PS 4 by Wilhelm Fingerfood
January 11, 2010
January 7, 2010
January 5, 2010
Forbidden Love
Forbidden Love by Wilhemina T. Fricklfrakle
To the Shark of my wildest desires,
I miss you. Barely I know you, but I know I miss you. I saw you past
the waves, under foam moving with an incomprehensible weightless
grace. If I got close enough, if I could swim under that spindled
pacific seaweed would I make it to you? I’ve never stopped wondering
how you do it: Breath underwater.
From cliffs edge I’m watching you fold and lean into undercurrent and
I fold and lean thinking of being currently under you (if that’s how
it works with sharks).
Love, twice,
Deer
___________________________
Dear Deer,
That sinking failure of your fall forever, for me, I cannot bear. Its
not that I couldn’t love you, but It’d never work. I see it now; you
drowning in a despair weighted by fur and flank and no length of my
love could buoy you to a certain surface. What I am trying to say is,
an ocean is no place for a dear.
Adieu,
Shark
P.S. Gills.
__________________________
My loveliest most precious Shark,
It can’t hurt to try, or rather; it will hurt forever if we never try.
We are so close to perfection. If my love was measured in tears I’ve
filled oceans for you. Also, I am taking snorkeling classes in the
fall.
Yours, always always always,
Deer
_____________________
Deer,
Consider this my valedictory letter. Aside from the actual logistical
complications in the matter, I’m seeing someone else and our continued
discourse is an affront to the developing affair. I marry Bear this
winter.
Shark
_____________________
Dear Shark,
Yourself and family are invited to attend the funeral of Deer, at
Harris Funeral Home (Berkley CA), on Wednesday the 20th of October at
7PM.
My deepest regards,
Wolf
A Tribute to Old Blue Eyes
Old Blue Eyes by Erik Koster
A man and his bear can be the best of friends for almost a life time. At least that’s what the old tales say. Old Blue Eyes was a friend, a friend of great strength and fortitude, who assisted in the defeat of the mighty Devilsaur. As I understand it, the Devilsaur, while not common in these parts, is like the great white shark of dinosaurs. Life won’t be the same without that crazy old bear. And, truth be told, I’m not so sure we’d want to be. You see, you can trade a bear for a bug named stinky if you want, or you can maybe have a crocodile of some sort called a crocostimpy. It’s your call, really, do whatever you like. While you may trade the physical part of that bear away, well some of it always stays with you. In your heart. You know, in there, metaphorically, not in a real way. So it is to you, Old blue eyes that we raise our glass. You were a trusted friend, a strong ally, and you could always make us laugh with your sounds of the forest knock-knock joke series.
The Great White of Dinosaurs by Erik Koster
December 29, 2009
An Issue with driving
Hello Faithful Readers,
How are things going over there? Well? That’s great. Really, it is. For you. I’m serious, its nice that you’re doing so well. Want to know how I’m doing? Well I’m so very glad you asked. Here’s the deal, kiddies. Today I was driving and happened to notice that I’m behind a Ford Mustang. The Mustang in question was grey and had a vanity license plate. The plate read, and I’m not kidding when I say this, this is as true as I ever get, “TEH WOLF.” That’s right. TEH WOLF.
My hatred of vanity plates has been well documented. I can understand the desire to personalize your vehicle, or to send a message, but to me, doing it on a piece of metal meant as a means of communicating the fact that you’ve paid money to the government so they’ll let you drive is not the best way. It would be like writing “NO BLOOD FOR OIL” on your driver’s license. But TEH WOLF goes beyond my normal hatred.
You see, there are 3 things at work here which bother me. 1) This person has named either themself or their car “TEH WOLF.” Not only is this wrong, which I’ll get into later, but it is also the sort of thing only an asshole would do. Assholes name things “TEH WOLF.” 2) They used the phrase “TEH WOLF” which means that either they did that on purpose or the license plate “THE WOLF” was already taken! That’s terrible, maybe the most terrible thing ever. And ) Assuming they are calling themselves TEH WOLF that’s stupid since they’re human, do you call your tacos blankets? Assuming they’re calling their car TEH WOLF that too is stupid since its both a car and named after a HORSE. Taco blankets. If, perhaps, they had chosen to name the car or themselves WOLF it would be different, as that would be like renaming yourself rather than reclassifying yourself in a different biological order.
Had this happened with a turtle I couldn’t care, but since it falls into the realm of wolf I feel it’s important that someone speak out. Look, wolves are mostly extinct and it is of my opinion that his asshole should be charge with some sort of crime for further endangering them by association.
Thank you for your time.
December 15, 2009
Cryptozoology
Cryptozoology
by Robb Olson
The scruffy hipsters who worked at the uber-trendy coffee shop all knew the guy was crazy. He wandered around town with a sleeping bag and a backpack, carrying an old milk jug full of water. His hair was dreadlocked from not being washed, and his beard was epic.
He wandered around town, and were it not for the erratic outbursts of “Find the shark!” and mumbling to himself, you would never know that he could speak at all.
They all knew his drink, and would get it ready when he walked in. They felt bad charging him, so they would take money out of the tip jar, or just say ‘fuck it’ and not ring it up.
Every day, he would take his drink – a small coffee in a large cup – and make a “ghetto latte” by filling the cup the rest of the way with milk at the ‘fixins’ area. Then he’d grab a fistful of napkins and sit outside, observing the busy morning commuters.
A petite young woman, an elementary school teacher from the looks of her, would go by. “deer” he would whisper, and make a jagged hash-mark next to the word DEER on a napkin.
Others would be different animals. The smartly dressed young professional on his iPhone is a “wolf”, and the overweight lumberjack of a police officer ticketing an illegally parked BMW is a “bear”.
He’d continue this random trend of people-labeling until the crowd died down and there was nobody left to observe. Finally, he would dejectedly leave, muttering about “…ever gonna find it.”
Shark Guy was in rare form this day. He was very animated, head swiveling in all directions, scribbling furiously on his napkins. He was even interacting with people as they passed. The new librarian at the community college was heading to work when Shark Guy jumped up and jutted his hand out to her. “Deer! deer. deeeeeeeeer,” He said with a toothless grin, attempting to shake her hand. She rushed away, startled. Unperturbed, he continued his vaguely zoomorphic cataloging of the population.
Inside the coffee shop, a young and heavily tattooed girl looked at the clock.
“Shark Guy is workin it today. Usually he’s outta here by now.”
The other barista chuckled and called tattoo girl over.
“check out this latte art.” He said, indicating a new design he was working on.
“Another leaf? “
“Dude, this is a heart.”
Looks like a leaf to-“
A terrific scream punctuated their conversation. They looked up in time to see Shark Guy flop to the ground, screaming in agony. After a few seconds, he was dragged out of view by something unseen.
The baristas scrambled around the counter and out the door. Shark guy was nowhere to be seen… there was just a trail of blood that ended suddenly at the corner of the building.
“Oh shit.” Whispered Tattoo Girl. “I think he mighta found the shark.”
November 19, 2009
Bear Down!
Erik Koster reminds us that not some bears are Blue and Orange.
Bear Down! by Erik Koster
