Predictable Gumption

By Khulubian Kutzky

Predictable Gumption is a rhyming tale of a young child who is to his own displeasure sent to the looney bin for a questionably dark poem he has written. A world domination scheme eventually ensues, but between incarceration and domination we get a glimpse into some very odd alien based outlooks on life, education and humanity as a whole. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Inner Alien
• Release date: Apr 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393593829

Khulubian Kutzky

Khulubian Kutzky is a rhyming pimp from the planet of Khulubia. Cautiously he chose to accept his summoning to earth and has built his initial hideout in the often overlooked eastern coast of Canada. Mostly a recluse; he choses to bide his time by skateboarding, shit talking and participating in various artforms of which writing is his favourite. He hopes one day we will collectively turn this paradise into the utopia he seems to think it could be but until then he has asked to wish you all well on your respective journeys and to retain some sort of hope for the future.

Book preview

PREDICTABLE GUMPTION

Chapter 1

The misery I’ve eagered’ but to taste this dagger, seasoned souls it’d stagger. Might this be the quench of a lifetime, lifetime hasn’t this been my quest................... Young mustache was I like any, useless, toothless, eyes of plenty. Sour to their stench was what struck me queer. Long wishing wish, I’d wish to hear, someone say something, from not their rear. Blithering babbles, loved like rare literature by each. Their state of simplicity something I never dared reach.

Born in the sceptics of this spiraling spaceship; North ‘Murica, as is preferred by the unpreferrables. February second, twenty oh seven,  Aquarius to the common, Pisces Ascendant 22 to the few who clue. Parents were plain sort, translation: misery. Bores, brainwashed, with the basic be kind and mind not your mind malarkey. So many of you brainwashed so boggle me it did, be you to brainwash, why not indulge & include a comedy for yourself?  I’d convince the clueless lobotomizing & transplanting excrements would cause two pots of gold and a Disco Volante to appear. You’d have to have shit for brains to believe such barbarity, and so they would. The Alpha Romero is tempting, though irrelevant entirely this be.

As is common, I was commandeered into schooling. A collective of seeming coherent rambles, accused of crucial by an inutile. ‘Course lapped and loved, and into muzzles shoved, were these by an awful many. Quickly obvious it became to me I was destined but more misery. My colleagues, collages of cartoons, boogers, and various berry flavoured juices, while my superiors concluded me useless in making decisions other than favoring the color spectrum. Purple, fuchsia, turquoise. Insulting these expectations of my ability, not a wonder why wisdom so scarce on virility.

Luckily birthed was I in a technological high. By age seven I had seen things I couldn’t understand, done by naked humans in Japan. How grapes flew, from what I thought I knew, not to be a projection intersection struggled my mind. More importantly answers I did find, for why so far from behind were the thoughts in my mind. To the common, I am an alien, to the few who clue, starseed, Arcturian, Carrian descent. What a dreadful realization, of course I am not the first, many centuries we’ve taken form of the ‘norm’ to come and inform. Newton, Nardwuar, Tone Tank, Tesla, Freud, Einstein, Bowie, Richie Jackson. The list is of length. Now not all knew they were alien. But all were boundary breaking, bizarre method birthing brainiacs, bestowing inner oddities, no substance, no seclusion, or self delusion could shake. Not fitting in might suck. Not having any friends is claimed to be dangerous. But knowing you’ll never have either because you’re not a fucking retard..... that is true misery. Amongst a sea of simpletons we are sent to be stuck sticking out in. Quickly complaining is found futile. Certainly not the same can be said of the inutiles.

Earthlings evade evolving, enduring empty existences, discontent to their dealings, as if they weren’t the dealers or worse they deny their discontentment, declaring it