Facebook Prompts

I posted a status that was simply, “Animal. Movie. Food. Color. Go.” People commented accordingly. Then I wrote things. Here are those things.

Penguin. Almost Famous. Gyros. Red.

you can eat
a gyro from a penguin
that is to say
of penguin meat
but you will continue
to hunger
and when the red
seeps from the center
of your mass
to head and ass
and outward still
and the phone rings
and your father
asks who that pretty thing
from Almost Famous
is and how your mother
used to be like that with bands
and tells you
that’s how they met
you will regret
you ordered
from
that Antarctic food truck

“Dogs. The English Patient. Maryland Blue Crab. Blue.”

Netflix recommended
The English Pateint
“because you watched”
The English Patient
and you say
fuck you algorithm
and hit play anyway

the dog comes in
asking questions
that you can’t hear
but insist on stupidly
answering with questions
who’s a good boy
wanna treat
wanna go outside
me, yes, and yes, of course
but answer my questions
it says but you don’t

it’s ok
its patience is English
polite like that
silent like that
smug like that
so tell the tv
you “prefer” one ad
over the other
stick a knife in the back
and crack a crab snack
they’re not really blue
but your snuggie is
and you realize
when a backfin
slices your skin
that a snuggie is
a hospital gown

Octopus. Beetlejuice. Crab Soup. Black.

octopus octopus octopus
and he appears
pops wetly into existence
and you feel bad
because this desert’s
no place for tentacles

help, he squishes
so you do
it’s your fault after all
so you open the seam
that some call
a belly button
and it smells crabby, soupy
and you stick him right in

it smells crabby, soupy, he squirps
and you go, I know, right
but not like crab soup, he florbs
and you go, I know, right

the black hits you first
and you sink against the sand
you’ll die soon, but you figure
the octopod’s got at least an hour past that
maybe two
even if your insides go cold
he’s used to sub-freezing ocean temperatures
so fuck it

just before you die, you ask
why his existence follows Beetlejuice rules
and you swear before you fade
that he splats
that he’s never seen the movie
just the cartoon
and you’re gone

“The Gray. All four in one right there, sir.”

you wonder aloud
about Neilsen ratings
and how for years
you thought they were called
Neeson ratings
like maybe Liam Neeson’s
great-grandfather
had invented the system
and it wasn’t until
a trivia host
at an Applebee’s corrected you
loudly
embarrassingly
publicly
that you knew the truth

slop it on there
you tell the cafeteria moth
and it thwocks the gruel
directly on the tray
even though there’s a plate right there
and it tells you
that some have to burn in the sun
so that others can bask in the shade
and you think
it’s the dumbest smart thing
you’ve ever heard
and then you sneeze
on its wing dust
because it’s a giant fucking moth
and it’s flapping like crazy
and surely this is
a health code violation of some sort

Animal. Sleeper. Taco. Periwinkle.

the website has a shirt for sale
a mock-up of a band logo
for the Muppet band
Electric Mayhem
against a periwinkle background
and Woody Allen buys it,
not because he’s a fan of the Muppets
(he’s not)
and not because he’s a fan of the music
(he’s not)
but because
Electric Mayhem
anagrams into
Them Creamy Lice
and he once had to eat
a maggot taco
on Season 2 of
Dare That Director
and he actually enjoyed it
and he’s old
and can’t recall
the difference
between
maggots and lice

“Owl. The Grand Budapest Hotel, SoonDubu Soup. Green.”

lost your job
over a bowl
of SoonDubu soup
which is weird
because you got
broken up with
over a bowl of SoonDubu soup
because they were insistent
on there being a space between
Soon and Dubu and
you were like HEY
you were like WHOA
you were like NO WAY PAL
and you ditched ’em

green light, go
this ain’t an Anderson film
this ain’t quirk on quirk
camera angles
and wit,
you quit
and the soundtrack
is a drive back home

“some of those Winnie the Pooh characters
got screwed when it came to names
what, like
Winnie, Eeyore, and Tigger
(and that’s one’s a stretch)
and meanwhile all the others
were just what they were
like Rabbit, Piglet, and Owl
and that’s pretty fucked”

you stop typing
and think “well that’s
as good an OkCupid profile
as any” and hit “Save Changes”
copypasta to LinkedIn
“Save Changes”
and let ’em come to you

“Endangered White Rhino. The Warriors. Endangered White Rhino. Teal.”

the white rhino
is a mastermind indeed
get him drunk
good and drunk
and he’ll tell you
in slurred blurs
that when it comes to
he, him, and his kind
there’s been no danger,
endangerment,
at all
or at any time

then he’ll die
because white rhinos
can’t metabolize alcohol

but just go to his place
and written in teal Sharpie
will be his manifesto
and therein you’ll learn
that to gain the mystical
invisability powers
of the white rhino
you must consume his flesh

cook him up good
and eat him up yum
and then open your arms
like Cyrus and will yourself to cloak
because once you cloak
you’re gonna take out
those dudes down the block
who were always messing with your stuff
and you’ll be all
CAN YOU DIG IT
and whappa-POW
they’ll be dead

but you never cloak
you remain quite visible
and you’re arrested for
killing an endangered species
but they’re not endangered, you cry
look, a manifesto, you cry
but you’ve been tricked
for the white rhino is a mastermind indeed

“Hawk. Robocop. Steak. Red.”

death row
last meal’s a steak
and you’re here cuz
it’s hard to
stay out of trouble
when your hand
is half-hawk
pinky, ring fing, a thumb
but a hawk
where your middle, index,
and half your palm
should be

sure, hailing cabs is great
a “TSEEEEEERRRRAW!”
can outclass
any hotel’s cab jockey
with ease

but tennis is hard
handshakes are hell
and a beak can barely hold a spoon

plus, it murdered, like, a ton of kids

too bad that gang annihilated
those specific parts of your hand
and that corporation
replaced it with a hawk
but it was that or no hand
and you love hawks
so you agreed to the hawk

but look at you now
red meat’s complete
and you got a death walk
cuz your hand is half-hawk

“Parrot. Paranormal Activity 4. Grilled Cheese. Silver.”

you get him home
and he says nothing but
“grilled cheese
is not a sandwich”
and you think it’s cute

a week goes by
and you’ve tried
hello
goodbye
good night
but no
“grilled cheese
is not a sandwich”
is the only reply

Still cute. Mostly.

a month passes
and you shaky cam
him in action
and put it on YouTube
and
Parrot Doesn’t Know
What Grilled Cheese Is
gets a billion views

a year passes
the bird says nothing new
and you hate it now
and you notice a commenter
on the video
SilverScreenSurfer46
says that at :27,
she sees something shiny
in the parrot’s mouth
and it’s not a tongue.

you go to the bird
and it goes
“grilled cheese
is not a sandiwich”
and you scream
IT’S TOTALLY A FUCKING SANDWICH
and you grab it ’round the neck
and pry open its beak
and look in
and you see a tiny, impish
demon in the back of the bird’s throat

It has eyes.

And you know immediately
that you don’t like
those eyes.

It speaks.

mY nAmE iS GRilLEd CHeESe
i aM nOt a A fUCKiNg Sandwich

Fox. The One I Love. Bread. Rainbow.

The Fox and the Rainbow: A Fable

A soft rain had come to the meadow, and so Rainbow decided to visit.

The creatures of the meadow, Rainbow’s friends, were all like. “Hey, man, what’s up?” and Rainbow was pretty stoked as well.

Fox showed up and everybody was like, “Fuck, it’s Fox.”

And Rainbow was like, “It’s cool, guys. Fox and I patched things up. We’re cool, we’re cool.”

And the Fox goes, “Totally. Hey, Rainbow?”

“Yeah?” replied transparent refraction of light.

“May I go over you to see your pot of gold at the end?”

The creatures of the meadow all simultaneously did that thing where you suck air through your teeth because shit just got REALLY socially awkward.

Rainbow, though, was like, completely stone-faced. He knew where this was going.

“You know, Fox, if I let you go look at the pot of gold at my end, you are sure to steal some of the gold.”

“Rainbow, my dear friend, I wouldn’t ever dream of doing that.”

“Look, man, you’re a fox. Foxes do shit like that.”

The Fox gasped. “That’s pretty specist, dude.”

Possum nodded.

Rainbow wasn’t about to take that shit. “Look, Fox, it’s not specist. It’s the reason we got into a fight last time. You asked to check out the gold, I let you over, and you reached for the gold, dude.”

The Fox laughed. “I was only reaching out so that I could hold it to appreciate it all the more. I assure you, I have no use for your gold.”

“Plus, I’ll bake you some bread and we can watch The One I Love. I hear it’s pretty boss,” he added.

Possum nodded.

Rainbow sighed. “Ok, fine, you can go over me, and check out the pot of gold, but NO picking it up, ok? Then turn around and get your ass back here.”

The Fox grinned. “I’m down.”

So the creatures of the meadow watched as Fox climbed across Rainbow and headed back toward the end where the pot of gold was sure to be. He climbed up, up, up and he clibmed down, down, down, well out of sight of the meadow creatures, but well within sight of Rainbow, because Rainbow didn’t really have eyes, he just kinda like, had general awareness of things happening on or around him, I guess?

Ok.

Fox reached the pot of gold. It shone brightly even from several feet away. He was totally going to steal some of the gold, but how, now that Rainbow forbade him from grasping it in his hands?

Then Fox had an idea. He would simply lean into the pot, hands-free, and gobble it right up, then walk back and Rainbow would be none the wiser.

Fox stuck his head inside the pot, the gold nearly blinding him, and began to lick up the coins, one by one.

“Hey, said Rainbow, “Why are you sticking your head in the pot?”

“Only to look at the beauty of the gold more closely, my friend!” Fox held up his hands. “See? My hands are nowhere near it!”

“Fine.”

The Fox gobbled up more and more gold and his stomach grew fatter and fatter.

“Ok,” said Rainbow. “That’s enough. Get back here!”

Fox knew he had spent as much time as he could before seeming suspicious. He yanked his head from the pot quickly, but when he tried to run, he found he could barely move! The gold was simply too heavy. With all that weight in his stomach, Fox was in no condition to run.

“I said, come on, Fox! Move!”

“Um, I must rest a moment,” stalled Fox. “The walk was quite tiring, and the glory of the gold has exhausted my–”

“Oh my god, shut up about my fucking gold,” said Rainbow. “You’re so weird. Walk. NOW.”

Fox slooowly began to climb up, up, up, and climb down, down, down, his stomach grumbling and growling all the while.

Soon, thought Fox, I shall be home and I can expell the gold safely and in secret!”

But it was not to be. As soon as Fox stepped off Rainbow, he vomited all over the place, the gold rocketing into the face of every creature of the meadow with great force and liquidity.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT, FOX!” screamed Rainbow. “I SWEAR TO GOD, I AM GONNA–“

“Wait, hold up.” interrupted Deer, shaking off a ton of bile-soaked coins.

“Yeah, hang on a second,” said Badger, brushing some of the spit-smelling metal from his snout.

“Rainbow…you mean…you had THIS much gold” asked Sparrow.

“Yeah, this is like…millions of dollars in gold,” said Bobcat.

“Yeah,I thought, you like, maybe had a couple pieces,” said Skunk.

“Right?” said Otter. “Or like, maybe it was some fake pirate gold and Fox was just crazy.”

Possum nodded.

“But this,” said Deer. “This is a ton of gold, Rainbow. You know we’re all, like, pretty fucking poor, dude. Squirrel over there needs an operation, and Snake is like, mega in-debt. You know this. And you were holding out on us?”

“Not cool,” said Skunk.

“Not at all,” said Otter.

“Get the fuck out of here!” screamed Sparrow.

Soon the meadow was filled with the voices of angry creatures, all yelling for Rainbow to leave. Rainbow frowned and went away forever, never to return or have any friends ever again.

And all the creatures of the meadow killed Fox, who was likely to die anyway due to internal bleeding.

MORAL: DON’T BE A GREEDY DICK.

Bear. TMNT. Tacos. Red.”

“The best part
about hard tacos,
is the urgency”
said the bear
and he had a point.
“See, you gotta
fill the shell fast
and chomp it down
before the filling
soaks through
and ruins the
whole thing.”

“The taste
is in the fleeting
joy within the urgency, man.
It’s like a culinary tickle.”

But the bear left the bar
on his giant red tricycle
before I could ask him
how that translated into
other forms of taste,
like taste in film,
and if shells smartly
filled by live-action, CGI,
or animated turtles
made any damn
bit of difference.

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