Greetings from this side of the cannon Weasel Lover,

Aug 2008

   it has been too many rainbow loving days since last communiqué happened to take a peek into those farthest reaches of shadowy dark ever moving recesses of didn’t even know they were there, kiddo. all the way down to business and back alley running anybody’s friends who try so hard to let everybody be enlightened of how much their few years have empowered themselves with knowledge when actually standing in front of their mirror in their own private space allotted to them by birth they come to the realization they know very little indeed. OOPS! pesky lizards dive bombing my razor thin path almost caused me to let go my grip there for a second, kiddo. i’m back to the straight and narrow though now, weasel lover.

don’t forget; running in skirts with dusty bows, journal notes of highs and lows, pure sweet love how easy it goes, never true acceptance from head to toes, calling a brujo though seeing only crows, not ”needing a weatherman to know which way the wind blows” or seeing your best friend crying, dying.

calling from the front wrapped heads and crime fighting doctors with former dancers phoned in the suspicious politicians and the warped plan of their corrupted walls found hiding them inside. like a mouse in a maze we all surmise what is hidden just around the next corner.. as the Rastafarian with miles of dreads tucked up under his tam on the beach trying to sell you a conch shell for your mother at home and tells you he will soon come with your change from the hundred as you watch him disappear into the sea spray on down the shore. you are left there listening to the waves slapping the sand and foam up around your feet staring at all those conch shells spread out before you like huge grains of sand and having faith you will get back your ninety-five. Well hA! guess what? two hours soon come, mon, Jah. here Mon.

all those science geek fiction nuts trekking around about space being the final freaking frontier. they got it all wrong, kiddo. space is not THE final  frontier! the final frontier is FINAL!

yours in brujos and crows

Basil Fassad

Fifth in Command

Greetings From the Front, Shadow Dweller,

Feb 2008

     Alas! We meet again. Yes, I know you told Bosco 

and his whole elk that you were rid of me once and for all. 

Well, guess who I happened by on my way to be saved from 

those god awful savages from the lowlands, huh? None other 

than the big guy himself. At first I didn't realize who I 

was conversing with what with his elaborate disguise and all. 

After awhile though, right before the Chianti kicked my little

 head to the Canary Islands and back did it hit me who I had 

been so delightfully talking with. Oh, he tried to assure me 

how mistaken I was, but when I yanked half his beard out just 

to prove that I did indeed have all my faculties about me, 

and that he must have used an extremely strong adhesive to 

bond that hair so well to his chin, that I convinced him he 

was who I said he was before he screamed something about me 

to take more medication and ran faster then my eyes could keep 

up with him then jumped on his bird then flew away, bee geezes. 

The only reason I mentioned this to you now, is he reminded me 

about taking medication that brought my thoughts to you.

Remember how you said never to take any medication after 8 o'clock 

at night because the consequences would be more seriously harmful 

than a pack of rabid weasels singing some Celine Dion song while 

chewing my flesh at the high school senior prom that I didn't even 

go to because I had to work in the hospital kitchen at the front 

line in Timbuktu? Remember that lizard lover? Well, the monkey that 

I rescued last go round shocked it all back to me with a resounding 

'HELLO I FEEL LIKE A NAIL' up side of my tender little head late 

this afternoon. All because I took some meds after 8 at night. 

Now I've got this tree branch sticking out from the side of my 

head just behind my ear. Woke up with it that way this early morning. 

I didn't even notice it until after lunch some multi-colored bird 

with this bearded guy riding it landed on my branch and started 

squawking in my ear 'bout thousands of 3 legged spiders on the rampage 

on the hunt for equal rights for gimpy spiders. Talk about not being 

able to hold your psychosis!

  Anyway, the big guy sez to download AIM, use like you normally 

would, then the night before you leave, send a communiqué and further 

instructions will be forwarded when all security checks out and the 

President sez it's okay.

  Time's up, got to get to the next island before all planes land. 

Sorry to rush off, but I got my orders, you know. So, I miss 

WHISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSH, damn watch out WHISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSh, 

stop sending those lizards dive bombing my way, Lizard Lover, you much.

 Love your way!

     Fifth in Command,

            Basil Fassad

Greetings From the Front, Weasel Hoarder Louder More,

OCT 2007
After all the recent explosions that shook our very foundations and cracked everything beyond any hope of salvation or repair I now face any and all large or small pockets of safe haven and refuge rapidly crumbling around me since our last communiqué. I saw a light and moved swiftly toward it, when it disappeared as I approached. I had seen that light in the distance for many years feeling a small sense of it being there comfort, but never paid it too much mind and now that I have a bona fide need for it, POOF! Everyone that was once here has gone on. Even my close true has decided it’s a new life indeed , hopped on an exciting rumble ride leaving me here standing confused and glazed. I didn’t so much mind the ride itself, but GEEZ there lizard bobo, to just keep riding and make him your new true? I knew at times it was difficult to withstand, but does the sum equal the solution? I don’t know. There was also that nagging incoming that I just overlooked. The immediacy of it all seems very stark and raging. Those menacing back country demon lizards yesterday infiltrated my mind with the worst pounders yet. I cringe whenever I see those smirking wheezing distorted little creep bastards heading my way. How they just appear from out of nowhere to constantly rearrange my thoughts and wreak havoc on our well being makes me shiver worse than I’m waiting in the dead of winter in a whiteout standing outside my old home naked with thoughts of parrots and Christmases past literally exploding right behind my weary dreary eyes on fire. I tell you those miniature giants from the nether land are bent on just basically ruining all they come in contact with and no regard for whom or what falls in their wake, those filthy OHHHH maannn!!!! They really twist it to you when they hear someone jawing bad toward them. they whistle up their hell bent mangy enemy partners those shaking breaking hell dogs from opposite south town by way of the river that seeps over the wall.

Well, there goes another loving trusted memory fleeing wistfully back and forth upward and away toward its own little private oblivion only to rain down over the unsuspecting masses that adorn such laughter into tears and social freaking anxiety slinking unnoticed to your very soul, there Sunshine. Again, on a lighter note having nada to connect between either or any communiqués thus far, IT’S THOSE BELLS!!. God, I adore the sounds of the deep bells in the distance that take me back to nap time as a toddler in the sea breeze of the former days of don’t worry don’t care laziness of the unknown/unsuspecting/and unaware. Geez there Lieutenant, here’s a bumper sticker on this abandoned transport in front of me that reads, ‘A PERFECT DAY FOR BANANAFISH’. What the hell is that suppo…OH DAMN….those little fuckers just keep pushing and pushing….do you hear that? RING ON BELLS RING ON!! LOUDER MORE!! RINGRINGLOUDERMORE!! Say Sweet of Body and Mind it’s only the beginning. Most of the consequences will pass as all things do.
Don’t forget to say Hello to….ow ow oww cha..
                                                           Basil Fassad
                                                                    Fifth in Command

FUCK!

HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?

oh man, you ok?! here, here let me help you up.

goddamn man, what the fuck!!?

jesus man, you ripped your pants. you okay. what the hell happened?

just tell me what the FUCK that is!!? i need darker glasses, man.

what are you talking about. what is what? i don’t see anything.

you don’t see anything! what the FUCK MAN! you don’t see?

what are you…

i’m talking serious crap here man, what the fuck is that?! i’m blinded!

are you talking about the sun?  the sun? we did step outside you know.

the SUN?! the fucking SUN? that’s the fucking SUN?!

ah, yes. that is the sun. the fucking sun, okay?

well, what the goddamn hell is the fucking sun doing blinding me at night?

at night?

what the hell is the goddamn fucking sun doing out? i’m fucking blinded!

it’s two in the afternoon.

fuck! what?

and we are in Florida, so the sun…

what the fuck! Florida?

Florida.

what the goddamn fuck is the sun doing out in the middle of the afternoon

  in fucking Florida, MAN!? who the hell is responsible for that shit?! probably

  all those fucking lizards they got over running this goddamn fucking place. what

  the fuck is going the fuck on? i’m fucking blinded goddamn it!

man, you okay?

yeah, i’m fucking great man. what’s a matter you? FUCK! we better get back in

    here and have a couple more drinks while they get this whole whacked out sun in the aftergoddamnfuckingnoon shit straightened  the fuck out.

yeah…. yeah, that might be a good idea.

you’re fucking goddamn fucking straight it’s a good…hey, you got a cigarette? i am

   fucking blinded you know. goddamn it i need a fucking cigarette. goddamn fucking

   lizards…BLINDED! where’d you say we are?

we are in…

where the fucking hell are we goddamn  going …

well you said…

hey man look, it’s a fucking bar. we should go in and have a goddamn drink.

ah, yeah, let’s do that.

you know, somehow i got fucking blinded here man, you got a fucking cigarette?

merry christmas now dismiss us

sorrow sad sweet sinister lies
all turn true in buy and buy
sister susan sure swings slowly
silky sadness seems solemnly
in me (sometimes)
sad mad glad sad so scheme me
up your good shepherd
painting waiting panting raping
Christmas spirit oh to wear it oh to
lose it (crying)
electric light colored bright
what a sight remember only a dollar
ninety-eight can’t wait or pant to
sister susan swinging surely silky
slowly sadness round a corner much much
sooner much much older bolder than before
the door was never open (the story of old)
so search for bright electric colored
light pretty oh paper greeting card
and exchange through fine land not touched
by hand but band you ribbon
and bow.
silky swinging surely sadness grows glows
sister susan
for today timeless far away timeless and
far away we all away changing ever so
surely swinging silky sister sad sue
but for me and you
bright electric card greeting
so who is to say just which way
electric sadness surely slowly swings
bells rings background sings unnoticed
and timeless
knowing no other not wanting to bother
(or knowing but not bothering) sure seems
like a winner
even for sure a joy dinner later laughter
later later new yet un owned
to be shown (adored)
the lore has changed so
slowly sadness borne away covered
to this very day though somewhere
to be found
around
some meaning of why the giving
sweet susan so slowly you
say so show me
is it in that bright electric tree
that bound ribbon and bow
package for me or that star afar
and timeless.


peace and love

hang up the phone

Jason: ok ok ok hello…hello??

ron: just so you know jason, your camel kicked me in the head and rifled through my pockets taking everything i had left. i barely raised my head to hear him laughing his hump off as i watched him galloping in your direction singing "happy days are here again". just as i got myself to my feet that unicorn jabbed me in the back; ran over me hollering 'don't mess with my camel honey'!!

oh, and they took the carrot. now i got nothing, except memories about those two cherries and a face full of dirt...

duuuuuuuuude, what's up with your camel man? he's outta control and so is his little hussy.

ron...ron is that you? wait what??! where the hell are you? my camel did what? no no, my camel would never…a unicorn??? wait, where the hell are…

well that camel will do almost anything if you just sling some turkish gummy black in its direction. have to be careful to include its little hussy unicorn or she will light up your backside quite rightly and unforgiving. she is partial to red opium and starts to chant "In Xanadu did Kubla Khan..."

i don’t have one iota of an idea of what you are talking about. did you catch up to my favorite neighbors? you were suppose to be…

ooooh, well, i’m out on that part. but it’s been a hell of a trip. best beware what amount you allot to this revenge idea. you could just give your motley duo the neighbors address. tell them it's an OP den with free goods for sample. just sit back and listen to the consequence of a jerked addict camel with a fire breathing drooling hussy as an escape dream trigger loaded with a full magazine and fresh blood dripping from her horn tip when your neighbor offers up a distorted face puzzle of an expression seeing that thru a busted down door and soiled linen. anyway good luck with that. i was out as soon as i found out they were sitting on a cache of missile launchers.

look, you are in dire need of sleep i’m venturing; just enough to get all that shit out of your system. did you go see the doctor about your …

oh, it was nothing. i was given the wrong diagnosis, besides trees are asking questions. gotta go. do me a favor and make sure you water the plant. see ya...

8^th day

Jason: hello yeah yeah…say man, where the hell have you been? you need to start leaving your phone on so…

ron: that's so sweet... ok i been gone since feb 4th or 8th or shit who cares. let me tell you jason your camel took me for a hell of a ride there captain. and his little hussy if you remember this at all. well she turned out to be, well hmmm she, ok not so bad through all the stitches and bruises. shes a very loving unicorn if there is such oh by the way, you been keeping an eye on that delicate plant have you, that most precious flower? making sure her thirst was well quenched?

ron hey ron

bravo my good man. you know your camel informed me of many a tall tale throughout our travels and trippings amongst the sheets and galleries between the blowing winds up high in the trees. i tell you out on the dotted line alligator alley at 3 in the morning with empty bellied gators croaking on either side was more than your well versed camel friend had bargained for and he left me to fend off that 4-way orange barrel sunshine state by my lonesome. anyway, it’s all too much for me…i just wanted to…

look look …let me say something… we haven’t heard…i mean where have you…

oh shit, was i suppose to tip that camel...? anyway i was driving like 65-70 and had blur machines whizzing by my face but i was as happy as a, as a... well i was sticking to 65 mainly because of the warrant and i didn't want to end up in any ole jail in the deep south with that great big huge battle flag outside the cell and i don't know why after all the resistance well why they don't just fly the 'Bonnie Blue’ and save a lot of feelings hurt, but i am sticking to 65mph (and loving the palms you see) because as i mentioned the warrant you know.

could you slow down for a second and answer me…

ooooh shit man…guess who just woke up and is none too happy that your camel isn’t around!! i gotta tell ya i forgot all about her! sorry man, but i’ve got to pull over and get a different car. this one has a bloodthirsty hussy unicorn in it i’ve got to leave way behind…

Jason: wait, what?!!

ron: i’ll call i’ll call don’t worry i’ll

Greetings From the Front Lizard Dweller Shadow Lover,

NOV 2006

Let me begin by voicing my concerns for you and yours continued safety and welfare. The last communiqué that was delivered from out here related how this continued evolving darkness is starting to overtake just about all no matter what your history to this exact point in time, you will be affected. What with those back country lizard bastards who have now teamed up with those angry hell bent dogs from their past constantly creeping in and taking everything they can get their filthy greasy scaly humps and lumps they call claws and paws on. Planting those damn pounders in our heads and smirking to the sun, like those little pill popping crazed half-wit twinge loving blasts from the nether land know how to even blacken that to smithereens and reek the havoc that is going to permanently attach itself to everything you think, say, do or hold dear in your life from this moment on. Reminds me of the time I had a parrot. Not one of those multicolored huge squawkers, but a parrot nonetheless. It was two-toned green with a brilliant red head. I loved that parrot and religiously gently cared for it for years. I treated it as if it was a little part of my past I carried around with me to identify with and hold on to. As luck would slap me around a little I was outside cleaning his cage when two of those back country lizard demons approached us and started cackling and throwing parrot slurs around pretty loosely, calling me a weasel lover, rattling both me and my parrot. In the confusion of me trying to shoo away those little smirking life rippers, my parrot escaped from the cage to a tree a few feet away just as those two squealing spots of dark poofed into nothing, nada. At first I just stood there, staring at my parrot and he returned my gaze. I looked back at the open cage, looked back at my parrot; he let out a growling shriek and took flight. I watched as he flew upwards, turned and squawked, “Thanks for everything!” and disappeared. I turned, looked at the open cage, looked back to the empty sky and immediately shrank 2 inches right there as all that beach sand just unceremoniously drained from my being. Just that 2 inches reduction and I saw everything differently, achingly tilted from that point on.

Geez, I wonder what all of this will eventually accomplish, destroy or whatever the justification for how all this will turn out which you can believe is not what was set out to achieve. Somehow, somewhere, logic took a cruise and in typical cruise fashion left any and all worries behind which left us here to fight off these horrible demons that persistently batter what little confidence and minuscule will that still resides, maybe, within.

On a lighter note, that wasn’t part of that last communiqué, the bells have been getting louder and sweeter, which is a welcome melody that tends to drown out all the cackling, pounding and escaping sand that reverberates endlessly at the Front at any given moment. Oh geez, what the hell is that barreling rapidly in this direction? Well Lieutenant, I better go seek shelter and justification. Bells! Bells! Squawk! It is solitary in this DARK? Say hello to JezzBo and Zippy’s sister Zooey,

See more glass?

Basil Fassad FIFTH in COMMAND

Greetings from the Front Zetta Lover,

                                                                                                                FEB2006
As you have become accustom to the infrequency of these communiqué’s, one must ask oneself as to the ...DANG!!! I so dislike it when those blasted back
country lizards dive bomb me and then just crack me with their tails and laugh amongst themselves Not that I don't believe they have every right, but that tilt of the head and slowly winking at me afterwards is what gets my hair standing in a quiet escalating rage. Damn those lizards and their back country ways. I tell you if I wasn't such a distinguished officer sworn to uphold all that we hold dear up here at the front, I'd, man just once I like to just call a lizard a lizard, you know!
Anyway, as I was saying, I was commanded...Jeez...you know lizards and I go way back. Back before you couldn't refer to those slimy, umm, uh Lee Zards as lizards. Sorry, got off track again, but I remember most definitely as your sister and her soul singing parrot she brought back from St. Lucia back in 1952 used to sit around on Thursday nights slinging back the ole stink with the whole crew from under the boardwalk back there off highway A1A listening to the surf and the snap/pop of the fire and not one of those back country jim artists to be seen for miles. That would really tick them off and they would shake, crack their tails and think of ways to exact revenge. Man, those memories are fresh whenever one of those decadent little slant eyed...you know they used to spit in my coffee right in front of me?
Anyway, I hear tell they took to gambling pretty heavy having a load of losses to flash around and now have to deal with some angry hell-bent devil dogs on a daily basis which kinda makes you feel a little... aw jeez, what the fuck am I rambling on and on about? Those little sham shysters have a trick snack way of infiltrating the ole grey matter and setting up squatters rights damning the torpedoes straight to your helpless numbed screaming floundering aimless soul there, moonbeam, …check please Doctor.

Well, I have to go fill up the injection bible chapter 11, verse 21! I was commanded to… pass along these …to you. Oh nice, I now can’t even find them. I seriously hope I didn’t throw them out like I did the tank last week. Man, try explaining accidentally, unknowingly throwing out a TANK! I swear it’s those pounders inside those…those… I’ll keep looking and pass them along at a much later date. Yours in the Darkening Mist & Bamboo Affair

Basil Fassad
Fifth in Command


P. S You know there sunshine if you are caught, this will self destruct in less than.....poof...poof…………psssssss..POOF!

Greetings from the Front Lizard Baiter,

JULY2005

This communiqué finds me under heavy fire wishing for some Hare Krishna’s with bullhorns on high shouting peace at the brain of the world, and incense. More on the matter at hand though. My question to you is, would you go in the bathroom and converse if there is a genuine moron in the stall next to you crying for Jesus and reciting the names of all the most devastating bomb attacks east of the Mason-Dixon Line south of the 33rd parallel from the mid-1860’s to the present? The only reason I ask is this happened to me recently and the poor fellow thought I was being rude for making a quick exit. He found me later sitting at my table dining in between the dogs, lizards and chickens just trying to peel some meat away from the bone and keep my bread close when this mad savant approaches blathering about me not showing any respect for not engaging him in conversation about bomb blasts and Jesus. “You’re going to Hell!” sez this mumbling madcap at which all the dogs started to growl and show some teeth. “Don’t you realize the Cuban Missile Crisis wasn’t actually a crisis in the real sense of the word? Kennedy and Khrushchev to keep that guerrilla Castro and his like poor, hungry and under their thumb drew it all up. They were all pissed about all the casinos and nightclubs being smashed up and closed down. Even Khrushchev called him an unshaven stupid jungle commie. Everyone knows it was Che Guevara who was the true revolutionary and Castro sentences him to Bolivia. Those weren’t even nukes under those tarps heading for Cuba back then, they were hundreds of Scandinavian socialites who Castro seemed to have a hankering for. Therefore, the theory just doesn’t pan out. They already had all those history books printed and the publisher wouldn’t give a refund, so they just let that story go out and stand. I’m telling you these poor excuses for bombs they kept dropping all over this sacred soil that was blessed by the Pope through his web site has me itching to go rough somebody up,” he rambled. “What the fuck are all these goddamn lizards everywhere!? What goddamn good are they anyway? I can see the chickens being here ‘cause hell, they’re food and they give you eggs, and the dogs eat the food you don’t want. However, the damn lizards! What do the goddamn lizards do for you? He started moving his tongue in and out of his mouth in a hysterical movement that I began to chuckle at. Just then, we took some incoming startling the chickens that haven’t given eggs since but didn’t seem to bother the dogs any who jumped at my plate and divided my meal amongst them. One of these bombs exploded right in front of this poor fool who got blown to Montserrat in the Lesser Antilles landing on his back with a lizard falling out of the sky right smack dab on this blithering idiots head. Odd too, it wasn’t the bomb blast hurling him skyward that killed him, it wasn’t even the fall and landing with a crumpled thump. It was when that lizard came hurtling out of the sky dive-bombing onto that heretics head that did him in. The lizard just rolled off slithering his tongue in/out sashaying on its way like nothing happened and it had been living there all its life and was glad to be home. Anyway, do you think I was rude for not talking to him when he was ranting in the stall? Now there’s more incoming and the chickens are clinging to my legs so I had better take some cover. Fax me the invitation and I will pass it along to Willy over at the Dew Drop Inn when he comes back with the next shipment of weasels and nut pickers. Keep those coupons coming. We should be out of here, what of us aren’t killed by then, by 2024. I’m going to need a warm bath.
Yours in Bamboo and chickens.
Fifth in Command, Basil Fassad

take me home to beznes

weird magoo and tally too went looking for

the farm. when just then a pig happened by

wanting to buy ole tally's arm. if i do that

explained tally, i will melt like cheese;

be served up in the middle of the road like

some forgotten slut, now please. suit

yourself the pig replied, then swaggered on

his way. turned and hollered over that curled

up tail, you know i'll be back one day. mark

my words you little brain, you will sell me

your arm, as sure as you're standing knee

deep in mud out here on this farm. then the

pig crested the hill, snorted and vanished

from sight. leaving weird magoo and tally

spoiling for a fight. let's go get that

little sucker, poke him good and roast him

'til he's done. naw tally, let's just rip

open his belly and leave him to rot in the

sun.

now while all this was taking place miss

pearl had them both in her sight, squeezed

the trigger and blew them away claiming it

served them right. some hair floated down, a

boot fell here, tally's arm hit the pig in

the head. 'what the hell' the pig exclaimed

as he snorted and fell over dead. when just from

the opposite direction a bullet caught miss

pearl by surprise. making her squeal and

holler, nailing her smack between the eyes.

'stay off my farm' the small boy screamed to a

bunch of dead. tell all your friends if they

come here, they can speak with mister lead.

he laid down his rifle, picked an apple and

started to chew. a bolt of lightning erupted

from the sky, struck the boy and split him in

two.

now the moral of the story, the lesson i can

tell, is don't throw all your love and money

down the wishing well. don't be so quick to

turn down a pig when he is so serious. stay

out of the sight of anybody who believes you

are delirious.

thanks for the time

(now i want the money)

yours in the wall,

weird magoo magaw's pa

number dream seven

...so he gets up checking his watch, asking Rubin “where are the buffalo Rubin? aren’t they late for their appointment.”

through the swinging gates a gypsy comes. fortunes, fortunes, your fortune today? Rubin wants to know where the buffalo are.

gypsy looks toward the sky and flashes Rubin one of those what buffalo looks. poor Rubin.

secretary with the horned rims cracks her gum and answers the ringing telephone as she tosses some silver gypsy’s way. “i know where the buffalo are” says horned rims, “want to talk to them Rubin? they’re on the phone.”

“ask them where they are!” cries Rubin, trying to satisfy his brain.

“they say they will be here shortly, one just got hit by a train!” answers horned rims smiling, looking lost in her own space. (crack)

“jeez, come on Rubin!” he says, studying his watch.

i interrupt “excuse me, if maybe i could use the buffalo’s time, they can use mine when they get here.”

Rubin, the gypsy and horned rims all turn looking at me. gypsy’s cymbals and bells slowly begin to fill the silent void. up through the stairwell flies a large crow, fluttering around horned rims never ending stack of red hair. Rubin leaps over trying desperately to shoo the bird back down the stairwell. gypsy starts laughing this ungodly laugh that howls, and begins twirling, cymbals clanking away.

by now i have to get their attention again. “excuse me, Rubin. you think the timepiece would give me an audience for just a few minutes?”

“where you from?’ Rubin inquires, “you know the buffaloes?’

gypsy’s howl has continuously grown louder. now she is spinning faster than the birds wings are flapping. the watch throws his hands in the air and points toward the door, looking at me. i get up glancing at Rubin. horned rims spills some words between cracks like, don’t use the ash trays until after noon. the buffaloes hate ashes. crack. the watch follows me inside. right away he is talking faster than a twirling gypsy. grudgingly i realize all his questions are meant for the buffaloes.

“excuse me please, watch,” i break in, “buffaloes couldn’t make it. i am here to present myself for the position you had advertised in the kansas city star.”

through the door gypsy flows, howling, twirling, bells, cymbals, fortunes and all her hair black as flying coal, and just as shiny. Rubin is at her heels. the crow races in for the ceiling trying to bang its way through a window up in a dusty corner surrounded by spider’s webs. spiders commence dropping like unwanted rain. watch is uncontrollably asking questions at the top of his voice, horned rims runs in with her pencil and pad struggling to take down every word.

that’s when i felt it. the walls i mean. the floor, desks nervously rumbling. shaking. moving. chairs growing faster with each word, pushing everyone but bird against the back wall. not wasting any time, i quickly run out through the door, pick up my hat and head for the stairwell. step, step, step. the rumbling turns to a violent roar. steps feel like water as they stretch away from the walls. i try grabbing for the handrail; it bends in my hand feeling of hot soft saltwater taffy. just outside the gates i see gypsy dancing; and the buffalo stampede the stairwell. i can hear Rubin hollering, “the buffalo are here!”

me and the gypsy disappear.

Greetings from the Front Twisted Skirt Fire,

February 2005

i know you caught that one in the glow of yonder moon last tuesday there weasel cultivator. no matter how times that little nexus search peanut pusher jams his finger down his own throat to pummel glory and the tiger sisters to oblivion, he won't get my share of the peace puzzle or the combination to the historic dwarf sights and counting whiskey resolve for mind numbing mornings that end at 5 o' DUCK.

no, i am not going to be articulated into the corner of their web with my juices sucked just for the sheer ability to immobilize any prey into a drooling stare like a school girl on her first date with a true lame idiot in a dizzy pair of pants and short on wallet. no, not even those shadow dwellers you so richly remember from the last communique can exist in the fringes of the campaign. if the uppers ever realize that it is they who have lost the whole freaking mission on bad tips and shaky interconnects, the last thing anyone will want to slack is their own eyelids there weasel hoarder. in them we trust? well, they lied.

remember, if you don't play the tune you were told to practice those many years ago under the BIG bow, you will forever bleed from the constant friction of the perfect song.

after they plastered the whole tribe with lizards and breadfruit knowledge enough to fit in between all the wrong treaties that scattered the mighty nation to smithereens, then and only then did they bomb the closest lackey that was helpless to figure out what happened until he was the last one standing, then he fell.

anyway, i was ordered to pass this picture of the suspect along, so your ragtag group of pistoleros could finally get some necessary coveted sleep; and look for the elusiveness of love, not war?

back to the misty fog of war by the misleader of justice gone terribly backward into bamboo of boo. who sees?

twist a joke, choke the smoke. hang up if there is no dial tone...

Fifth in Command,

Basil Fassad

Greetings from the Front Terp Few Donella,

May 2004

That's weasel speak which you should understand, weasel lover. I saw your favorite gas bubble hanging around the touch and go, just basically being a giant pest and drinking too much dirty water, which everybody knows isn't too smart of a trick when you are thin as a broken weeping willow tree branch and calling for a mercy shunt to take you to the promised land, there weasel lover. Don't think me and my friends aren't savvy to your tricks. Me and the skeletons were dancing up a storm and rattling a few bones to ' rock the casbah' down Juarez way next to the juke joint along highway 41 by your best friends sisters phone booth heaven. Remember that story?

Well anyway, that's when your helicopter girls dropped in to pretty much steal everything they could grab that wasn't attached to someone or something, which means they grabbed my little monkey friend, Fredo. Fredo and I have been through a lot of mud and wine together and his daily shot of whiskey, toe and temple rub. I tell you he gets agitated if he gets knocked off his routine. I do not want you to be responsible for the loss of any monkey's juice, so my advice to you would be contact your helicopter friends and tell them just let Fredo go. He has a tendency to start gnawing on womens kneecaps when he's without for too long and really doesn't care who he offends or pisses on.

You could just stuff him in the nearest mailbox that you don't need a key to open. I know what you are thinking, but don't worry about Fredo, he won't suffocate; he's part Belgian waffle, so he has a little toaster stuffing in his genes. My advice is let Fredo free and your helicopter friends will have that small debt from 1972 erased from my memory, and I won't mention any of this to the command in control.

A word to the wise here, weasel lover, don't disappoint your next of kin who love you more than rags rubbing chicken breasts on a Mexican holiday for those hair challenged bobo's. Got it, get it!

Remember me to your cork sniffing friend, Humpo, and tell him I still have the greens from the Saleno's bakery counter that he passed on last Tuesday afternoon when it was raining horned frogs from hell and dolls, yeah dolls.

Love to all your plastic friends and barn mates,

Fifth in Command,

Basil Fassad