Sunday, May 30

So I'm out taking my balloon of destiny for a walk. It might be broken. I don't feel any different today at all. I just have a balloon now.

Twenty children named Charles all swarm around me and start chattering. I know their names are all Charles because they all have nametags on and they keep saying Charles over and over again. I wonder if that's all they can says. And some of them are girls.

"Whoa!" I say. "Whoa!"

"Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles," they all chatter excitedly.

"What's up kids?" I hold my balloon high so they can't get at it. They reach for it like it's some sort of Space Candy they've been waiting for. "Okay, stop. That's weird, and those are my pockets. And one of you just stepped on my cape. Stop. Really."

They don't stop chattering Charles or grabbing at me and kind of gently tugging on my clothes. So I start walking away. But they stick right to me. I have a circle of children around me and I don't know what they want. I start walking faster, but they walk just as fast.

"Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles.harles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles.harles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles.harles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles.harles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles.harles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles.harles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles.harles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles.harles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles." The name Charles has never been more meaningless as it has right now.

I run for it, my balloon bobbing crazily in the wind. I'm a faster runner than these kids, but not by much. I am wearing huge rubber boots. We run down the paved trail of the park, exit the park through the big stone entrance way, then down the street. Twenty children in hot pursuit. I don't think this has ever happened to me before. I turn a corner quickly and run into some bushes in front of a house. I pull the balloon down and hug it close to my chest. I wait.

"Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles. Charles." I hear them running, their adorable sneakers beating the pavement, coming closer and closer.

Now they're right in front of the house. They stop, susipicious, but I don't think they see me.

A woman comes out from inside the house. She's wearing a big sun bonnet and gardening gloves. "Oh, Hi Charles!" she calls and waves to the children. They reply with louder calls of their name.

Please keep running, please don't see me in the bush. But they just stand there, looking around intently. I can see them through the bush. I'm still not sure if they see me.

The woman kneels down in front of the bush I'm hiding behind. She starts digging with a small gardening shovel. "Don't worry," she whispers to me. "Just stay real still. They'll be gone soon." And I stay still, and now they're leaving. I realize I hadn't been breathing. Sure feels nice to breathe again. "They're gone," says the woman in the sun bonnet.

"Thanks," I tell her, standing up. I continue holding the balloon close to my chest.

"Yeah, those kids can be kind of... is that what I think it is?" And she points to the balloon.

I don't know whether I should tell her or not. "Nice day, huh?"

"Sure. Is that a balloon of destiny?"

"Um." She's looking at me pretty intensely. Like she might try to take it or something. "No. It's just a regular balloon. Thanks for the help." I start walking away accross her lush green lawn.

"You're not fooling anyone," she calls after me. "You're sure you don't want to stay for some grilled cheese sandwiches?" But I keep walking, balloon clutched tightly.

As I walk people from inside houses open their windows and stare at me. Cars slow down to gawk. Weird, man. Weird.

Saturday, May 29

I wake up. It's about 9AM or so. I sit up and realize that there's someone in my room.

"Hello, Henry," says the man in the red and white striped shirt. Hands full of balloon strings, he's standing by my door staring intently at me.

"It's the Midnight Mailman," I tell him. "What are you doing in my room." I stay in bed. I'm only wearing the cape and goggles.

"I never did like that, the Midnight Mailman. What the hell does it even mean? Nothing. It means nothing. And it doesn't even flow nice. The Midnight Mailman. The Midnight Mailman."

I don't understand what's going on at all here. "So, why are you in my room? To make fun of my name?"

"Your name is Henry. That's a fine name. I had a brother named Henry. The Midnight Mailman is your pseudonym, your nick name, your alter ego. It's stupid."

"So... you're here to make fun of my pseudonym?"

"Sure. And to give you this balloon. This balloon of destiny." He picks out a large blue helium balloon, a perfect pear shaped balloon on a string. "I'll just tie it to this chair here." And he ties it to the wooden chair next to the window.

"Thanks." He's just standing there and I don't know what to say next. "Do I owe you anything for that?"

"No. That's a balloon of destiny, Henry. Enjoy" And he walks out of my room, leaving the door open.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head bobbles past and stops when he sees the balloon. "Hey, man. Nice balloon."

"Yeah. Did you let that balloon guy in the house?"

"I didn't let anyone in."

"Did you see him walk past just now?"

"Wait, are you talking about THE balloon guy? Is that a balloon of destiny?"

"What? You know him?"

"Wow, a balloon of destiny... you're one lucky guy. Or unlucky, you know, whatever the balloon wants. You better be real nice to it. I knew this one chick who got one, and she just left it in her closet and never took it out for ice cream or walks or anything, and she got all fat. I think she got one of those goiters, too. Nasty."

I'd like to get up and inspect my new balloon, but I'm still not wearing anything under these sheets. But this is exciting, a balloon of destiny. Wow. "Hey, Mr. Happy Puppet Head, could you excuse me a second?"


"I need to get dressed."

"You sleep naked?"

"No, I'm wearing a cape."

"Yeah, but if you let your junk all hang out that counts as naked."

I give him the look, the one that says get out please. And he does. I put on some pants and untie the balloon from the chair. It's all shiny and smooth. Wow. I get a spark of static electricity, it hurts, but I know my life is going to be different. Different in one of those really great sort of ways. Like not getting all fat with a goiter kind of way.

Thursday, May 27

Howie the little girl and her pet old man head are at it again. This time they've set a trap for leprechauns in their backyard. It's a complicated system of little pieces of metal they found and some strings. It all works on the assumptions that A)leprechauns exhist B)leprechauns will be wandering around Howie's backyard in May, and C)leprechauns don't usually look where they're walking.

Howie's older brother laughed at her and said leprechauns don't exhist and they usually do look where they're going. But Howie and her head set up a little leprechaun collection area made out of grass and sticks. The assumption behind that one is that leprechauns can't climb over little piles of sticks and run away.

So they wait in Howie's room looking out the window, waiting to catch a little magic Irish gnome or whathaveyou.

What are your plans once you catch a leprechaun, Howie?

"Well, we hope to catch at least two. One for me and one for Head."

What are you going to do with them once you catch them?

"You know, play with them. Have fun. Maybe go on a picnic."

That sounds great. But it takes a long time to catch leprechauns, and Howie and Head soon fall asleep. When they wake up, it is dark outside, the afternoon gone like porridge down a porridge hole. The two bestest friends in the whole world run outside to see what they caught.

They find their traps are all messed up and there aren't any leprechauns. What happened?

The bush groans. The one next to the white picket fence. Howie and Head walk over to inspect. It's Bermuda and Steve! The two-headed naked monster lies on it's back in the thick green bush. Bermuda groans again.

"What's wrong?" asks Howie the little girl.

"Hi, little girl," says Steve. Bermuda groans again, really loud this time. "We stepped on something really sharp and apparently it hurts pretty bad, or else Bermuda would quit crying. He's such a baby. And we can't seem to get out of this bush."

"Oh." Howie inspects the big purple monster foot pointing to the sky. It has a big piece of leprechaun trap sticking out from it. She easily plucks it out of the foot, and Bermuda gives a little scream.

"See?" Steve points at Bermuda "He's such a cry baby."

"I am not!" cries Bermuda. "If it'd gone into your foot, you'd cry louder than I did."

"No way, what about that one time we tripped and I jammed my finger on the door. You didn't hear me complain at all."

"Come on! Jamming your finger isn't anything like gettting a piece of metal stuck in your foot!"

"Whatever. Baby." They crawl out of the bush, and still arguing, foot still bleeding, they limp over to the fence and climb over it.

"Don't whatever me!"

"I can if I want to."

"At least I don't wet the bed!"

"Hey, it's your bladder, too!"

And the day is over, and Howie caught no leprechauns. "Maybe we should try to catch something else. If we had been trying to catch two-headed naked monsters, we would have been successfull, right Head?" Head nods the affirmative. "Tommorow we should try to set a trap for the mailman. Maybe something with sharp pencils... and electricity."

And with these exciting thoughts buzzing through their heads, off they go to take a bath and go to bed.

Tuesday, May 25

a new ARPIT AND BLOODBATH cartoon!

Arpit and his best friend Bloodbath the unemployed pirate captain stand outside their apartment complex. It's sunny and nice outside.

"You want a pesto and ice cream taco, Bloodbath?" asks Arpit.

"No thanks," says Bloodbath.

"But it's Eat Far Too Many Pesto and Ice Cream Tacos Day," says Arpit. "And you haven't eaten even one. Catch the spirit, buddy."

"I think I can appreciate them more on the outside of my digestive system."

"That's some fake right there. You have to chew food and smoosh it on your toungue to taste it and appreciate it. " Arpit shoves most of a pesto and ice cream taco into his mouth. He crunches it loudly, bits of green ice cream dripping over his bumblebee shirt. "Yeah, that's the stuff."

"i love pesto and ice cream so much. it's my favorite thing in the world. I can eat it every day and all the time and never get sick of it ever. boy howdy." yells Arpit. A big grey monster walks past at just that moment and turns her head to see what Arpit is yelling about. the pirate, yelling ice-creamed boy, and the monster all exchange eye contact for a brief moment before the monster continues on her way.

"Arpit?" asks Bloodbath.


"Did you see what that monster was carrying?"

"Was she carrying something?" Arpit concentrates on getting far too much of a taco in his mouth.

"Yes, she was." Bloodbath curls the tip of his curly mustache with one hand. "She was carrying a lot of sandwich items. Mayonaise, sliced cheese, bread, a squealing pig..."


"Just hungry. I think I'll go back to the apartment and make some real food."

"Ice cream and pesto tacos are real food."

Arpit and Bloodbath walk up the stairs to their apartment. On the way up they pass by an open door. They both look in and see a small child dumping a lot of mayonaise onto a slice of bread on the floor. the child looks up and stares at the two friends questioningly. A squealing pig runs a quick circle around the child, who goes back to piling the mayonaise on his bread.

Arpit and Bloodbath are about to continue on their way when they hear a woman screaming. "Help! Help! Oh no! Oh no! Oh no! OH NO! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Then a loud crunching sound, with some less loud wet smooshing sounds. Arpit shoves another half a taco into his mouth.

A red high-heeled shoe comes flying from the other room and hits the wall behind the mayonaise kid. Another one follows.

"Hey," says Arpit. "Look at all those shoes." And this is when they both realize that there are shoes all over the apartment. Lots and lots of them. And glasses. The floor of the apartment is covered in men and women's shoes and glasses. "Why are there so many shoes, Bloodbath?"

The big grey monster comes walking out just then, picking her bloody teeth with a pair of horn-rimmed glasses.

"Hey," yells Arpit. "We know you. You want a taco?"

The monster shakes her head "No" and sits down next to the child who is still building that mountain of mayonaise, the slice of bread no longer visible.

"Ma'am," nods Bloodbath to the monster. "Arpit, let's be on our way."


"Becusae maybe they want their privacy."

"Hey monster," yells Arpit. "How come you got so many shoes and glasses?"

the monster stands up, walks to the door, and slams it in their faces.

"Happy Eat Far Too Many Pesto and Ice Cream Tacos Day!" Arpit yells through the door. "i'm gonna leave one by the door in case she changes her mind later.

Bloodbath nods and they walk upstairs to their own apartment.

Monday, May 24

i'm tired of writing this website. i wish someone else would do it, yet still let me have that nice sense of accomplishment.

any volunteers? i think i'll take a break for a week or two.

Friday, May 21

We're going camping. No reruns or anything, just no shows at all for today and maybe tommorow.

It's a Getting Back to Nature weekend. Me and Mr. Happy Puppet Head will beat drums we fashion ourselves out of logs, paint our faces with mud, and wear loincloths (even though Mr. Happy Puppet Head has no loins to clothe, we understand that loincloths are detrimental to the getting back to nature process), and yell lots of incoherent yells. Just me and him alone on an island on a lake.

And we'll catch fish and cook it. Either that or bear. or raccoon. or the ramen noodles we're bringing for backup.

i'm excited.

Wednesday, May 19

"I've been to the future," he says.

"Oh, yeah?" we say, "what's it like?"

"Well, I just woke up, and I knew I was in the future, like several hundred years from now, but I was in some third world country. Like somewhere in South America. So their technology wasn't too impressive. I saw their cars, and you know, nothing special. They were all future-looking, but they didn't fly." He shrugs his shoulders. "I didn't really get to see anything really cool. Like if I had been to some big city."

And that was pretty much the end of the conversation. I don't know whether to believe him or not. He said it like he meant it.

Tuesday, May 18

Now we're going to rip off Double Dare because I always loved that show. My love for Double Dare outshines my dislike for pop-culture references.

So we have some contestants, some kids from the audience. Boy, are they excited to be here winning fabulous prizes and getting messy. That one girl's wiggling so happy looks like she might have a heart attack. Winning prizes like this patio furniture, and a chance to win a trip to a live taping of this show. And an autograph... some really good sodas... ane the big prize to be revealed later.

So we're near the end of the show, last question, and the two teams are tied. They're messy and excited. Who will get to go through the obstacle course? Who? Red Team or Blue Team?

The final question: What is the ultimate form of flattery? It's Red Team's turn to answer, but if they don't get it right, Blue Team will have a chance. Okay, go.

No, I'm sorry. Immitation is the penultimate form of flattery. Blue Team?

Yes! Copulation is correct! You get to go on the obstacle course now. Yay! Mr. Happy Puppet Head, please escort the Red Team out to the parking lot. This way to the fun, Blue Team.

Okay, first obstacle is this big bucket full of red-looking mud. There's a flag in there somewhere and you have to find it. When you find it, hand it off to your teamate, and only then can you move on to the next course. Then there's this big head where you crawl in the eyball and there's some brain mud and a flag somewhere in there. Over here is another bucket of mud, only green this time. Here's the big pizza where there's a flag in the mud sauce... another bucket of mud, and the big tower over there where you have to zip accross that zipline to the other side and fall in that kiddie pool of mud and find that flag.

And what do they win if they win, Mr. Happy Puppet Head?

That's right! We'll come crash in your living room for a week and clean your room and mow your lawn and stuff. We'll have lots of fun. But only if you find all the flags in two minutes.

Okay, GO!

There they go, getting muddy. They find the first flag, they find the second, then the third.

Everyone's going crazy. It's really close. They're getting all muddy and finding flags. The intense music is playing. Really intense music. And everyone is screaming. Intense.

And they won. With like a minute left. Oh. That's okay, I guess. Mr. Happy Puppet Head just started working on another Magic Bucket and it hurts my nose to be inside our house. But he has to mow the kid's lawn. I hate doing that. And I call dibs on couch.

Monday, May 17

I want a really big sandwich. Fresh and crunchy with olive oil and stuff on it. Like a sub sandwich. Something like that. Oh boy.

"Hey, Mr. Happy Puppet Head, let's go get some sandwich from the sandwich shop down the street."

No answer from his room. I go and knock on the door.

"Hey, Mr. Happy Puppet Head, let's get a sandwich. Come on."

"I'm busy."

"Doing what?" I wait for his response, but there isn't one. "I'll buy a real big one and we can split it if you want."

He opens the door and peeks out. "How about you buy me my own big sandwich?"

I say that sounds fine.

So we walk to the sandwich store down the street. It's some fine day, with the sun and the clouds and all that. Some birds are singing. Real nice. But something's got Mr. Happy Puppet Head down. Or maybe he's just down for no reason. Hard to tell with that guy.

The sandwich guy at the counter asks what kind of sandwiches we want.

"We both want the big sandwich, I want it on wheat and he'll have white."

"I only eat white," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head. "And I want all the meat on my sandwich. No cheese, no lettuce, none of that. Just all the meat. Except mayo. Lots of mayo."

"I'll have turkey."

"We're all out of turkey."

"Oh," I don't know what else to order. There's a woman waiting in line behind me and I get anxious so I can't think of what else I might want. "When do you think you'll have more turkey?"

"We should get more tommorow."

"Oh," I stare hard at the menu. "I'll have the vegetarian, then."

"Pussy," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head. The woman behind us pretends not to have heard.

"I can get whatever kind of sandwich I want."

"Yeah, and you can be a pussy about it, too."

"What do you want on that sandwich, sir?"

"Lettuce, tomato, the yellow cheese... no onions, no olives... a little mustards."

"Mustard isn't plural."

"Mr. Happy Puppet Head, I'm buying you a sandwich. Leave me alone, okay?"

"Yeah, well in the future I'll have all the money and you'll have to beg me to buy you food."

"Well then maybe you can start with buying your own food today."

"You know I don't have any money. Pay the man."

The sandwich man is standing patiently by the cash register with our sandwiches neatly wrapped and in a plastic bag. He asks if we'd like any drinks or chips, and I say no. I turn around and Mr. Happy Puppet Head has his head under the soda machine gulping down on the fruit punch.

the sandwich man says, "I'm sorry, sir, but I'm gonna have to charge you for that." I notice that an older mean-looking guy is standing behind the sandwich man glaring at me.

I nod and pay him for a small drink. We leave the store.

Walking back home. "Thanks for the food," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head. "Once I have all the money, I'll totally buy you sandwiches whenever you want."


We sit on the porch steps and eat our sandwiches. Sometimes the best thing in the world is a good sandwich eaten on the porch on a sunny day with your best friend.

Saturday, May 15

Now everything's back to normal because I say so. No more cliffhangers or anything. Howie the little girl has her pet old man head back, Mr. Happy Puppet Head has his little dog back (he's still missing half of his mustache, but he's growing it back out), and that strange woman in red is still mysterious and never calls me.

Oh, and I don't have amnesia anymore. It turned out to be kind of a lame plot device anyways.

Plot devices. I think I'm giving up on them.

here's a story with no plot devices.


There is a field with grass. and some flowers. Then some cute furry things run up. They have a great time.

one furry thing says to another, "lets drink some water!" the other one agrees wholeheartedly.

the first furry thing then says, "lets dance around in circles." and they all dance around in circles.

this one furry thing that has all the good ideas says "lets play truth or dare!' once again unanimous agreement.

"truth or dare?" asks the first furry thing.

"truth." replies another.

"are you gay? or just bi-sexual?"

"um... I'm going with neither. I lost my sexual organs in a fire as a child. I don't even remember which kind they were." The sun shines brightly. A butterfly flutters by. The sexless furry thing asks the furry thing accross from it, 'Truth or dare?"

this furry thing replies, "Dare."

"Okay, I dare you to drink what's in this bottle." the furry thing holds up a blue plastic sport bottle.

"What's in it?"

"It doesn't matter. If you want to play, you have to drink it."

"Okay." the furry thing drinks all of it. After a moment its cute furry face shrivels in a mask of horror. It starts dry heaving, but none of the liquid is coming back up. All the furry things begin running in frantic circles, and after a few minutes of this, the choking furry thing drops over dead, its furry eyes rolled back in its furry head.

"let's not play this game anymore," says the first fuzzy thing. And everyone agrees.

We're all in this big room filled with these awesome sort of beanbag chairs. I'd really like to have one, but I don't know who to ask, and maybe they'd most likely say no. Everyone is here in the room, sitting on these giant comfortable bean bags. I want one of these so bad.

To my right is the woman in red with the severed head in her lap. Next to her is Charlie, the big muscle guy who we've been dragging around for some reason. Next to him is a woman with a baby winking at me and smiling. She is wearing a t-shirt that says "I hate Elevators so much." Next to her is Mr. Happy Puppet Head with only one half of his mustache. Next to him is Howie the little girl, next to her are Bermuda and Steve, and next to them is Mr. Happy Puppet Head's ugly little dog.

Midnight Mailman: So... what's going on again?
Woman in Red: Howie the little girl and I kidnapped Mr. Happy Puppet Head in order to blackmail Bermuds and Steve into giving us the secret potion to their sunscreen. We found out that their sunscreen is not only an efficient blocker of harmful UV rays, but that it makes an excellent bar-b-que sauce. So then we kidnapped you to blackmail... not blackmail... extort! So we could extort money out of you since we're low on funds, what with all the kidnapping and not working of regular jobs.
MidnightMailman: I don't remember my PIN number right now. I have AMNESIA.
Howie: I don't really know anything about this. I just want my pet old man head back, but she won't give it to me. I hate her.
MidnightMailman: You should give her back Mr. Happy Severed Head.
Woman in Red: Yeah... I know. I guess I didn't really think this all out too well.
Little Ugly Dog: Yip! Yip! Yip! Yip! Yip! Yip!Yip! Yip! Yip!Yip! Yip! Yip!Yip! Yip! Yip!Yip! Yip! Yip!Yip! Yip! Yip!Yip! Yip! Yip!
Mr. Happy Puppet Head: Hey, let's get out of here. This party's lame.
MidnightMailman: Yeah. I hate this place.
Mr. Happy Puppet Head: Come on, Lemmy. Let's go.

we get up and start to leave, the little yippy dog following behind.

Then there're some explosions, machine guns, karate fights, casual debates over the economic crisis, and a whole lot of face punching. Drama! Excitement!

Now we're home and everything is nice. And we use the razor wire to keep the chickens away from our tomato garden. And now I can remember everything, no more memory disfunctions. I just needed to eat a good meal.

The End.

(I thought it would be a lot harder to write the ending to that then it turned out to be. It sure was really great, too.)

Monday, May 10

(you should be so very excited)

Oh no! Watch out!


I wake up and the room is filling up with water. The doors are barricaded shut by piles of floating office furniture. I call for help but there isn't any reply. It's completely dark except for one flickering flourescent light above me.

A lone stilleto heel floats past. It's her shoe, the mysterious woman in red who picked me up in the limosine.

What's going on? I still have AMNESIA.

*another explosion*

*and another*

*several explosions in a row that rock your soul so hard you start crying from the sheer majesty that is Combustion*

stay tuned

Let's all wave goodbye to our extra-super friend Kristen.

We'll miss her while she's gone. A little bit of us will secretly hope that she really hates it in Utah and comes back sooner than three months, but the majority of us will hope she has the best time ever because that's what we like our friends to do.


Sunday, May 9


I come home from the store. I had to buy eggs, pickles, bread, one of those really big jars of mayonaise, thirty feet of razor wire, and a new toothbrush. We were running a bit low on supplies.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head? Where are you? Hello?

I walk into the kitchen and drop the groceries on the floor, shattering the jar of mayonaise. From the ceiling hangs one half of Mr. Happy Puppet Head's handlebar mustache. It's carefully hung on a piece of string at about eye level.

Mr. Happy Puppet Head? Are you here?

There's a note attatched. I didn't notice that before.

Dear Midnight Creepface,
we kidnapped your friend. you'll have to meet our demands or we'll cut off the other handlebar. and maybe kill him, too. but make sure to meet our demands. then you can have him back.
our demands are that you quit being such an asshole all the time. for serious, we really fucking hate your guts a lot.

The note is written on what looks like part of a brown paper bag. the handwriting is unfamiliar, all scribbly with crayons. I have no idea who did this. How does one stop being an asshole in such a way to have a kidnapped friend released?

But I see a trail of red fur on the ground. Mr. Happy Puppet Head's defense mechanism is shedding.

So I follow the trail.

I get halfway down the block when I'm stopped by this really big muscle guy. He's all fists and poking fingers. It's Charlie, the guy I challenged to a duel yesterday. Funny story.

So I got trapped in this elevator with this girl for several hours and it turned out she was pregnant and I had to deliver her baby and I fell in love with her, but the father of the baby is this tyrant who makes her ride elevators day in and day out. Some sort of fetish or something. Turns out she had stopped the elevator on purpose thinking I would be a good stranger to deliver her child. Must have been the cape. Or maybe the goggles. So I challenge her husband, Charlie, to a duel. I called him all sorts of names. Turns out he was listening by hidden microphone. He tried to duel me as soon as the elevator got unstuck. He was wating in the lobby. But I ran away. I didn't want to die with baby goo all over me.

So now he's here in my way as I'm trying to save my best friend. I put up my fists. I've never been in a fight before.

But just then a car zooms by and crashes into this parked car and the car that was chasing it flips over in the air and explodes. Fire and shrapnel fly everywhere. I take a large piece of metal to the head.

When I wake up I can't remember anything. I'm lying on the concrete staring up at the sky. My head hurts. Where am I? AMNESIA. A long limo pulls up. A woman jumps out of the back door. She's wearing a tight red dress. She looks mysterious. She pulls me into the car, and the driver gets out and drags the big muscle guy passed out on the sidewalk into the car with us.

Sitting in the seat accross from me in the dark limo is an amiable-looking severed head. The woman in red smiles at me mysteriously as she strokes the freckled head lovingly.

Will I remember who I am? Will I save Mr. Happy Puppet Head? What about my duel with Charlie the muscle guy and my un-requited love for the mother of his child? Why the car explosions? Why the woman in the red dress? Why did I buy thirty feet of razor wire from the supermarket?

Friday, May 7

Ratings are low. Lower than they've been for a while now.

We need to do something so awesome that everyone will be talking about it the next day at school. Something that will leave the audience breathless with fear and anticipation and longing and passion.

Maybe some explosions? Nudity? Some sort of contrived plot that ends with a surprise twist ending no one ever expected? More cute fuzzy things?

We'll be working on it. So remember to check back often. It's going to be so great.
a new Educati-FUN video

A teenage boy and a teenage girl are sitting on a bed. They are at a party at a friend's house while their parents are away. The sound of a loud stereo system can be heard from downstairs. They are alone in the room, and sexy.

The girl says "You know, it's cool not to do it."

The boy says, "Yeah, I mean, I'm not doing it right now, and that's cool. I really like spending time with you, really."

The girl replies with, "But it's cool to not do it more than just not now."

"Yeah, I know. Like all those other times inbetween not doing it."

"No, it's cool to not do it."

"Yeah, but so is doing it."

"No, it's cool to not do it ever," says the girl.

"No way, doing it is cool," says the boy.

"The new fashion just got in. It says that not doing it ever is really in style."

"No... I'm pretty sure doing it is really cool."

"Not anymore."

Mr. Happy Puppet Head appears in a flash of light. "She's right, you know," he wiggles his mustache at them. "Not doing it ever is they way to go. The cool way. Take it from me, Mr. Happy Puppet Head."

"Wow!" says the boy. "Can I have your autograph?"


"See," says the girl. "Mr. Happy Puppet Head says it's cool to not ever do it."

"What about dry humping?" asks the boy. "Or, you know... mouth stuff?"

"That stuff is still cool," says Mr. Happy Puppet Head. "And don't let anyone tell you it isn't. Just the actual doing it isn't cool." He turns and addresses the camera. "Remember kids, penis in vagina, say no way. Pregnant with disease is how you'll pay." He winks and disappears in a flash.

"Thanks Mr. Happy Puppet Head!" the two sexy teens say together as they hug.

Fade to black.

Tuesday, May 4

Howie the little girl asks the Hot Dog vendor "Have you seen a severed head and a woman wearing all red?"

and the hot dog vendor woman says "sure, they came by here just a little while ago. She bought almost all my hotdogs. i've never seen anyone dislocate their jaw to swallow 60 hotdogs all at once before, and i've been in this business for a long time."

"Did the head have any hot dogs?"

"Yeah, it was weird. When she was done she chewed up one hot dog and spit it into its mouth."


"That's what I'm saying. Some sick shit you see working a stand like this."

"Did they say where they were going?"

"Yeah, some museum. I'm not nosey, but I like to conversate with my customers. Makes the job interesting. They wanted to see the dinosaurs or paintings or something. I forget. "

Howie scrunches her eyes up at the sky, thinking hard.

"You want a hot dog, little girl?"

"Which way to the museuem?"

It's a lot of fun to simply be Avant Guarde. just stand around repeating the same phrase in monotone over and over again for the sake of being on the forefront of exhistence. Maybe jump around and pump your fists in the air while saying it. Make the meaningless meaningful.

Try the phrase "The milk comes from the nipple." at least thats what worked today. and switch it around so sometimes you're saying "the nipple comes from the milk." or "nipple nipple nipple milk milk milk somtimes." then maybe pretend to freak out and gnash your teeth and contort your body into strange positions around the room.

the best is when everyone else in the room is being Avant Guarde, too. Throw and Avant Guarde party!

Do it.
Do it.
Do it for the right slime shiny times for the president. They love the cinnamon. They love it so for the flashing of it.

Avant Guarde!

Monday, May 3

The show's been over for hours and I can't wash the stench off. I'm sittting in the bathtub scrubbing and scrubbing with one of those real sponge sort of sponges. With Ajax. My skin hurts.

Whatever Mr. Happy Puppet Head had been planning for his Magic Bucket will never come to fruition. Unless he makes another Magic Bucket, which I'll have to veto. He never did tell me what it was for, but at this point I don't really care.

In short, there was a scuffle, involving Bermuda and Steve (the two-headed naked monster with the enormous genitalia we considered for Mr. Happy Puppet Head's replacement a little while back). they were angry about something, but I don't know what. They were both yelling so loudly at the same time, and it all happened so fast. They came in, knocked over my ventriliquist guest, yelled for a bit, spilled the foul bucket all over me, and ran away. I'm considering gettting a restraining order against them, just like they do in movies and tv. Strange kids, that Bermuda and Steve.

And Mr. Happy Puppet Head is pissed. He had to improvise a scene, and it was awful. He just kept repeating the line "The milk comes from the nipple" and hummming some sort of tuneless thing. But you can't blame him, really. Apparently his Magic Bucket act was going to be something really great. Poor Mr. Happy Puppet Head.

Saturday, May 1

"Yeah, I seen a severed head come past. Just a little while ago in fact," says the fat balloon salesman. His bright red and white stripped shirt makes Howie's eyes cross. "Real ugly lookin' dude, bald, kind of green."

"He's not ugly," says Howie. "When did you see him and did he say where he was going?"

"No, didn't say. Hey, you going to buy a balloon or what."

Howie holds out a quarter. "A blue one please. Was he still with the dog?"

"A blue one, our specialty. No, no dog. Some dame. All in red, some hot number, that one. They were making all cutsey faces. She bought them both balloons. Orange ones."

"Any idea where I can find them?" She grips her spoon too hard. She looks at the palm of her hand and sees a purple imprint of it.


"That's fine. I appreciate your help."

"Anytime, little girl."

"My name's Howie." And she runs off, bright blue balloon dragging the air behind her.

I can't imagine a worse smell. Like garbage and vommit mixed in with some septic tank action. It's Mr. Happy Puppet Head's Magic Bucket. It's for a bit he's planning for the show tommorow, so he's putting it in the hallway by the door so he doesn't forget it. And now the entire house smells like his Magic Bucket.

Oh... I have to get out of the house.

"Hey, you wanna go get a drink?" I yell.


"It smells awful in here. You wanna go get a drink?"

"Okay, but can we take the Bucket?"


"You know. Show it off."

"But it smells awful," I say. "That's why I want to leave the house. Get away from the bucket."

"Yeah, but can we take it anyway?"

"I'd rather not."

"Yeah, but... can we take it anyway?"


So we take the bucket. It sits next to Mr. Happy Puppet Head in the booth. The waitress came and asked what we wanted, but it's been a long time and I don't think she's coming backwith what we asked for. I think the smell has stuck to me, too. I feel grimy and disgusting.

"You never told me what you're going to do with the bucket." At this point I'm holding a napkin over my nose. I feel lightheaded and dizzy.

"It's a surprise. It's gonna be so awesome... hot damn." He knocks the salt shaker over and licks up the white grains from the table top. "You'll love it, you'll see."

"I don't like it now."

"You just wait until tommorow."

This better be really good.

I present to you The Midnight Mailman Show's poet laureate, Bradley Bailey. We'll be reading his short poem simpley entitled, "Wind."


Wind... what the fuck?

Mr. Bailey is an accomplished poet, having written many of them that we here at the show think are really great. He's an actor on some commercials and tv, makes puppet shows, and plays songs on his guitar.

He has been quoted as saying, "You know, it's plants that got me into classical music," and "Remember that cucumber? You know, I ate it.... and I cried...." Together we once held a funeral for his best friend who was a tomato. He had rolled over it in in his sleep and crushed it. He is a brilliant, brilliant human being.

We'll see more of his work in the future, I promise.