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The Head Prophecies

Sepulchritude Forum » The Absinthe Forum Archive thru June 2002 » Archive Thru May 2002 » The Head Prophecies « Previous Next »

Author Message
Pikkle
Posted on Monday, June 3, 2002 - 9:26 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

Head seeped outta here... that's for sure... ask him why some time...
Traineraz
Posted on Monday, June 3, 2002 - 9:14 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

Sounds like Head is seepy, too.

*shudder*
Robertsmith
Posted on Monday, June 3, 2002 - 6:46 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

Like an animal
Pikkle
Posted on Monday, June 3, 2002 - 6:38 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

Vera, I glove you...
Pikkle
Posted on Monday, June 3, 2002 - 6:31 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

I'm seepy... time to change those briefs!
Robertsmith
Posted on Monday, June 3, 2002 - 6:27 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

Will you marry me Vera?
Verawench
Posted on Monday, June 3, 2002 - 4:47 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

Well, isn't that special. I'm weepy.
Marccampbell
Posted on Monday, June 3, 2002 - 4:39 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

head and kallisti,

at your request, I have resumed transcribing the prophecies.

the "head prophecies" will continue in the suffering is hip forum.
Barsnake
Posted on Monday, June 3, 2002 - 2:30 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

All that biker talk is makin me hot
Robertsmith
Posted on Monday, June 3, 2002 - 2:28 pm:   Edit PostPrint Post

?
Marccampbell
Posted on Monday, June 3, 2002 - 3:54 am:   Edit PostPrint Post

Head had gone from a double wide, Jim Dandy saturated reality, to being the first in line at a cosmic sexual buffet. He had a myriad of choices laid before him. Should he cash in the red neck for the lavender scented swanlike arch of
a wannabe Poppy Z. Brite vampire slut. Or should he settle for the masculine density of Oliver Reed's rippling nape in Women In Love? As the choices unfolded themselves at his knobby hairy feet, head did something he had never done before.
Something that was a source of both repulsion and tittilation: he removed a bloody tampon from his dank snatch.
Marccampbell
Posted on Monday, June 3, 2002 - 3:38 am:   Edit PostPrint Post

She was a he. A He. A dyke. He A D yke. H E A D.

The alphabet is not simply a signifier. It, in and of itself, is the key to mystic energy. Every letter contains power. 26 letters are capable of
destroying whole universes. For example: let's take the letter O. Within that circle, emptiness abides. It signifies nothing. And yet, it is the sound we make when we are shocked into the recognition that this is all there is: Oh!
Marccampbell
Posted on Monday, June 3, 2002 - 3:21 am:   Edit PostPrint Post

The biker nosed her Harley toward the thin piss-colored vein of the horizon. Her pussy was vibrating with the gutteral torque of the hog's engine. Biker bitch needed a lube job. She needed to be invaded by the blue-veined blood bomber of absolute reality. She needed to be loved. In all the wrong places. She needed sexual closure. She needed to know who the fuck she was. Was she,
who she, may she, does she? Her clit was abnormally large. It looked like a lightly tanned
miniature armadillo. A cross between a reptile and
a profile of a pygmy at dusk. Biker bitch was suffering an identity crisis. She had crossed millions of miles of space on an aluminum two-wheeler with a tricked-out solar powered scrotum
scrubber and she still didn't know who the fuck she was. Somewhere in the back of her brain, among the discarded inner tubes and split personalities, there was one word, one deeply mysterious word that echoed throughout the corridors of her confusion. And that word was:
HEAD.

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