a gull on the water. Then, perhaps, if the wind veered round, the peaks in the distance would almost disappear, and there came a storm, the south-westerly gale, a play for him to stand and watch. All things in a seething mist. Earth and sky mingled together, the sand flew up into fantastic dancing figures of menandhorses , fluttering banners in the air. Loud disturbing banners. Lepter Squaddid, trembling, stood in the shelter of an overhanging rock, thinking many things. His soul was tense. Eyeing in the near distance a hot piece of precious pie that his tastings were coming to the rise. Walking and luking and luking and walking around the damp dirty grimy and what the heck is that oh my god a pile of shit big bleeping dog shit and all I wanted to do was go out for some fresh air and this is no good at all just another sad lump of shit added to the collection of wandering refuse, duck under this rock, her, keep thinking of her, perfection, gaze upon her, Marianna, perfection personified, radiant beauty surrounds, the face, the hair, the legs, the legs!! This fine parcel of tender flesh is rocking the Kasbah and she is all too conspicuous, can't get too far lost in thought without her picture blasting into my mind, full color, with a scent all her own my nostrils are drugged with fiery lust, a hot wind blows in from the desert, dusty crusty desiccated things blow in the swirl, the scent a, a, stench…a…a…familiar…papaya! holy crap feck it's the smell of papaya, I mean, I don't, and now it come to me on hot magical breeze, a swirling cloud of papaya, Trousers pooled round the ankles inhibit running. The rock was falling. He would soon be no more. Aye Crap! I am watching the sea open afore my eyes. Maybe I am seeing the inner brain of earth, how things are at work there, boiling and foaming. And never a cry, never a human voice to be haird anywhere. Nothing. Only the heavy rush of the wind about his thorny haid. A scattered talus. Not solifluction.

FFFFFFEEEEECCCCCKKKKK!!!

When the sea raged up over it the water towered like a crazy screwball yangamuffin. Poseidon rising wet in the air and snorting till hair and beard stood out like a whirlpool circling his haid. Then he plunged down into the breakers wance more lusting after honeys untended, unprotected from the likes of scungilli crawling skitter fecks for whose diet of sand crabs and horseshoe crabs and Bristol worms he has raided the African plate, Australian plate, Antarctic plate, the North and South American plate, the Eurasian plate and Pacific plates. Much as he raided the sweetbush of the unsuspecting Medusa in her time of youth and purity. The girl, spreading herself to the best advantage with her haid upon the stoon pillow was so concentered that his presence was the least of her care and concern. Her petticoats thrown up with her shift discovered to him the finest turnup legs and thighs that could be imagined and in broad display gave a full view of that delicious cleft of flesh into which the pleasing hair grown mount over it parted and presented a most inviting entrance between two close haidges delicately soft and pouting. And after raping her in Athena’s temple the angry Goddess cursed the unfortunate girl by turning her gorgeous locks into snakes and caused any who gazed upon this snake haided girl to turn to stoon. Poseidon had tripped into the ineluctable modality of the ineluctable visuality. Turned to stoon at first sighting. Thus a stoon bled shardiwhamper and warm meltcaps did run wild and free, deep encoiled in sweet maidenpurity.

And in the midst of the storm, a little coal-black steamer fights its way in Milkoozing gumboots. Slimeheavy trails. Where a spright slip n slide runway.

Many people had gathered on the quayside to see the black thing churningtowards, frozen in sight. All without exception had violet tinted eyes, however different they might be. A young girl with a white kerchief over her haid stood a little apart. With her forestdark hair the white kerchief stood out against it in high contrast. She luked at Bradan McManus curiously, at his leather suit, his trouser bulge. When he spoke to her, asked her name, she was embarrassed, and turned her haid away. And this the only scarf I could find so I’m feeling the fool. He may be a prancer ye’ know. It’s a tipped scale. Her legs went rubbery. And spent speech ceased. Honeywaters flow purling, widely flowing, flower unfurling. The girl is attractive. No doubt pure. Tasty. McManus was carnally intrigued. There exists a field, beyond all notions of right and wrong. I will meet ye’ there.

Ye’ luk warm, said McManus.

It’s springtime; I’m walking in the spring.

He had walked past her with an air—slowly, carelessly, unperturbed; he had even found strength to measure Analine Plott with a downward glance. But no sooner had she passed out of sight than he slipped aside into the greatdarkforest. And on his mind Analine, Auld Chester Plotts’s daughter. Analine, tall and brown, and showing her snowwhite teeth a little when she smiled. Analine whom Eros had led across his path. Analine who had restored his faith. She who had taken the clustered pieces of his broken life and shuffled them into some order. And tomorrow, perhaps, she would be going away. All hope gone. I am but slavering gabboon.

Two nights scrambling had not got me a poke that made me bauld enough to make advances to this modest quiet girl I stole me a sweet tongue a kiss then another then a hug then a feel and finally with scarcely any hindrance had her we walked and talked soon enough I had her again up against me own garden wall and we and we and we…parted petals plunging pilasters oozing sliding moaning squealing jetting blasting promising to meet the next night the next night came she was gone about a towning.

He gave himself wantonly without clothing and ate with relish the inner organs of beasts and fowls, thick giblet soup, nutty gizzards, a stuffed roast heart, liverslices fried with crustcrumbs, fried hencods' roes, and younguns testicles. Most of all he liked grilled mutton kidneys which gave to his palate a fine tang of faintly scented urine.

Alive and well alive and well, so was the station of passage and gloom some say doom but then those some are no account and not worth the withers and trithers of a common shite pirgeon. Coming back to this particular train station, there was van Pew waiting as he always minded to be of sorts. Wance afore van Pew had reminded Melanie, that past was past, and what was done was over; she had much better go away and live somewhere else with Nutt Lopez. And Schmelitt van Pew had answered that he should not have to ask her twice—goodbye! But now here she smirked again, waiting for him.

Here's that smoking pouch I promised you, she said. Here it is, if ye’re not too proud.

He did not take it, but answered, A smoking pouch? I never use that sort of thing.

Oh, is that so? said she, and drew back her hand.

Yes, he could go to a shindig and wipe out the whole shebang with his shillelagh.

And he forced himself to soften her again. It can't be me ye’ promised it. Think again; perhaps it was the priest. And he's a married man.

She did not understand that the slight jest had cost him some effort, and she could not refrain from answering in turn, I saw the ladies up along the road; I suppose that's where you've been, trooling after them?

And what's that to do with you?

Ove Fungin is it?

Oona dos Tres. Why don't ye’ go pester a lucky one somewhere out and away? I'm living my life, ye’re living yer own so if ye’re tightknickers to my way of living, well, go somewhere far and away. Ye’ can see for yerself it's no good going on like this.

It would be right as rain if only ye’ wouldn't go swinging yer shillelawanger around all the wimminfolk like ye’re such a jewel.

The jewel that first drew yer wet sweetness to him, he snarled, backturned and walked away.

Bradan McManus called after him, Oh yes ye’ are a nice one, indeed! There's this and that I've haird about you!

Now was there any sense at all in being so desperately particular? There was no sense in going on like this forever. A most bumptious ass van Pew whose family wealth gave him a sense of entitlement lacking restraint or modesty; a forward child badly in need of discipline.

Here's to ye’ van Pew. My weapon is out. Quarrel! I will back thee.

Melanie, not dulled to the mating dance, luked his way, hoping faintly that she might witness the unleashing of a spectacular prize specimen. Alas, no flesh was in the offing. If ye’ do bare the sword, my dear, I will shine it for ye’ sweetly, she thought.

Few media heroes had on-screen wives. Any time one seriously courted a woomon, she died from a malady, was abruptly slain, or left with someone else.

The Music of Violins began to play, during which came in upon the Stage six wild men clothed in leaves. Of whom the first bore in his neck a fagot of small sticks, which they all both severally and together assayed with all their strengths to break, but it could not be broken by them. At the length one of them plucked out one of the sticks and broke it. And the rest plucking out all the other sticks one after another did easily break, the same being severed: which being conjoined they had afore attempted in vain. After they had this done, they departed the Stage, and the Music ceased. Hereby was signified, that a state knit in unity doth continue strong against all force. But being divided is easily destroyed. As befell upon Duke Blunderball dividing his Land to his two sons which he afore held in Monarchy. And upon the dissention of the Brethren to whom it was divided. First, the Music of Cornets began to play, during which came in upon the Stage a king accompanied with a number of his Nobility and Gentlemen. And after he had ployced himself in a Chair of estate prepared for him: there came and kneeled afore him a grave and aged Gentleman and offered up a Cup unto him of Wine in a glass, which the king refused. After him comes a brave and lusty young Gentleman and presents the king with a Cup of Gauld filled with potion, which the king accepted, and drinking the same, immediately fell down dead upon the stage, and so was carried thence away by his Lords and Gentlemen, and then the Music ceased. Hereby was signified, that as Glass by nature hauldeth no poison, but is clear and may easily be seen through, ne boweth by any Art: So a faithful Counselor hauldeth no treason, but is plain and open, ne yieldeth to any indiscreet affection, but giveth wholesome Counsel, which the ill-advised Prince refuseth. The delightful gauld filled with poison betokeneth Flattery, which under fair seeming of pleasant words beareth deadly poison, which destroyeth the prince that receiveth it. As befell in the two brethren Cantle and Porridge who, refusing the wholesome advise of Blunderball Court fellows, credited these young Parasites and brought to themselves death and destruction thereby. Thusly General Gasmore marched into the sea, squatting precariously on the humped back of his tulip fringed pachyderm escort, the bitter excrement of defeat raging from his inflamed bowels, the state constitutional conventions forged and gathered the searing masses in violent renunciation of all things opposed.

Charge!! was the all too familiar phrase, spouted between mouthfuls of mushmelon and gator-beans, rivers of seltzer lemonade pouring from the negatively creased mouths of the secessionists, until at last, kumquats and kiwi burgers devoured, the weary and sexually deprived troops, dragged their pathetically sorry behinds back over the putrid hills of rotting flesh, home wance more to their families, lovers, three-dollar hookers, and unbounded formalities of ill repute.

But what was a bad, downward spiraling day for some was a pinnacle of drunken blind happiness for others, as General Eggfarts, his mile-high-carbide-steel-retrofitted erection rising high above the battered soil, the tattered flag of the Golfers’ Union Jackass swinging wildly from its puffed, red tip, greeted the victory sluice with advancing self congratulatory zeal, spotted out the stains in his rancid undergarments, shook the bush weasels from his nostrils, rejoiced in all that was wance God’s now become mans’ and in that blush of sweet devotion, kissed himself on the pustulent big toe of his lame right foot. This here’s to you, Lucy, he said, stroking his massive penis as birds of prey dropped out of the sky from fright. And in short measure, I’ll