Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]

[Lipinski]

Hey parasite, wanna tell me what you think about magic?

"What? You're talking to me? If so, why don't you pony up some chips and dip, or smoked turkey leg. Magic is bullshit. It does not exist."

Yes. Yes it does exist. Which is inspirational and so i will write about it just to fuck with those who think they know what magic really is.

"Whatever. Where's the chocolate chip cookies?"

I ate them.

"Bastard."
*

Ah yes, a potion. A concoction of words whispers, chants song, arms raised and in the mixture there is a tincture of
worldly things.

Old is the adage of a pot boiling while the witches cackle
only
this is only fantasy for those who shun the light.

Does a curse really work, or a spell, a hex?
Yes, to the person who holds such to a level of belief, a need, a right...

Witches on brooms?
Wizards and their beards?
Dragons love of gold?

Now as to elves and fairies...
Goblins and ghouls...
Halloween...

Nope, they don't exist and neither does magic...

(Poof!)

Hey parasite. Did you see that?

"What? That you're still an asshole?"

No. Did you see a Dragon eating potato chips?

"You are a fucking retard."

(Zap!)
*

To dwell in a realm where one is not born with or into
is to starve with ignorance; unfulfilled and blind.

All around, and in between
If only you could discover it
it is real.

It is not words or illusions
Potions or chants
Anger is not present nor pride
as the fingers make the sun grow dim or bright
purely for the fun of it.

[Lipinski]

A World of Water

When the moons of many tug at the heart of planets, waves are born

On a planet where water flows, three in alignment

The beings spread their wings, purple plumage bristly at the crest

Diving down and then soaring high, higher, and higher...

until

in a world of water, it is the nature to defy gravity

[Lipinski]

Inner Voices

Written by: A voice

Concrete Jungle. Two words used to describe many stories of a setting filled with decay and modern life. Detroit, Chicago, New York. Cities filled with millions of people.

Traffic flow of such hustle and bustle. Honking horns and profanity spilling at any indignation.

In the subway, the smell of piss and a soulless feeling of those lost in the mundane.

Lights flickered. There, in the distance, a scream. How natural the scream as it sounded like the birth of humanity. High in pitch and then cut short by whatever occurs in dark corners.

High above, in a conference room filled with extremely well paid executives wearing the sterile suits of conformity, talked of weekends on a sailboat or how the CEO was getting laid by the well endowed CFO.

Even higher, the sky above the jungle spotlighted a jet filled with ethnicity crossed the view for almost a minute.

"Hey! Watch where you're going, asshole..." A black man yelled while dressed for a drag queen festival.

In the background, sirens. Competing nearby, a dog barked. Out of place in the concrete jungle. The bark of a dog standing somewhere out of sight.

So many voices. So much to see, smell, hear, and feel. And yet when the alarm went off for Bob, he stumbled to find the button to silence the clock. That damned clock. Ticking with a silent rhythm designed to dictate those a slave to it.

Waking, the man saw the mountains and trees. he saw the sun rising over the hill. He was alone and had been so ever since the day the world died. He was the only one left alive to hear the voices now so real, in his head.

From the shadows, there came the voice of laughter.

[Lipinski]

Gypsies and violins...
Throw in a gypsy woman playing a violin?
Wow!
Some fucking fantastic inspiration while outside the air is cool, crisp, clean, with a breeze free from all human intervention.
*

She carried the dark hair of a woman who knows just who and what she is
Legs able to easily glide while the bow slides across such wonderful music

Her violin a part of her as much as the arms carrying the tone

From a family as old as the modern world; old the days where we laughed
a fire burning with ash carrying the intents to the other side

Wiles and smiles; seduction so natural her style
Beguiling the eyes while capturing the ears
so much power to dance away the night
in her arms her strength
some fucking fantastic sight and music.

[Lipinski]

I love profanity. Though disagree with the accepted meaning of profanity.

For writers, profanity is a definite taboo. Unless you are a famous writer you won't get far in the publishing world. For the official publishing world you have to be politically correct, religiously neutral, and write what I consider to be, mush.

It is fucking fantastic to write and speak as a free man. Or, a woman if there are any left.

There is a saying, "I don't trust a man who does not drink." Actually, not terrible advice though wrong on many levels. However, I don't trust anyone that does not use 'profanity'. People who say, shit and fuck, and write using such, are honest in their communications.

Swimming the other day I noticed two face painted pumpkins had been placed together so as to mimic kissing. Inspiring. And so to go with the flow of the profane, the taboo, the restricted, and Halloween, a bit of writing about pumpkins.
*

Birds and bees indeed
involved in the Spring as the vines flowered there among the large leaves.
Pollen flowing, carried along by the breeze.

Plump little orbs all around, shining color of green
and growing
growing fast.

Summer heat shined down and with a thirst sated by roots, the pumpkins grew
and grew;
growing until the cool nights of Fall said, "Whoaa..."
and so,
orange in triumph they showed the season.

Children love boogers, they love puppies, they love the world they will soon learn to hate
yet
for some
for those whose families allow happiness and joy to mingle with imagination
they allow their children to desecrate a pumpkin by carving or drawing upon the surface
'something'.

Yesterday,
two pumpkins kissing
which lead to fucking
and I swear I saw them swapping seeds.

[Lipinski]

Seinfeld, the show about nothing
yet it is
something.

Funny for one, entertaining for another, inspirational and in today's world that's something.
*

Television

Used to be rabbit ears and tinfoil,
or for the best reception stand and hold the antenna with you bare hands.

Test patterns to daze while the screen was black and white
and such personalities as Walter Cronkite would look at you and say,
"Good night."

Back in the day there was ABC, NBC, and CBS.
Today?
Spanish cooking channels to pygmy porn
while athletes are filmed playing darts to swimming with polar bears...
So many shows, so many channels.

Firestick, Amazon, Youtube, and so, so, so much more.

Do children still build, watch, and play with puppets?
or ride a bike off a cliff to prove who is the toughest kid?
Wait... What did you say? Lawrence Welk reruns are about to start?
Count me out, I'd rather chase butterflies
or watch something fun and about nothing...
Seinfeld!

[Lipinski]

Marabou Choklad

If you like chocolate, especially of the milk type, you gotta check out Marabou. If you're a reader, then God bless ya, you'll surely go to Heaven if you can wade through the shit i write. If you're a writer, then congrats for writing. It's all good and so tonight the inspiration is to write a Marabou Choklad having an add in one of the many culinary magazines. And to narrow it down even more, Choklad and me writing an add for such, is surely bound to become some crazy shit.
*

Marabous, take one. Action!

(a small puppet figure looking like a hulking barbarian stated) "Hello boys and girls and whatever floats your boat. I'm here to tell you that Hershey chocolate is made from refined cat shit. Such shit the world has never seen, and I must say, the cat shit used in Hershey chocolate is not even of good quality as they squeeze baby kittens.

Buy only the best, Marabous Mjolk Cholad, and leave the cat shit to Hershey".
***

"Hey numbnets?"

Yes?

"Are you?"

Oh fucking yeaaa....

[Lipinski]

In a wall, a layer to shield another layer, while outside...so many layers.
(Peep)
(Peek)
(chirp chirp)

As you sit there, peering into a Universe (how grande!)
Pondering the obvious...
most are blind to see

To fly between and land upon any and all layers
where gods themselves store secrets
i sit eating the goodness of Life
and smile,
~
smiling throughout the darkness of a world finding itself dedicated to hiding from the obvious.
Today,
today is a good day to live.

[Lipinski]

Today is a good day. It is an important day for personal reasons. It is...good.

So many scenes flitter in depths embedded far behind the eyes and mind. People walking wearing dresses and top hats, carriages pulled by now long dead horses...only, they are are not dead, they are now alive.

Today and yesterday.
Today and tomorrow.

Space craft able to sexually reproduce, and such the swarms of advancement in the biological science of so many worlds.

Artificial intelligence becoming a footnote in the reality of absurd.

In front of the eyes, a matrix of so many powerful vibrations. If there is any need for proof of inspiration, than humanity truly is blind.
***
Crossroads

The path of vocal extensions growing fast from the moment of the crib
An old man gasping his last breath at the age of, 102.

Pain, a center line in a path everyone can understand as they careen down at what they deem to be, forward. Getting to a goal. A finish line. A completion of something some call, life. Others view it as fate or destiny. Maybe just a lot more written 'words' of the vocal extensions?

Suicide.
Jubilation.
Orgasm.
Joy.
Sorrow.

(put them all in a box, shake well, and pick one)

Conditioning. Choice. Capability. Clarity. The four 'C's of a diamond in the rough? Or more so, the ability of humanity?

God is a sly entity. The most humor filled Being ever.

While many talk for or against. Giving God such grand titles as Creator or the spaghetti monster... it becomes more simple to understand those who say, "Fuck God!" or "God is great!"

It is...easy. So very easy to understand the relationships of humans with a being so vast and real, such emotions as joy and anger are removed from the debate. One thing, and one thing only stands out, that being, Love and Humor. The two are entwined. Evil never laughs. Never. Any laughter from such as those who persecuted the Jews in World War II, was not the laughter of humor, it was another extension of vocal communication of human ignorance embracing horror.

Lately, God has played some wonderful jokes with me and i with God. And you have not truly lived until you have seen God laugh...
****
Chess

The first move took place an eternity ago; pawn advancing by Design
Time was not a clock or event as the very numbers danced.

A King
A Queen

Such the bitterness of war and romance

Pieces started to blur in and out of black and white
Such a wonderful dance!

Okay God, you know you have won, but
but
but
but
but
but
but
but
...
at least you gave me the chance
and i am by no means ever going to surrender my advance
nor
concede even as you topple my pieces
and in the end
we'll both have a great laugh.

[Lipinski]

thinking of small breasts on a female human. and why not? most think of large breasts as if the bigger are best.

there is inspiration in the mammary glands of female humans, and so, with a flicker as a witness; inspiration.
*

Boobs

Such the fascination as one lingers upon the thought of nipples
but to get to peak of sensation than you have to add in fingers, tongue, lips, elbows, thighs, buttocks, hair....

Sticking with the topic in hand
to feel such sensations
they have to be
real.

[Lipinski]

A nymph was born today many year)s( ago. A very long time as for the time of mortals.
Beautiful.
Free.
Aloof from tedious actions of both day and night
Pedigree of visions released to breath the air.

Pan saw this creature and smiled.
In his heart he felt it all
and it was good
falling in love was its nature
music its soul
and dance...

She fled what she feared
Turning into a marsh as wide as a world; deep as any ocean
Panic set in and scared.

Pan gathered the reads of her life
Set together in a row of order
he blew the sweet tunes to remember what he can never hold in his arms
and danced the time away.

[Lipinski]

A man sat upon a discarded forest, one given the reality of never growing another ring, never again striving for the sky with growth. It was a fitting scene where he sat and gazed at a sun minding its own business.

This piece of wood of which he rested his burdens, was bleached white with the irony of an indifferent sun. Bleached, white, and more solid in the prone position than any strength his living cambium ever had offered standing so cocky and proud.

In his youth the man climbed this very tree now burrowing into the soil. He climbed it until there was nothing left to climb. As if gaining such height would give him something. Something if even only a glimpse into what it is to be alive.

Seasons courted with the sun and with the same indifference, the sun allowed the four seasons to continue. With this, the tree and man continued to exist.

Shade, fruit, fuel for the fire in the hearth where the man gained continuing comfort. The tree did not complain nor groan while the man laughed and cried. His life was one of a whirlwind of existence. He did not enjoy the comforts of being rooted in a ground of needs; wanting instead the soils of foreign lands under his soles.

The tree shook its canopy in understanding. This is what happens to ambition. Strive. Drive. Goals. Growth. Experience. Both the tree and the man continued through the calmness of warm days and comfort, and the storms...Always the storms, until finally, the wind driven by the sound of thunder left a shattered tree scattered to bleach under the unforgiving sun.

The man was not spared as his body rejected him. Cancers growing faster than his life span. His days of climbing trees or reading of adventure while reclined under what was once a very beautiful shade trees branch, now a part of what he was.

Sitting there the man smiled, his eyes glowing with memories. In his pocket was a box. Nothing special as it was tarnished; inside though, inside this box a memory locked away caused the smile.

With the sunlight now gone, so too the smile on the man's face. Nothing could be seen of either the man or the wood he sat upon.

Morning arrived as mornings always arrive. Dew laden hope in a world getting ready for another day of growth and experience. Everything continued with what they had done the previous days except the old man was gone. Gone too, the dead bleached piece of tree. In the spot where we all share a memory, there was now a new sprout of a tree emerging from the ground while nearby, almost within reach... a stone, a very special stone waiting for a boy to whistle as he walked on his path through the forest, and then spying the stone, bending down to pick it up and put it into his pocket.

[Lipinski]

i can't explain it...
it is everywhere, this gurgling fountain of inspiration.
The Sun.
The Wind.
Women playing electric violins.
Smoked salmon.
Ravioli.
Corgi dogs.

i think of women and then instantly think of the folly of man. An age old drama where two genders so vibrantly different seeking the solace of the other. a huge comedy waiting to ripen and pop like a pimple.

I wonder... do alien species dabble in such mundane topics? Food? Sex? Love? Hate? The answer of course is, of course...
*

Her cycle of reproductive mood swings hinged upon the fruiting of the songrass plant. A plant only flowering every 1000 solar years.

It had been 999 solar years since her last, yearning... The last time caused a war so large that the very existence of the 'people' was called into question as to if it could survive. Yet, somehow, it did.

So many suitors lining up in preparation. Large males of such stature and physical prowess. There were generals and officers of such high rank vying for attention. There were wealthy members with such treasure it could never be fully counted. Many and all; prime of being and bearing getting ready for what she had coming.

In a far off village, so far away it was not even named by those who mattered. A male sat whittling a piece of songrass into a piece of netting to be used to capture one of the many fish plying the river of which his village was placed next too.

He thought of many things, but he never thought of her. He did not even know she existed. What he knew was the songrass plant was to bloom next solar cycle and that there were fish to catch so that mouths could be fed.

Such the drama of a species thousands of light years from anywhere, and yet, that night the young male was visited by a very powerful dream. In the morning, he viewed the songrass plant in a very different light.

[Lipinski]

In the night sky, the stars over your head care nothing for your gaze or for what you are. In the night sky, there are beings which care nothing for your gaze or for what you are, though a few members of the (not allowed)have an interest in members of planets. Not for goodwill or bad, rather, to use populations as a game.

On a planet fourth from a sun in a quadrant of space/time known as (not allowed) a game was in a full cycle of frenzy. By this, the frenzy is 'results'. Three members of the 'organization...

"Hey numbnuts, what's with the 'not allowed' bullshit? You're a con, a nut job, and, and, oh shit..."

The parasite will be busy for a few days. It will be interesting to see how it likes what it is now enduring. Anyway, the parasite does have a point about writers using such snippets as, 'not allowed', but if it is not allowed then what does a writer write?

Back when Vikings were so much more advanced than the societies of today, there were warriors known as, Berserkrs, or berserkers, or however a person wants to write what was the best warriors ever on a planet filled with warriors.

For most, such a warrior is ancient history. Stripped clean and replaced with the warrior of today. Some warriors are very adept at killing but not with the sincerity of berserkrs. It is easy to kill and maim. Hitler knew this, Stalin, Mao, so many experts. Even Patton, but Patton was a bit special as he once 'was' a beserkr in a different world.

In warfare there are now laws. Rules to follow. Weapons outlawed. Chemicals banned. A giant comedy of errors for there is nothing forbidden when a Beserkr goes to war. NOTHING. Victory shall be obtained even if everything is detroyed.

It will be interesting to see what happens when they arrive. It is good to see a battle where one attains the absolute feeling of being alive to the point death itself has no power over mortal flesh.

[Lipinski]

Cat Steven's music is inspiring.

Outside, the rain cannot hide the sun.
*

Hello
It's me...

A touch of English, a smidgen of Sweden
It's hard
but its harder than to ignore it.

I know
I have to go.

(thanks Cat Steven)

[Lipinski]

String Theory

As chidlren...remember?
Two cans connected with string?
Communication between numbers.

One is only whole, as such, the center of the can
Stretching determines by order and not length
With tension, the string can learn to soften

Two are connected
with growth exponential where when disconnected
vibrations continue across space and time while the string rots to nothing
and the cans turn to rust.

[Lipinski]

Thanks B-man and Kirstin, a wonderful way to spend four hours.
*
friends are like the breeze, full force one day and gone tomorrow
i like my friends as rocks
strong
sturdy
steadfast
and homemade pizza wins everytime.
so for you two, some inspiration
***

Cat is a good play, it will roar as it always roars.
Next year, Cat will play

Exxon?
Indeed.

Pioneer?
Yes.

BP?
Of course

Anyone I buy?
Run away.

[Lipinski]

Cheez Whiz, peanut butter, chicken wings...
(sigh)
Pizza, chips, anchovies, soup...
(gulp)
So much to enjoy!

p.s.
Microwaves rock.

[Lipinski]

All righty then... Inspiration for today? Well, a much needed day off. Swimming in the hot springs. Winning a large batch of scientific equipment from the Moscow University for only .99 Watching a woman sexually pleasure her male partner in the pool. Always too much inspiration overload.

Sex is okay in a pool but watching the couple try to hide it while maintaining a facade of seriousness... They'd have been better to scream out in orgasms than to try and hide from me. As such, boring and predictable, so the auction inspiration wins while currently millions of dead sperm are floating in a hot pool and the memory of when she made eye contact with me afterwards, I thought of chocolate and dinner, and then so many other reasons to write of something better than her embarrassed look and sigh.
*
Government Auctions

Need a car? Bid high.
It's a little rough with high mileage but the government employee's are fat marshmallows and enjoy driving slow
to a doughnut shop, so bid the max.

Need a confiscated diamond ring? Bid high.
It's not the diamond, it's the 24kt gold!

How about a truckload of pots and pans? Bid high.
These are of superior quality and were used in the mental hospital
So the added bonus is the dried blood stains on the sides.

Scientific equipment? Why?
Soil compaction?
Gauges?
Tubes?
This is shit no one buys!
(except me and when I'm done with those cylinders in planned experiments, I would not want to be a plane flying by)

[Lipinski]

Nausea. An interesting word. Everyone has experienced its meaning. A perfect definition of how a politician makes me feel. And inspirational.
*
Seasickness matches the rolling emotions of waves

Old oil from a restaurant fryer poured over some mac and cheese

Changing a ripe diaper on a toddler addicted to banana's and peas

~
Odors extraordinary and foul

Politicians saying, "Trust me!"

Vomit

Blood

News from the news media

...

Amazing more people are not nauseated, or at the very least ,
suffering a headache.

[Lipinski]

Turtles

Turtles everywhere in the dreams
Large and small and in between

One old and ever more growing colder and cold, stuck on four points of Earth

Right rear leg hinged upon a rock

Left rear leg outside the island, gripping to warm soil

Left front leg grasping at air

Right front leg a blur of motion

[Lipinski]

Mice are insignificant for so many. Yes, mice are food for many, but among those with recognized intelligence, they are mostly insignificant.

There is one mouse though, a very special mouse and one embracing being insignificant. It prefers staying outside the lines of identity. This is what set the mouse apart from the billions of other mice... This mouse spoke and sometimes you can hear things of utmost importance, and sometimes it seems insignificant.

"Mickey Mouse! You're talking about Mickey Mouse. I knew you were a putz."

No parasite, not Micky Mouse. Micky Mouse is a figment of many minds of imagination. I'm writing about an insignificant mouse which has a wonderful talent of singing.

"You really, really, reeeeeeeally... need some professional help."

No, I need ice cream.
*

Tubes inside tubes, each the panorama of a skyscape filled with the movement of clouds.

Each world as long as the endless path of a circle.
~
Direction maybe? Maybe though, intense focus seems there is logic and science behind the scene

Windsseem random... That is, until you find the origin.
~
From below, the Oceans laugh when pushed or pulled
Though, mice eat cheese and so above every world,
there exists
a moon.

[Lipinski]

aerobic or anaerobic?
yeast is an interesting little bugger
eating and shitting
shitting and eating
and in the end?
Voila!
Fresh bread!

[Lipinski]

"Hey big boy... Got a light?" She was not bad looking for a hooker.

"Uh, yes!"

and the rest is history

[Lipinski]

ah... yes... prophecy.

a young man 'predicting' covid.
a woman 'predicting' royal births
a bit of writing where California will have a major earthquake in only a few weeks, 25 Nov.

Predictions.
Prophecy.
Magic.
Old ways.
New beliefs.

Such wonderful inspiration!
*
Drak' ion, Lizards, Dragons. Mmmm. Meow?
To predict what has already occurred is not prophecy. They are memories.

A Dragon under guise of being a squirrel or an eagle or even a postage stamp...

Two Dragons. 'Brothers'. One to aid, one to destroy. Both of one thought.

So many know numbers. 1 is not important unless spelled, one.
2 is comforting
3, Ha! So much there are no words
4
5
6
8
9
10
Numbers alone are just numbers, numbers put together such as 666 seems important or maybe a grand joke as 666 viewed through a lens is nothing more than 999.

You want to know 'his' name. Why? You already know many names, know many faces,...Do you know your real name? The name reserved and etched upon what is there waiting.

There is not one path to follow. If this is true than there must be many paths?
Paths are for those who cling to the reality of soil and sky
A Dragon needs no path, no wings, no feet,.. .. .. they exist for what fancies them and for what they must obey. And what they obey is nothing more than what their consciousness tells them, along with loyalty, love, and design of the Comet, the very being of Life; God..

Two brothers, Cain and Abel, following a plan necessary to explain two Dragaon, two of which have completed a very important job. and of this, a prophecy for worlds never knowing the others existed. To this, the torches carried in the meadow that Summer evening where the Sun joined the Moon together in the middle of the darkest night, just to watch the lightning dance to the tune of thunder... at least, that's what a yellow jacket buzzed to much it caused some to laugh.

[Lipinski]

Video of pandemic health workers killing a corgi over China's zero tolerance policy leads to public outrage Wow... Inspirational for a bit of writing? Absolutely. However it will be much better to write about the communist regime once the whole country glows with a nice warm radioactive glow.

So, rest in peace dear Corgi, you will definitely get the last laugh.

Now, as for inspiration, there is a news release about a man sitting on a toilet in South Africa and got bit on his balls. Now that has to be inspiring for anyone wanting to write.
*

Manhood

Look mommy, I can write my name on the snow while I pee!

A first pubic hair is much nicer than catching a first disease.

Learning just what all the male equipment is about after reading an edition of, National Geographic, showing African titties.

Getting a dodge ball hit to the sack and falling instantly to the knees.

Chills and thrills and throw in a few wet dreams

"Kick him the nuts," the enemies watching a school yard fight often say

Some women enjoy balls and dick, others just stick to vagina; such the choices today.

Now, getting older and to travel the world! Africa. Thailand. India. So many places to catch a real good sexual disease!

South America where a fish will swim up the urethra to play

In South Africa, just minding his business trying to take a shit, his balls get bit by a poisonous snake...

***

"Maybe he should have gotten someone to suck out the poison?"

You volunteering parasite?

"No. But he could have put peanut butter on his balls and had a dog..."

Enough parasite. I enjoy peanut butter. Too bad you don't have balls as then maybe you'd have some common sense.

"Ha! Do you really understand human males?"

Nope. And I don't want to.

[Lipinski]

experimenting with yeast. it is interesting and fun and might it be added, delicious?

baking is an art I admire. Cookies in particular and cake. But fresh bread and butter? Yikes!

very respectful of those with the ability to enslave yeast and make it rise to their will.
***

Bread

So thin the crust it carries the toppings as if they were the bulk of royalty.
Mushrooms, cheese of one, two, three, or even more with just a slight dab of tomato paste
Baked until it can almost be snapped in half and yet retain a pliable dignity.

Doughnut dough turning into deep fried crispness of delight.

Sticks that snap and soak up vinegar

Loaves so fresh from the oven, their language yells, "Eat me1"

Croutons and pita
Cookies and cake
and what makes it all possible?

To savor and appreciate the talent of those able to bake.

"You actually wrote something I like. That is some sick shit to say. But now after saying it, how about baking me some chocolate chip cookies moron?"

For you? Never. For me, absolutely, though it will be my first time and the results will either succeed in making a new form of rocket fuel, charcoal briquettes, or something so good I'll just devour them all.

"yeah, you do that dough boy. and when you keel over in a heart attack I'll bake you and eat you."

Sure. Go for it. But you'll get high cholesterol and sudden cravings to nuke China.

[Lipinski]

'Dedicated to..." Memories of books and endeavors stated to honor others and those.

"I'm doing this for my dad who died of cancer," statement by a cooking show contestant.

"This is for my wife," reality show where once again, a contestant

Writers write such: In memory of Aunt Jane

In a way, we all think and give honor to somebody

and so...

The following is dedicated to those many men of the world currently suffering from an itchy left testicle.
***

Ha~
Self defense
Not guilty
Perfectly legal
and the brains to go along on par with a dead goose.

[Lipinski]

Words. A writers friend though for communication there are also other means such as pictures, sounds, vibrations, emotions, odors; long the list of communicating to now include cute little things called, emojis.

Reading stories and literature going back a very long time, it is easy to have the story told in your own voice in your mind.

Editors have an important job as they make what the writer is putting to print such as it is, into something others can understand.

Some writers write as if in the first person, or they use voices of others, but...

"You call yourself a writer?"

Sure parasite, why not? Being addicted to writing is better than being a parasite.

"That's what you think, being a parasite definitely has advantages."

Such as?

Well, first off, I'm much smarter than you and I writer better.

Okay, I'll let you write the next bit of lunacy and see it that statement is true.
***
In Our Own Words

Written by: The Writers Parasite

At the pool today, Walter was swimming with floaties. Now Walter is a nice name as it contains the letter, W. W is a great letter and worthy to be used in Walters name.

The age of five will mark Walters age next month. And for all of those five years, Walter is one smart child.

"So Walter, you were once a baby?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember being a baby?"

In a serious voice, Walter said, "No, that was too long ago."
~

Walter has a younger sister who splashed in the pool with floatie. She was very vocal in expressing her desires. Such fun to watch.

~

"So Walter, what is your favorite breakfast meal?"

Instant in reply, "Egg and bacon."
~

"Do you like spaghetti."

In a serious voice, "Yes, " was the reply.

"Do you dangle the noodles like this?" A vivid demonstration put to test.

"Oh no, you have to slurp the noodle."

"Does your dad slurp spaghetti noodles?"

"Yep."

"Does your mother?"

"No, she uses a fork."
~
*
(
(
(
(
Not bad parasite, but you weren't there.

"And neither were you."

[Lipinski]

Waterloo
Loo
Look
Loon
.....................................took some time too, to be or not to be......................
and what is the result?

Poon tang.