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Posted

Once upon a morning dreary

While I pondered, weak and weary

over the many tepid douche bags that post upon this site galour.

Suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently crapping,

as of someone typing madly to post into the Spray some more.

"'Tis Spew Sprayshaw, and nothing more. He is so suck."

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Posted

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,

In there stepped a mouthy canuck of the saintly days of yore;

A constant squawking made he; not an instant stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door —

Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door —

Perched, and sat, squawked and squawked, nothing more.

 

Quoth the Sprayshaw...I suck

 

Posted

a large crowd amasses at AlpineKurt's bar

where people come to watch from near and far

twenty or thirty devoted fans gather near

and when it begins they all shout and cheer

 

Caveman is a loud-mouth bother

and we were freaked to find his mother was really his father

much to our dismay his friend's advice he didn't take

when he decided to start bulking up with BEEFCAKE!

 

Catturd is a bulimic who can never keep things down

when Marylouser is around

he seemes to be the most level headed of the bunch

except on his quest to be a lesbian, when on carpet he started to munch

 

Posted

 

"Seldom we find," says catbirdseat in Spray,

"Half an idea in the profoundest posting.

Through all the flimsy things we see at once

As easily as through a E-Rock's boxers —

Trask of all trash! — how can a lady don it?

Yet heavier far than your bawdiest stuff—

Owl-downy nonsense that the faintest puff

Twirls into trunk-paper the while you con it."

And, veritably, Dru is right enough.

The general rude obscenities are arrant

Bubbles — ephemeral and so transparent —

But this is, now, — you may depend upon it —

Stable, opaque, immortal — all by dint

Of the dear names that lie concealed within 't.

 

 

 

 

Posted

Mr. Hankey is smelly and brown,

Mr. Hankey is oh-so-cool.

Mr. Hankey don't make me frown,

In fact, it makes me drool.

 

Mr. Hankey, he is my buddy.

He comforts me at night.

He's a poor man's silly putty,

But he can sure put up a fight.

 

A toilet-clogging dump,

Sure lifts my spirits high.

Just seeing each lil lump,

Brings a joyful tear to my eye.

 

I like to eat Mr. Hankey in a box,

And in a house, at that.

I would eat the Mr. Hankey of a fox,

But not a coyote's spicy scat.

 

I also like to date my crap,

And lavish it with gifts.

I stroke it while it's in my lap,

'Til off to sleep it drifts.

 

The moral of my lovely ode,

Is simply: Love your waste.

Before you flush your steaming load,

Be sure to get a taste!

 

bigdrink.gif

Posted

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the snowless October,

And each separate dying pixel wrought its ghost upon my face.

Eagerly I wished for new Spray; — vainly I had tried to pray

From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for Miss Normandy —

Or the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Anna —

Nameless here for evermore.

 

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