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02/10/26   
Death never smelled so good

The Insomnia of Ransom Ripple

by Ulysses P. Crackbutter
bio/email
September 29, 2003
Ransom Ripple's twisted nipples
kept him from his sleep.
The night was long,
as Ransom's thong
straight up his ass would creep.

An incessant dripping
at his ears was nipping,
as it echoed from the sink.
"This noisy room
will be my doom!"
was all that he could think.

The words to a song,
like a clanging gong,
rang and jiggled his brain.
"This tune will be
the death of me!"
he was heard to complain.

He counted sheep,
then counted Jeep,
then counted jellybeans.
But then he remembered
once being dismembered…
"I wonder what that means?"

Ransom Ripple's toe was crippled
and he had to pee.
His nose did whistle
like an incoming missile,
And he thought "God please kill me!"

But just when he'd conceded
that he'd get no sleep that he needed,
and resigned himself to silently weep…
the strangest thing happened.

He dropped off into a nap and
dreamt that he couldn't fall asleep.


Quote of the Day
“No man is an island. But I have met several women I would like to live on for the rest of my life.”

-John Donne Juan
Fortune 500 Cookie
By the pricking of my thumb I have really fucked up my keyboard playing. Trust in a higher power this week—the Waffle King knows what he's doing. Why be merely happy when you could be shit-yer-drawers happy? The world is you oyster, which explains that nauseating fish smell you can't escape. Lucky hammers roofing, jack, ball peen, MC.


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