Archive for May, 2012

Genial mortician’s consultant,
now a imprudent hobo.
A lackey planted next to him,
but not a single dime for his kookaburra.

Quash the hobo’s esteem,
make him repent reposing the kookaburra.
The motto: don’t be fastidious.

It’s Friday morning, he’s running as fast as he can. He’s late. Again. Setting his foot in the humble funeral home he works at, he’s immediately confronted by one of the morticians. Nero called him “The Skeleton” due to the man’s height, weight, general scariness, and breath that smelled like dead people.
“Yeah, I-“
“Well if you’re done with the yelling I could easily help you out. Is that fine with you, mister?”
“Fuckin’ hell, Nero..”

After Nero had given the mortician a few handy tips on how to get the most money out of the grieving family, they still had a good ten minutes left until 12. The Skeleton suddenly turned calm, but the tone of his voice still had a kind of a strictness to it.
“You know our top competitor moved their services right across the street, right?”
“Mhmm,” Nero didn’t really care.
“Well, we need more money to compete with them. If we don’t manage our high budgets somehow, we’ll all lose our jobs.”
Something was wrong here.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that we don’t really need a consultant anymore. You give good advice, but it’s been mostly useless these last few days, I’ve already known these methods myself. In reality.. it’s not even a real job. Even YOU don’t take it seriously.”
“BUT I-“
“We appreciate the year you worked with us.”

And soon enough Nero found himself outside of his now former workplace. He had hoped to say something witty, but it all happened so fast and The Skeleton kept cutting him off. Although he was already outside, it didn’t stop him from shouting a few “nice” words at the building he was just kicked out of.

Nero had no idea what to do next. He was in huge debts, he had no living relatives, good/rich friends, and finding a new job seemed hopeless. He sat down on the street and set his head on his knees. Sat there like a little kid who had just failed a test and felt that their whole world was going to crash because of it. Suddenly he heard a voice.
“Hey, you look.. troubled.”
Nero didn’t even care enough to look who it was, just replied with some weird animal sound.
“…well, I’m here to congratulate you on winning the lottery. The grand prize, or whatever. So congratulations, multi millionaire!”
Nero jumped up, eyes as big as god knows what.
“Of course it is.”

And he woke up.
Laying on some coat he had found, good old Spotty warming his leg, a few dimes in his cup. Headache-y.

To, overall, free oneself:
Bemoan and convalesce.

A fierce Soviet pirate may counteroffer a crown.
Double duplex a fine back

Jim was on another one of those “Discover and Reinvent Yourself” trips, organized by Bamboocha inc. He joined one, every month, dispite seeing no progress, through it. He was kind of a lost soul.

On this journey were other people, trying to find point in life as well. The group usuall remained the same. Sometimes a new person came, another time, someone else left. It was like a self-help group. Despite their common goal, they were all strangers. Jim ad probably spoken with maybe 2 people during the 16 trips, he has gone on with Bamboocha inc. But this time, his journey took an unexpected turn.

The group of 14 was on a small dingy probably meant for only 3-5 people. The sides were rusted and despite being in water, the boat still squeacked. Jim thought that if he still doesn’t get help, at least he will sink and get to file in an insurance claim. But sinking wasn’t what his problem was.

After 3 hours of sailing, pirates appeared out of nowhere and attacked the boat, killing already half of the crew. Jim was among the lucky 7 that survived. “Well, this is….interesting” said Jim, when confronted by a pirate. He didn’t look anything like Jim would have imagined a pirate. He had both his eyes and legs and didn’t wear a goofy hat, though he still wore a thick beard.

The pirates took the group to their island, where they were eaten, one-by-one. As Jim was only left, he wasn’t even bothered by it. They started to eat him as well, starting from his legs. They had ony finished with a few of his toes, when his phone rang. This startled the pirates, making them run for their life. “Who would’ve thought that Rebecca Black’s Friday even works on pirates?” said Jim. The few pirates, remaining, wanted to crown Jim, king of the island.

A sissy with a white tie
openly ran away with gangrene.
and strung out on dirt with home-grown,
sanctions by the institution
were now practically removed.

Joseph was an average joe living in Brooklyn, New York. He worked from 9 to 5 in an office, 5 days a week. He had worked there for over ten years. There was something that was a little off about him – he was a man in his thirties but he was already having his mid-life crisis. He was tired of working 5 days a week 9 hours a day. He needed some action, some new experiences, some fun in his life.
One day, when he was coming home from work, he failed to see a herd of nails and he stepped on one. This hurt like hell. It later turned out the wound took a turn for the worse and turned to gangrene.
This was the last spill in his cup, he got even more depressed. He decided to move to South-America. He went to Amazonas and started living with a native tribe. Because of that he no longer had to pay taxes. The man whose whole life was about his job and who didn’t know anything but his job was on his way of becoming a man who could survive the wilderness on his own.
His gangrene was amazingly cured by the medicines the natives had given him. The tribe usually had some type of angst or grudge against white people but seeing how Joseph was sick, they decided to take care of him. Joseph combined his knowledge of nature with his knowledge of civilization and quickly became one of the wisest men in the tribe. He gained respect and after a few years he was chosen as the right hand of the leader. He never thought about his past in civilization.
He woke up at 8 o’clock and realised he had to go to work. His leg was fine, he never had gangrene. The dream felt so real that Joseph became lugubrious, when he realized that he had to go to work. He decided to write a poem about his dream:

A sissy with a white tie …

Dictionary poem

Minority puritans dissipated by ship,
to minty cream heaven,
to live at sandal shop,
they derivated their likeness of that swallow.


“Do you have the tickets?” asked the small Asian woman in a green dress from her obese yet kind-looking, clearly Eastern European influenced husband. The bizarre couple was standing in line at the city’s major port’s ticket office, surrounded by their 3 children – the naughty 12-year-old redheaded twin boys and a frightened little blonde girl of about 4. The girl was staring at the passing people dreamily and the boys were pickering with each other, fighting over their toy fire truck. The expression on their mother’s face was as if set in stone; her face was full of boredom and tiredness – the flight to Frankfurt had been unbearable, and most of all, the thought of going to live in the boring state of Colorado, to build up their own little shoe business, itself was unbearable. But what the man says the woman agrees with, and thus the family was headed to the United States, the country which was formidably influenced by McCarthyism and racial insecurities. After all, being a Puritan family with the father a Soviet and the mother a Philippino, and their children as different looking from their parents as a potato is from a carrot, was not the easiest burden to hold. But they managed. They had their shoe shop, which mainly sold cheap sandals and synthetic slippers, providing the family a reasonable earning for that time and such oddness, and they had their firm beliefs to ground them to their personal reality. But the most valued thing in their lives’ was their family. Because who else could understand such a mixture of people, such a shy group of misfits? This was what made them tolerate the time in their new home – even if they didn’t have anything else, they still loved life because of the values in it. The values of family. The values of belonging even if you don’t belong. And as they belonged to their family, it was alright. They made the tedious swallow enjoyable. As a matter of fact, it had been enjoyable all along.

  1. Awesome
  2. Commercial
  3. Elm – tall tree
  4. Gourd – large fruit
  5. Grumble – complain about something
  6. Lacklustre – not interesting
  7. Parterre – a flat area in garden
  8. Predictor
  9. Questioning
  10. Rabbit
  11. Rabble
  12. Soca – carribean music
  13. Sop – releaf
  14. Stripe
  15. Unsavoury – unpleasant

Rabble rabbit
Grumbled in Parterre

Gourd awesome sop
on elm tree

Questioning soca’s
Unsavoury commercial

Stripe predictor
is lacklustre.


Once upon a time, there lived a rabbit. This one wasn’t a usual rabbit, like we know from fairy-tales. Robin was his name and he was a very rabble one. He was constantly complaining and he didn’t get along with anybody in the forest, not even with the other rabbits. Robin was always alone but actually he didn’t care about that. He thought that the less you care the happier you are.

One day as he was hopping around in the unknown parterre, he saw a gourd hanging above him, on a tall elm tree. Because he in his nature was anxious, he was eager to get the juicy fruit down from the tree. But Robin wasn’t born to climb trees. So he gave it a little thought and since he had no friends, that lonely rabbit was forced to visit the local predictor, who lived inside of a mysterious and dark stump. No one ever dared to speak with the predictor, but Robin wasn’t afraid.

When Robin reached the Predictor’s home, he heard doubtful soca songs playing in the background. Robin stepped inside and saw the predictor doing some magic. When the predictor noticed Robin, he asked what was wrong. The rabbit started to grumble about his problem. The predictor took his time to deal with the question. For a moment it felt lacklustre for Robin. In the end the wizard came to a solution.

The predictor said that there was only one true solution. Robin had to paint awesome red stripes around the tree. The plan sounded strange for Robin, but nevertheless he was eager to get the fruit.  It became more unsavoury when he heard the other part of the ritual. In addition he had to sing a soca song around the tree exactly when the sun is highest in the sky. Robin thanked the predictor and left.

The rabbit waited for 7 days and 7 nights for the right moment. When the time came and the sun was highest in the sky Robin started to paint the stripes on the elm tree. When he finished painting he started to sing an old soca song and after a minute or two the ritual was over. It was a big sop for him when he saw the fruit actually falling down from the tree. But unfortunately it fell right on top of his head and he was literally squashed.


By Brain and Ingmar


Humane Sherlock with a heavy ladder,

burned his jeans in a settlement.

He then built a neutral wheelbarrow with his money

to heat his feel-good genitals.

It was a typical Sunday afternoon in London. The shadowy narrow streets of the Upper East End were quiet as the people had hidden themselves away from the stuffy air. It was one of the warmest summers of the decade.

Sherlock was sneaking out of the apartment, trying not to wake his roommate Dr.Watson from his afternoon nap. He was on a mission to reveal the culprit who had kidnapped Mrs. Hudson. The detective slunk through the dark alleys and obscure passageways to the house of the suspect, making sure that nobody saw him. Soon enough, he reached a seemingly deserted building. The curtains were pulled and the front doorstep was dusty, but as he looked around, he noticed a single faint footprint leading to the back door. Sherlock touched the handle, but it was locked. He needed to get in somehow and started to think of a way into the house. Suddenly, he spotted a ladder in the corner of a shed. He positioned it on the wall and climbed to the roof. There he noticed an ajar window and crawled in.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” a deep, brittle voice said.

Sherlock quickly turned around and saw a man pointing a gun at him.

“Hello, Moriarty, how lovely to see you.”

“Always so polite, Sherlock,” Moriarty mocked, “but I’m not here to chat.” He pulled the trigger, but fortunately missed the detective, because Sherlock had expected his move. He grabbed Moriarty’s pistol and managed to wrench it out of the criminal’s hand.

But then Moriarty punched him in the stomach with his elbow and ran out of the room. Sherlock followed him and finally found Moriarty in the kitchen. “You’ll not get away this time!”

Moriarty sneered: “A bit too confident, my friend,” and jumped towards him. They struggled over the gun, during which Sherlock was shoved against a hot-plate.

“Arrrgh, DAMN IT!” Sherlock yelled in pain.

“Better luck next time, dear Sherlock.”

And with those words, he disappeared.

To be continued…


With Love to the Wardrobe Ladies

Once upon a morning, I stopped and stared.

Wickedly towards me, she glared.

I then said,”You’re mean and a major doodoo head,”

adding,”you’re so slow that I’d rather be dead!”

I hope someday you’ll hear, what we prepared.

Sexual Frustration (also known as the DC Poem)

Once there was a sexy man

and I really am his biggest fan.

Come and stand under my umbrella!

I wanna be with you, you organic fellow.

Oh, I’m gonna be with you – this is my master plan.

By: Ann, Katharina and Merle

The Room


This room is ideal for me. It’s just the right size, not too big. Though the choice of colour, blue-white-orange, wouldn’t be my first choice, I have nothing against it. The good thing about it, is that there are so many different ledges and places, where I can put all my stuff, as I am used to storing things, chaotically. I’m also a very nostalgic person, so most of my shelves are still filled with toys. The shelf above my desk is filled with model cars. Cupboards are full of boxes, full of legos. There are many different lego thing on my desk, other shelves and even my floor. It’s useful, because I always use them anyway, thus no need to store them and then just take them out again, every time I need them. My room is generally clean, I would say. I have to clean it every weekend, so every week, it starts off very clean, but gets messier as the week progresses. By friday, it is hard to find certain things.

My Mom

This room would be perfect if he didn’t make it twice as small, as it is. i can’t even step anywhere, when I come here. I might step on something and trip or break something. He needs to sort things out – what he needs and what is unnecessary. He could use some of Anthea’s tips. Also, this room would definitely fail the white-glove test. I mean, honestly. Does he really think that dusting only twice a week keeps things proper and clean? And why won’t he put his legos away? Everything would look a lot more tidy, if he just put things in their proper place and organize things. That way, it is easy to find things, if you need them and later you can put them away again.

My Room

1.   I walk into my room and immediately spot the mess. There are quite a few stuff lying where they are not supposed to lie. Fortunately I have quite gotten into the habit of cleaning up the mess when it gets too big. I see a guitar on the left hanging on the wall and two other guitars at the other end of the room.  On the left there is also a big closet and my bed. On my right I have a cupboard full of books, movies, games etc. I also see the mammoth table on the right. On the table I see my computer, a printer and a bunch of other stuff I use daily. It’s a pretty average room, I suppose, but I like it.

2.      I walk into his room. Oh, there is a guitar on the left. Well, I should strum it, maybe it’ll disturb him. He always tries to do something to disturb me when he’s in my room. Why is his room larger than mine? There is still a calendar of 2009 hanging on the wall, and a BIG Manchester United flag on the wall. Why does he have so many books on his table? Oh, the computer! I’m going to change the wallpaper to something funny when he’s not looking. It’s payback time.

My Room

I’m back in my room again. There isn’t a big mess, like one could expect. Nothing is laying on the floor and even the bed is properly made up. I mean, to me my room is always clean and tidy and just the way I like it. I always find everything and all the things are just wHere I left them. I can say that my desk, which I haven’t used lately for nothing but a place to simply put my important things, which I may need the next day. There are a lot of things on the desk, but it doesn’t bother me. I like my room, there is nothing I would change.

Look at this room. Not as tidy and clean as you would expect from a young man. The bedspread isn’t properly on the bed. The doors of the wardrobe are fully open again. And the table. Yet again it is full of things, I am sure, he doesn’t actually need. Why he doesn’t put them away, I don’t know. It is such a mess that I can’t find anything. And why are the curtains not in front of the windows again? What is this on the windosill? Dust. He should clean his room more often than once a week.