Um. I don't know. Where should I post it, perverteduncles.com?

Yes he is, Allesandro. Yes he is.

He was my donut buddy when I was a kid. He gave me rides in his snub-nose big rig when I was nine. I call him every month. But on Thanksgiving I found a box of filthy magazines in the back of his plymouth. Now, I'm no prude but this stuff was really strange. I'm talking about man on dog, old ladies on young ladies, cats and rabbits being watched by obese masturbating conjoined twins, anime girls being eaten by their fathers and a lot of other things I don't know how to describe. But what really frightens me is that he travels with this stuff!
I love my Uncle Leon and he's not dangerous. But Jesus, how can I get over this? I'm just going to pretend it didn't happen. Maybe hypnosis could get these images out of my head. But my hands are still itchy!
I guess I'll just get some bleach and steel wool and take the skin off my fingers.

Marmots, Radioactive

The air in here is awful.
My skin still feels like fetid cheese.
They ate my chickens.
But why?

Cats akimbo.
Bambo mothers floating in concentric circles.
Low rent paranoia. Just give it up already.

Move over rover, don't blow my cover.
Only three days to go, now.

Sweet, black coffee and dexadrine.
Damned teens on the loose.
Stolen bicycles and the many sweaty bankers of that old brown town
on some square run about.

Just give it up already.
My right sinus is spent.
Fear of needles.
I'll call my inner dealer.
Not to worry.

So you invented a machine
to suck your own head off?
Put it to good use.
Destroy the Pope
and have some of these
various colors.

We'll lick at my eyebrows in the hot room.
Doubled potency,
thanks to a big news day.
Not to worry,
I'm a total professional.
Mature through to dawn.

So there they are, again
going at Chess, badly.
Sullen and red around the edges.
Why does she always get this way at the end?

Like the naughty kid at new years table.
Petulent mess.
Sulky full fit to squeeze.

'No fault of mine.'
My ole time line.

See you in the morning.
There'll be toast next door
and those lovely mothers.

Take the cure.
Phone it in.

I'll still be up
when this thing cools off.

Nine out of ten bath house attendants agree that children are dangerous. Children are the world's greatest threat to adults getting what they want. Seventeen world peace organizations report that by the end of next week children will have thwarted even more grown up outings and sexual encounters than prime time television. How do we address this threat? Join the Stop the Children Foundation today. A small daily contribution of $5,984 will help us fund our critical child-stopping initiatives and provide much needed resources to our child stopping agents worldwide.
It's time to stop being complacent. It's time to stop the children.
(This message has been brought to you by a cranky old man in a Vermont suburb.)