Turtle's Dreams

The Editors,
Times Staff

The turtle was not as it appeared. For many reasons. The shell was, for starters, reminiscent of Magic Shell ice cream topping, but not as delicious. Nor sweet. However, the shell did have its distinct flavour. Every other animal in the forest took turns licking the turtle’s shell - much to his annoyance. However, he tried to ignore it as much as he could. Sometimes he would cover his shell with mud and feces so that the other animals would try to avoid licking it as much as possible. Because of this, the turtle would often end up alone. And in that loneliness bred boredom. “Maybe,” he thought, “I don't see why it’d be wrong, those rules are so old, fairy tales, that's all.” The Turtle looked both ways checking to make sure his loneliness hadn't left and been replaced by a hidden onlooker. He opened his snout, and breached his tongue, it unrolled like a moldy yet empty sleeping bag, and he picked up his long licker and flipped it onto his own shell, tasting everything. Vapor rolled from his snout as his mouth lingered open coiling in the air with toxic ease. “Dear God,” thought the turtle, “They’ve got the right idea, I truly taste and smell like ass.”

Ferris Wheels Fraught Fought Off The Editors, Times Staff, management@surrealtimes.net

He jumped backward to avoid the rogue ferris wheel rolling South from Santa Monica. “Sorry for the scare”, a behemoth of a woman called out from a distance, “I meant to hit ya in the head.”

“It’s ok,” he told her. “Do better next time.”

“I’ll go to the gym to train more. Next time I will get you.”

“There won’t be a next time, unless you insist I am not a behemoth of a woman but rather a monstrosity of a woman”, the huge behemoth lady added.

“I am so concerned about rogue ferris wheels that it is difficult for me to rephrase the epithet with which the author writing referred to you, I am very sorry.”

More Ferris Wheels were emanating from Beverly Hills. What the fuck? It was a roller coaster ride of trying to evade goddamn Ferris Wheels. But Jack Johnson-Haggarsworld was able to do such a thing.

A portly man in a polka dot suit and a curly moustache flailed down the street. “The ferris wheels are out of control!” he yelped. “We need a behemoth of a woman to stop them from multiplying!”

“Well,” the guy said to the woman, “Are you a behemoth of a woman or a monstrosity of a woman?”

“I, I am a behemoth of a, a... MONSTROSITY of a woman!”

Just then she unhinged her fearsome jaw, all of her teeth braced themselves and tightened their braces. She positioned herself square in the line of the Mother-Wheel. Her mouth opened so wide it’d her saliva could see the Mother-Wheel coming and mist decided to free-fall-drool out onto the ground. The Behemoth of a MONSTROSITY of a woman looked the Mother-Wheel straight down and right before they collided, she puckered her lips and kissed it, and they made out so deep in front of everyone, that all the bystanders felt awkward and went home.

For more articles by The Editors, click here. To get in touch with this writer, email management@surrealtimes.net.


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