The Raccoon Killer

by Violet Tiara

November 24, 2003

On golden gilded lapis lazuli
the gnome was homely, old and plain.
Byzantine tattoos on his brain
made him think the world insane.

"Lichens liken to Vicodin dreamsâ€¦
rolled oats, old goats, matriarchs."
A Chicano girl named Rosa Parks
mumbled something in the dark.

"I am the Duke of lukewarm duke,"
he tried the title on for size.
Mercury tears welled up in his eyes,
round and hot like blueberry pies.

"I am the size of the simpleton skies?"
he ventured a stab at identity.
A raccoon laughed down from a tree
remembering something he saw on TV.

"It is no use, I have no use,
I'm decidedly uninteresting."
Bees flew by, to sting something
more interesting than he.

The sun went down like a hooker on a clown
and the night gave the gnome no relief.
He sat in the dark with his lack of a spark
as the raccoon teased "Where's the beef?"

And the morning was the same as the frogs called his name
and the dragonflies dragged things about.
The crickets sang a song and the raccoon hummed along
as the gnome thumbed all of his nose hairs in doubt.

By the noontime it was bright as the land was drenched in light
but in darkness the gnome sat darkly in despair
The raccoon said while yawning the gnome held no hope of spawning
"And by the way you are losing your hair."

Something snapped and in the shock the gnome bent and picked a rock
which with a mighty flinging fling he flung it.
And when all was done and said the raccoon was stone dead
before the gnome had really realized he'd done it.

Seeing the raccoon lying stiff though did not cause a tear of whiff
inside the gnome who rather felt quite cheery.
For he'd found it, don't you see? Finally found a thing to be.
"Raccoon Killer? Now that doesn't sound so dreary!"

Quote of the Day

“Patriotism is the last refuge of the scoundrel. The second to last refuge of the scoundrel is a cave in the Ozarks. Third to last? Under the bed in a four-star hotel in Paris. Fourth? Puns. Puns are the fourth-to-last refuge of the scoundrel.”

-Johnuel Samson

Fortune 500 Cookie

Whoever cut your jib, they fucked it all up, dude. Try wearing more spandex this week, your current quantities aren't providing sufficient coverage. Remember: an ounce of prevention is worth an inch of milk-fed veal. This week's lucky pizza restaurant mascots: The Noidette, Little Greaser, Humpy the Pizza Camel, "Cheese Dick" Richard Romano, Lumpy-Thighed Sex Goddess Valotta Ricotta.

Try again later.

Top Five Worst Things to Hear in an Iraqi Prison

1.	"Oh, wow! Hold still, let me get my camera!"
2.	"From now on, the conduct of corrections officers will be supervised by Private Pyle."
3.	"Looks like we're going to be here a while. Good thing I brought my harmonica."
4.	"These tattoos? Aryan Brotherhood."
5.	"And another thingâ€”you jokers have cried 'Rape!' once too often. I'm not falling for it anymore."

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