The Mobile Tea Cups of Madagascar

The saponification of the orally administered yellow-spotted hyrax shall diminish domestic ungulates who indulge in too many slurpies from the 7-11. Wild chive foam adorns the soft white belly of the magnificent stratified epidermis when showing sexual displays to the female species of osmotic terrestrial kittens. Permeable symbiotic harmony is tolerated only when cheez whiz and saltines are served upon lilies with exceptional hearing. Light travels in both waves and photons although German cats get in the way of horizontal migrations during the feast of Lent. The exquisite camoflauge of sparkling undulating farm equipment far outweighs that of predatorial chocolate zombies. A bouquet to inhale s-waves manifests dramatic monolouges of thoughtful submersions in tumultuous waves of pleasure. Synesthesia gains tawdry chamber music any time Pandora's box is opened during the passionate bloom of youth. Medium: Ink on antique paper, digital color.

Comments

[Jenn F.]

I love this one. And your textual rant compliments the illustration beautifully. The last sentence made me think of Demon Kitty and I laughed out loud. Her current nightmares are some men's wistful dreams.

[Ama]

I love this!! For lack of a better term, I love how incredibly absurd it is.

[Vernice]

Gee. I'm not allowed to do LSD.

[breonne]

this summer, i spent five weeks in east africa. and. i totally got to pet some incredibly cute baby hyraxes. and they were soft and squishy.

[jenny]

What on earth are you talking about?

[14]

It's a secret that I can only reveal to a select few.

sorry.

xoxo
14

[Demon Kitty]

I love the pink kitties. My cat Demon Joozie is raising hell for food as I type.

[scungilli]

may the tawdry music continue beautiful and the german cats stay the hell away (if you want them to) ...

[Noelegy]

Oh, I so want a print of this!!

[tala]

i second that motion for prints. i have a wall of pink monster-type creatures that i collect and this would be perfect for it!

Red peppers emerging like icicles from tender teacups I adore. They reach me. And against the pale walls of Jesus you spatter the ugly beauty of inside like pipe-cleaners dipped in india ink in every color except for invisible. Enchanted me.

[puff]

omg its like those pokemon, jigglypuff!

[TwoPotatoThreePotato]

It's only because the table surface has been worn smooth by the elements. You run your fingers across the top, feeling each of the grooves gently etched. They look foreboding but leave no splinters. A gold coin dances between your knuckles, clacking loudly against the tabletop as the shiny disc moves from digit to digit.

Somewhere between the ring-finger and pinky knuckles the coin lodges into one of the tiny chasms in the finish. You try to coolly pull it from the groove, but it refuses to leave its new home jutting halfway out of the wood. Your veneer of untroubled cavalier ease is eroding, but no one else is there so it's time to summon all of your powers to retrieve what's yours.

Slowly you rise from the chair you've been sitting in as your right foot gently eases the seat away from you and the table. The gold coin shines in the sunlight flirting through the window: The coin is imbedded in the south side of the table.

You walk round to the north side of the table, sun to your back. The ambling warmth of the room almost makes you want to fall asleep. You stand next to it for several seconds, hips level with the tabletop. Then with the most lithe and graceful movements you can muster, you alight to the top of it.

Now you stand on its weathered surface staring down at the coin. Slowly you lower yourself until the right side of your face rests against the caverns of the water-and-weather-softened wood. The coin is now in front of your nose, and you move your face closer to the shiny thing. Your mouth opens, and you deliberately bring your teeth together--canine-to-canine--against the surface of the gold. With one barely perceptable movement of your neck you pull the coin from its wooden prison with your teeth. It rolls to the corner of the table and over the edge. From the corner of your eye you watch the gold coin hit the cool stone floor: The whirring clatter of the spinning metal against the floor echoes through the room until the small shiny disc settles. Heads, you win.