From the annals of the lost journals of Alvin Stomack:

Crystal source, sally the course.
Lummox so sweet, the lamblady bleat.
Belay that remark, it suit(e)s you n(ot/aught),
For nothing is jaded... when incarcerated
Eating Manwhich for breakfast,
Dux Deluxe for lunch;
I'll prime your deck fast
and pocket the punch.

-aS

Rejoice, friends! For I, Alvin Stomack, performer and playright, will imminently be performing my one-man preview of my auto-scripted musical theatre production Rent Brussell: The Duodenum of God next week at the Schlepp Lorkins Pest Control Services Theatre in Jinjaba Proper on Wednesday. Free tickets are available from yours truly (truthfully!), ( Read more... )

Take a bite of the Exposition Tomato:
   It has been nearly a year since the fa(i)t(h)eful quinceanera, the brouhaha that it was. I, Alvin Stomack, cheerful friend and bubbly mentor, in spite of having seen brighter days more worthy of that soul-sought planet that starts with an A (not Alvin, not alabaster), soldier through the duldrums of the bread ( Read more... )

Overtaken by an unspoken force, I fell to my knees, clawing the cement of the amphitheatre stage with my neatly-clipped fignernails as my transformation began. The moon cast her light upon my smiling philosopher face, and I presently felt my supple skin  transform into yellow scales and the spontaneous plethora of blood in my swollen veins turn ( Read more... )

"All applause, menopause!" I exhorted through the microphone, my voice reverberating across the gathered throng athwart the stage at the amphitheatre. A few clapped; others looked forward puzzledly. "Now comes the moment I have been waiting for for fifty years. The moon is full and ready to cast its energizing light upon my head, for at midnight, ( Read more... )

Let's take it from the top... It was November 7th, that fateful night of the holy quinceanera, at the Petronila Steak Arena, where I, Alvin Stomack, and the multitudinous inhabitants of Christmas Island were gathered to celebrate my 50th day of birth.
   King Steak having been escorted to the nearest Christmas Island White Castle to calm himself ( Read more... )

'Lectric lederhosen and starbright petticoats flashed before our eyes, the ocular organs of Secretia and myself, I, Alvin Stomack, friend and Eternal Birthday Boy, as we paraded down Electric Avenue on the great pumpkin coach, dividing Jinjaba in half as we made our way to the Royal Amphitheatre (long since dedicated as the Petronila Steak Arena), ( Read more... )

Sit to sit
And pack to pack
We're going on a camping trip.
Kiss your beaver
And smack the tick
But, certes, do not harm her.
Punch the button
And buck the dog.
The London fog creeps sweetly.
Pish the posh
And track Tom Cruise
And all the lemming sycophants
Coated with ooze.

-aS

Yes indeed. Worry not, friends and students, for my story will be concluded soon. Due to the most unfortunate of techno-philosopher circumstances, I had to send my notebook computer back to the manufacturer to be refurbishated. Young Franklin Goy has been kind enough to allow me to use his world wide web today, but only for a few minutes because he ( Read more... )

November 7th (Tuesday)

A sense of urgency strikes the tibias of my arms! Preparations for tonight's quinceanera extravaganza are underway! My friends and followers have been working hard ever since the driving away of Miles Burger and his suitors (who tragically decimated my colorful tuxedo collection in their hasty exodus). At 9pm last night ( Read more... )