Storybulls: The Articles of Facts
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W
INCHIDENT REPORT On or around America'j birthday, a bird of unknown leather waj objerved chirping shongsh from the babel, at an undishclojed location in the valley of Washington D-She.
She sheemed to be not be doing much, excshept shomething along the linej of fly fishing. At the end of her fishing line was a giant magnet which had sheveral shtrange thingj hooked onto it: A whale, a wormhole, and a wackamole.
Witneshej report that she appeared shimultaneoushly patriotic and confujed, and misshing some partsh.
When ashked to identify hershelf she referred to hershelf as "Districtofcolumbianca". When ashked if she waj ok, she anshwered: "I threw out my shoulder".
When ashked what she waj doing, she shaid: "Very important work". When ashked for more detailj, she shaid "Do I need to mansplay this to you? I am a rooster, I am a hen, some folks need my help, especially the men! What did you think? That I am sum dum chick exhibiting her dumplings and putting out her mating call? Now buzz off!"
Authoritiej have been unable to determine whether theje reportsh deshcribe a lucky shighting of an enigmatic bird, the firsht cashe of the cuckooflu, or a lady of great libertiej.
Yellow Mr. Tea,
How are you? I painted you in this very bold style because you are a bold man. A lot of my friends asked me “why did you paint Donald Trump?” and I said “it’s because he is a very fearless man and I am a very fearful chicken and I would really like to absorb some of his oomph. I have always wanted to transition, from chicken to bull, because that is my human right, and this painting is my chance”. Duh.
I used a medium that is light and sheer. I expected to need many layers for your likeness to appear, but that was not the case. You were actually quick to leap off the canvas. I painted you "alla prima", which means that I got it all done in just one pass. I technically did not overwork you with too many fine details.
The truth bomb is, I wish I could take credit for using such a brave, minimalistic painting style, but I cannot. What really happened was, I was in the midst of painting you and then BOOM! I took a step back and suddenly you came charging at me with your mega presence, and I was tarrifyed so I ran out of my art studio and hid behind my cargo pants, so it had to end there. I do however find that you have some great lines and therefore I am humbly going to call you, this painting, a Triumph. Once in a while I like to toot my own trumpet cannon.
I painted you with lots of blue for o’range o'reasons, but the main one is that it’s by favorite flavor, so don’t feel sour about that because it’s my favorite taste. Orange you glad I painted you? Do share your peelings about it. But please be gentle with your feedback because I am berry sensitive.
Your fruitful one,
Bananaca
P.S. (I was JUST about to mail this letter but as I was walking through the plantation to get to the mailbox, I slipped on a banana peel and started hearing things through a grapevine. If this persists I might have to cut off my ear, and then the world would cry out: Oh My Gogh! and then I would only get rich after my death, although I’m hoping that under your administration you will finally exhume the posthumous wealth tax!!
P.P.S. Sorry about your hair, I know it’s over the top. And my apologies for also cutting off your ear, but I’m not the one who did that.
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Top o' the mornin'! Thought I'd give you another buzz! Don't mean to be a pest but I thought you should know that I've taken up pottery and weeding, so I've definitely had my hands full lately. And my ear! It's either that or I have some sort of bug in it, cuz it's been nonstop ever since I started
I know you know a lot of things about a lot of people, and I know that you have a lot of people working for you who tell you a lot of things about a lot of people- but you definitely don’t know this about me:
Which is that every morning, I sit down with my crumpet and my cup of Earl Grey, which includes Bergamot, floating inside your receptacle, and we chat. About a lot of things and a lot of people. And thanks to these chats, I now know a lot of things about a lot of people. Not only that- I’ve also caught your Oomphness!! Or maybe it’s dondon me that you’re really adorabull??
I sometimes find myself wanting to squeeeeze you! That's why I place you on my nightstand before I go to bed. You spill all the peas & carrots about what you were up to that day which lulls me to sleep so fast, it's incredible. Even dogs don't fall asleep that quickly.
The great thing is that we spend a lot of time together. Sometimes we go clubbing and I have to remind you to change your suit. Round and round the clock we go. The other night, I had a dream, and you were in it.
We were in two planes.
Passing each other in the sky.
My plane cried out to yours:
SAUCE! SAUCE!
I rolled down my window.
You rolled down yours.
And I said : “Excuse me sir, do you have any Earl Grey?"
You looked confused so I clarified: "I need it for my chicken pot pie".
And you answered: “I only have petro-chamomile.”
At which point I said: “But is that caffeinated?"
At which point you replied: "I think I can probably find you something storanger in the cargo bin, but I can only give it to you if you solve this riddle for me, as I've been scratching my head over it for a long time: Où est le chapeau?"
And I said, "Damn it, I don't know! But I'm certain that if I quench my snort the answer will come out of me like grey on white!!"
You handed me the beverage and said rather impatiently "hurry up and spit it out already!"
I looked at the drink
It was brown and fizzy
It smelled a bit sketchy
This drink appeared
To not be up my alley
But I had to keep my promise, so I raised my glass towards you and said “Drinkuntroo!”
Since I hate waste I poured the rest of your drink into my fuel tank.
And with that my plane skidded off, leaving behind a trail of...
Cheers,
Your Bee Eff Effervescent one.
P.P.S. Excuse me sir, but are you in the middle of something? I can’t stop drinking about you. Can we play a guessing game? Here are the clues:
(1)It’s can of ancient like the beeramids but not going as far back as the Tea-Repticles.
(2)It contains unsolved mysteries.
(3)It’s older than thyme but in mint condition.
(4)It reaches the sky when you kneel in de grass.
(5)You probably won’t be able to handle it.
ANSWER: A DRINKAMAJUG
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Beautiful
Bold &
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Good morning Berry,
I know that I probably shouldn’t call you that, but after drawing your picture, I have developed a level of comfort and familiarity which I really did not expect, so Berry is what feels natural & organic to me right now. Anyhow, I have attached my picture of you to this letter, and I probably didn’t have to tell you that it’s you because I really think that I really really really caught your likeness, which is not a disease, so please don’t think I was implying that. While capturing your likeness, I also managed to depict you in a way that’s really “out there”, which is incredible, really.
No, I did not draw this under the influence of anything (or anyone, not even you, even though I will always remember you as an excellent Poetician who would so feverishly express being madly in love with America, myself included, and don’t be coy about that - I saw the way you undressed the nation, myself included). The reason I don’t eat psychedelic things is because I see the world through a weird enough lens and it happens without trying, so this effect of your skin looking patchy is just my pure artistic talent. Again, this is not an illness, so please don’t worry about your health. I’m sorry, but I do not diagnose paintings. However, the Affordable Care Act does (actually, I prefer to call it P-P-A-C-A because it agrees with my stutter).
In this picture, you give off botanical, geological, biological and even planetary vibes. I dressed you in a sharp, black space-agey suit because you always have your eye on the future, like Leon Musk, and you probably have had contact with aliens, such as the Leonmusks, and kept that a secret from US, but I forgive you because it’s a humiliating thing to admit, even though I personally could handle your secret, and would love love love to get a hold of that type of information about you. I’d be happy to lend you an ear on that, but you’d have to promise not to nibble on it because it’s the only one I have left.
I placed you against a white wall, in contrast with your black suit, given that you do not strike me as a man who wants to fade into the background. After reviewing your Kikipedia Certificate, I almost decided to paint you as a panda bear but then I thought that might cause pandamonium. I also chose not to paint you like Barry White or Mr. Tee.
In this portrait your gaze is turned away from me, as I needed you to look away from me so you wouldn’t notice my fuchsia expressions while I was doing your makeover, which wasn't my first, and wasn't my last, and definitely covered everything.
I have to go now. It's time for me to roll out my yoga mat! I'll circle back with you later!
Love,
Your Greek yogi
P.S. I have to go now.
P.P.S. Sorry for cutting off your ear. It’s a bad hobbit of mine.
Beery!
It's been a minute! Things have been crazy this afternoon. Actually, it started before noon. It all started when I started scratching and sniffing your drawing. I’ve been going around in circles, in my yurt, ever since. Anyway, I had to bring an end to this vicious cycle. So I took up knitting and poetry. And let me tell you-
If I could knit all day long
I might survive insanity
Time to feed the cat!
I discovered that cats like string cheese.
My yurt has a very open concept. I’m thinking of placing my fountain of youth in the center of it. Not sure where I'll place my yoga mat, though. Gotta get started on that.
I gotta go. Cat tangled in yarn cheese and circling fountain!
So tired of his antiques! Not getting any younger!
Just can't put my finger on that scent! Cat is perplexed too!
Your busy Bee
I’m back! Yoga sesh was weeiiird.
For starters I couldn’t figure out where to lay out my mat. I gave up on using it, which worked out great because I only do chair pose anyways. Doctor chaise chair pose is good for the butty.
I like to use my fountain. Every night and ebudae. But there are times when I’m not in my fountain, and therefore it sits idle and isolated in the middle of my yogurt. Like a lonely island in the Caribbean blue. Does an oasis exist if no one drinks from it? It depends. You’ll have to ask Schrodinger’s cat or Kefir Sutherland.
Now if only I can figure out how to angle all the orange slices around my house. All I know is that I have 12 pieces to work with. I can’t wait to have you over for pizza so you can see my Feng Chewy. I’ll give you the grand tour twice so you can take it all in, and when that’s done, we can sit on my mat. We’ll drink lemon juice and vinegar. The cat will probably curl up with us at some point because the mat is now his designated nap spot.
He won’t drive you up the wall though. You’ll just have to hold on tight. You’ll feel a little lightheaded at first, there may be a couple of bumps and sharp turns, but before you know it-
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Beerie? Have you recovered yet? It was one helluva moonlight sonata!
You were babbling something about getting the coverage you need to protect yourself from Latin Fever and Irish Crop-Crop, and then you wrote yourself an apothroticary poem, which you tried to tattoo onto yourself with my Sharpie. You worried a lot about the carpet. You kept asking if it was all-natural, all-season and all-terrain and if the Leonmusks might have tampered with the programming. You also kept calling me PPIANCA. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me… And Jimmy!
Tada! Jimmy was with us the whole time! If he tries to deny it he’s lying through his teeth.
In conclusion, Beerie, DO YOU LIKE THE PRANKET I KNIT FOR YOU??? You didn’t for a minute suspect that I was pulling your suit over your eyes, did you!?!?!
Toodle loo!
Rose
PAINTBULL FIGHT
(AND THE FLOOR IS LAVA)
Jimmy I’m a big fan. A fan that blows big strong winds in your direction. Can you feel my breeze? I’m the kind of fan that sends winds strong enough to blow you away and also make you wonder “how do the birds and bees do it???”
Jimmy can I please have tickets to the Jimmy Fallon show. Send me as many as you can. And by that I mean, send me the exact number of tickets that’s right before the number that makes you roll your eyeballs at me for asking for too many tickets.
In exchange for that, I offer you a pair of painted portrait peejay pants. Painted portrait peejay pants that capture a lot more of you than any other thingamabobblehead ever could (because I know that behind your jester lurks an evil genius).
Conjuring you was no laughing matter. I tried hard to spell out your essence, but the problem is that you kept whining “I’m flat as a pancake” and “this suit makes my hair look like fudge” so then I got fed up and said “no suit for you!”, at which point you started seeing red, so you slipped into something more “pump-up-the-lingonberry-preserves”.
Jimmy, I worked my pants off t̶o̶ b̶e̶a̶r̶ f̶r̶u̶i̶t̶ i̶n̶ y̶o̶u̶r̶ p̶a̶n̶t̶s̶ to bring your pants to fruition. You are very mutable. There are sooo many of you that I’ve lost count. You really are some kind of homogenius.
Jimmy why are you being speechless?
Anyhow, Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy, if you send me those tickets after midnight, man, you will be considered late, and therefore I will turn you into a pumpkin that was carved out by my inner four-year-old named Carrie O'Dontal, and your shoes will smell like Roquefart cheese.
Yours however-you-like-to-toast-me,
Brieanca
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B.S. Thank you for the crickets, but I sort of won’t be able to attend your show. What happened is that I was loafing in the Jacks, minding my own Sharpie, doing my usual diddly twiddly dooddly squats, just bumdinging away in my knickers, when suddenly I felt creepy supervisor vibes coming from behind me. It was you, Jiminy, and you were giving me the stink-eye. I rolled my eyeballs and said “First of all, stop stalling at me. This isn’t some kind of peepee show. Second of all, fork crying out loud, I'm trying to meditate, what’s the matter now, are you mocking me in that outfit?”. Apparently you found that very rude because from then on everything was a blur.
“The details are in the disheveled devil’s double! Your rectangles are banjanxed!” You exclaimed. You leapt off the canvas and came charging at me with the fury of a bat out of hell on wheel of fortune, and then you rammed right into my mosaic tile wall, leaving you with a splitting, splattering headache.
I kept telling myself "Thes es jest a bat drim", but then you pinched me and said “stop rolling your R’s, and roll down the bloody window!” and then I said “don't tell me where to put my tongue in my mouth, and keep yer' hands off me vowels, ye flockin' eejit!" and then you said "You're the one who pinned me to the wall, and I wouldn't torch you with a ten foot footlong!!" and then I said "ohhh, Jimmeh. Once again ye put yer' foot in yer' mouth! If I wer' in yer' shoes"-
And with that I tapped my shoes together and whispered 'there's no place like Portolé" but nothing happened, so I decided to stomp out of the room instead. It was incredible Jimmy because I barely took one step forward when it occurred to me that I must be trippin' bulls because-
I mangered the ultimate escape. I squeezed myself freshly inside the holy potty fountain, in a very MacDyver-esque fashion, splashing about with the grace of a Europeean model named Mary of the Waterloo.
I’m warning you Jimmy: If you come any closer I will spit cran-apple juice at you. But since you’re into that sort of thing, you did end up approaching me, and I did try to use my schpritzer-tank on you but it malfunctioned. You came even closer, opened your mouth so wide that your fangulas where sticking out and it appeared that you were going to chomp my head off so I screamed really hard and then you shouted "don't be so dragnonic!"
But it was too late. Apparently my ha!litosis was no laughing matter because it started a fire. You tried to use your lederhosen to extinguish it, but it malfunctioned. Luckily, a typhoon arrived; sirens followed by water jetting at us so hard, we were pretty much pinned to the wall.
I tried to explain that we had been framed, but noooo of course youuuu had to blame meeee for all of it and then you said “Ewwww! Say it don’t spray it! You can’t have sixty-four tickets!”.
Jimmy yoo wong about that! That’s not fail! I can’t contlor if the watel fars on you. It wasn’t my fart! I want to go to the Lockeferrel Praza nowwwwww!
Your Chinookums,
Catrina-Lorraine
PeePeeSss. How art thy pants holding up, Sir Jimmy? I’ve heard that the half-shirt-and-tie-half-peejay-bottoms-outfit is the look of the centaury. Just ask Kevin O’Weewee. Let me know if you want some suspenders, dot dot dot.
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Catabulted
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INTO BLACKOUT
(Finding Doré = Catching a Code.)
Under the moonlight
To thee I kneel and pray:
O Saccharine Father!
After much ado about nothing,
I must confess:
I still cannot name all 50 shades of grey,
for cirvics is not my forte
And even though today is another day
to chillé
I promise that by our next rendez
I’ll bang it all out and away
And you shall get the lay
of the land.
Y’all, I canna bean working on my speaking skills. Hate to be annoying to others. Started speech training with a game called “you can’t say Umberrrrto”. Sprawl out the map of Italy on my kitchen table and see where my gaze lands. Take swigs of the Chardonnay from that region and gargle it for 2 minutes whilst letting the bullfish barrel out of me. Talk about uncorking your screw. This game is a mouthful. Not sure how much more of it my noodle can wrap itself around, but if you find me stuck to the wall, you’ll know that I’m cooked and please toss me into the minestrone.
We should all get together and play that game again, you know, “you can’t not say MAHAMAGAP'PACA” how this led to a disaster omg omg omg because it's so fun building igloos with marshmallows gelloi ijv slkgj slkgjsdlgksjlgksjd sdkgj spdogjsdpgjs;lgIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII cornhole IIIIIIIIIIIIII noirjq coirqrojw pok ok "What a terrible idea!" IIoijwfvoiqe chomp chomp chomp jfoej too late kjlkjdfolkej too late efh sonowkhf okefj lkflfklfkjlfs l;dkfjsldfkj absolutely obamatable fjsfj spfjslfe sel j IIIIIII your pants. You do recall that I specifically told you guys: "Don’t knock it till you chew it. Swallowing is optional". But of course, no one listened to me.
Jimi, I have harped on quite a bitty and tried hard to pluck your g-strings butt jolly ghee, you snapped! Now, I am forlorn! Where are my chiclets? If you don’t give them to me, I am going to tell Berry that you called him a knucklehead and then he’s going to give you a noogie or a tattoo that says “huh, why?”, depending on what state he’s in.
Barney, I mean Donald, sorry I get my animal quackers confused – you should know that I’m not the one who flew over it. I’m terrible at winging things and therefore I’m not sure how clearly my messages have been transmuting, but suffice it to say that I think I might have confused our teet times. You flung msomtething strange e across the fairway, straight towards the flagpole, and eagle-eyed me housing hello how are yhou my sister plopped right into the holenothing to read over here there is sopping wet tea bag here there is nothing to read over here there is extracted to squeezing the essence out of me over hereblabla bla "What are these " there is nothing to read over here there is nothing "Oh crap"!
The bottoms up is this: Things can get hextic. Dancing to cacophony helps, but trying to get all your organsms in a row is harder than brain surgery, especially when you’re all thumbs like me, thanks to rotator cuff syndrome. Sometimes one act leads to another and it gets explosive pretty quickly, so be grateful for magic erasers. Still noodling on paint colors for the wall in my yurt. Any ideas?
Bloody cat has been clawing my wardrobe. Gotta pounce. Time to throw bait in the oven.
Toro!
Chewbianca
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