Writers Parasite [Contains Adult Language & Situations]

[Lipinski]

"It's official folks. Numbnuts is actually past the line of tipsy." A fuggetabout stated with a stern style.

"What? That numbnuts is not only past tipsy but way higher than that?"

In the spirit of quality, nay far beyond the sprite of reason...

"Huh?" Parasite was truly buzzled by this."

Whee! Whee! Whee!

(thud)

[Lipinski]

"You got a day off?"

Yep. A whole day where there is nothing but the enjoyment of not having to work.

"Wanna scratch my purple protuberance?"

(looking closely at the protuberance a decision was quickly reached)

No. Absolutely not. What is that? Is it new?

(the purple blob known as the parasite beamed with a smile and shook the large purple thing around in the air. it wiggled and reminded a viewer of jello)

"Yeah. Like it? Perfect for swatting rain drops."

Well, a day off. What fun. Music. Cool air. Cold ice water. No dirty clothes. Nice.

And a day off is inspiring for writing something. Today, a war horse named Tin'ioc
*
*
*
War

Battle fields of reality where the board is not the pristine black and white squares of chess. Where the players are not Kings or Queens. There are no Bishops or Knights. There exists only the battle of pawn against pawn.

Tin'ioc is a black stallion of a breed having no name.

No one could remember where the lineage of such a noble animal had started. Tin'ioc and his brothers and sisters alive and long dead had always been of a great aid to those engaged in the practice of slaughter and battle. From foal and mare to stallion, the breed was special in that all wore the clothing of darkness. The only white was the part of eyes holding true the color of coal.

Tin'ioc was neither young nor was he old. To date he has borne three warriors in countless battles. The riders all rode into battle after battles, and in battle they died.

While spared to run and carry a rider another day, the mighty beast had not been spared wound and injury. Tin'ioc suffered the physical wounds of spear and sword. His flesh burned by the splatter of hurled flaming balls of pitch.
His scars were visible and invisible.

His mind suffered the wounds of seeing his riders dismounted and destroyed. He saw his fellow brethren slaughtered and left to feed countless maggots. Yet, on this cool morning day he enjoyed the tingle of the coming winter. A time when battles were mostly put away for another season and it was a time of reflection and preparation for the next war.

Unaware, behind the stallion, a small boy ready to grow and yet far from being a man/warrior, the boy reached up and tugged on the tail of the mighty war horse.

Instead of kicking the boy into another kingdom, Tin'ioc felt a strange sensation deep inside his soul. Turning his head while shaking his mane, he saw what had touched him.

Smiling and looking up the boy reached his hand out to touch the flat spot above the horses nostrils. For the horse it was a powerful feeling. As if lightning itself had landed and imparted a great energy.

Snorting and pulling his head back the horse shook his head a couple of times and then once more focused on the young man.

"You are a mighty wonderful horse," the boy said with a smile.

Stomping his right foot in an unexplained action the horse lowered his head once more to the boy and the boy laughed and this time rubbed the scarred neck and scratched an area of the head that strangely enough, needed to be scratched.

"Would you like some water?" The boy asked the horse.

The horse heard the words and did not understand them but fully understood this boy was special.

And so this story ends for now with a mighty horse capable of destroying so many worlds softly walking behind a smiling and laughing boy as both of them headed towards a well deep in the forest, a special well where music was sung by the trees and the Sun of warmth and healing never set.

[Lipinski]

If one could see what's inside the mind of a humming bird is today's inspiration.
*
For yes, it is
true

thoughts of nectar's smell
beating wing to a woke sun
so much
so much
...

a mind of a humming bird awake.

To see
though
in a dream
a swirl of dragon smoke

purple sunsets with a blue moon
a dance
a dance
of birds

[Lipinski]

A Bell

Written by: Alaskan Fog

It was an old bell,
far removed from the copper mine from where it hailed.

Crafted with others to take their place on a fishing boat
a world.

So proud, hoist above the poles being an extension of the brass gurdies
Weaving with waves while below spun
hoochies
whole bait, spoon and
dodgers

A vessel holding true to course
Two float outriggers
Two main deep cannonballs

On the hunt for fin and pause
a source of security and adventure

There!
Hear it?
A bell clangs to draw more attention.

Engaged
Moving
the steel line is bound tight bring something to the surface.

And there!
A king!
A big one!

A gaff or a net?
Both?
Neither?

Main haul the line
So tight the tension
until, there
upon the deck flopped a very large salmon

while atop the poles there smiled
a small copper bell
on the search for more
security and adventure.

[Lipinski]

I do not know where this muse comes from.
To write
and write
and think.

how about you?
do you ever know where the muse to write comes from?
No?
yes?

as said before though,
it beats burning ants with a magnifying lens.

[Lipinski]

Hey parasite, what do you think about lasagna?

"Pizza. It's just another form of pizza."

Exactly.

"Can you go away now and leave me alone in my search for boogers? This recent wind dust storm is producing a vast bounty!"

Knock yourself out parasite. Literally, please, knock yourself out.
***

War

So much in the winds of war, rumors of war.
Leaders of countries banter the bluster of weaponry, strategy, parades,
letting a missile fly to illustrate
while children cling to bed another night
hungry.

A mother watches their child grow in hope, wonder, and for some, pride
Learning to crawl, to walk, run, and with a blur of time
to take their place in a world of uniforms and the belief of lies.

A question, simple at best, War...
Why?

What is gained?
Is it treasure?
Glory?
Is there truly any God, god, gods that are pleased when blood learns how to fly and dry?

What use the energy of the atom when instead of powering industry/home
or even the simple task of endless crops of food and a peaceful life... to waste the moment with a mushroom cloud of death?

How hard is it to debate, compromise, give and inch or a yard while the other side does the same?
Is it harder to seek peace than to rush in a second to die?

War is a decision, one planned before those going to war are even born...

Again,
the simple question...

Why?

[Lipinski]

Words are interesting. They have to be or otherwise writers wouldn't use them and readers would be lost.

The word, sop. Woke up this morning to the sentence bouncing off the mind, "Sop some bread in gravy." Sop. Sopping. Strange. Wondering where the origin for sop came from.

This now lead to where the origin for mentally ill, stupid, retarded, moron, crazy... came from. Probably they all were derived from descriptions of politicians. However, I think there is inspiration from another source, noodling.

Specifically, noodling for cat fish...
*

"Hey Bob, lets go down ta da river n noodle some cats." Billy was related to Bob but everyone in Smuckerville was related in one form or another to each other. Citizens of Smuckerville didn't travel far from their homes.

"Uh yuh. Spose so. Been awhile."

So Billy and Bob sauntered down to the muddy, yucky, slowly moving body of semi solid water to noodle catfish.

Entering the mud filled river, Billy slipped and fell, laughing and wiping mud out of his eyes he said, "Bob, I lost my beer."


"Beer? You brought beer? Basturd. Wheres mine?"

What could go wrong? Two buds spending quality time noodling and drinking beer. Laughing. Having fun. Dirty and slime covered in mud.

"Hey Billy! Foun me a nice hole. Yeeha!" Reaching down into the hole under water Bob reached in and, and, "Oww! Fooking shit crap. Ouch!"

Laughing at his cousin/half brother/quarter sister/mostly moron friend Billy watched Bob hold his bleeding hand now missing a finger, high up into the air.

"Fooking snapping turtle. Bit my finger off!"

*

Yes, I can see where origins of words come from. To stick your hand in a muddy hole in a muddy river that is home to beavers with big teach, snakes with ample venom, turtles that chomp you hand off... Yep, retarded is a perfect word for such who pursue such activities.

[Lipinski]

and
it
is...
true.

[Lipinski]

"Hello..."

"Hello."

"Hello..."

(pause) "I already replied with hello?"

"Hello..."

"Are you okay?"

"Hello..."

"Uhm...Have a good day..".(and the man quickly ran away)

"Hello..."

"Hello."

"Hello..."
...

[Lipinski]

A wrist.
Not any wrist mind you, a very special wrist

now, was it wrested away?
Perhap the titans of deeps held sway against the currents?

Zeus may have his power of rumble
matched only as
Aphrodite ruled his heart.

[Lipinski]

"dID Ya cheCk out the other channel?" the parasite had to yell as numbnuts was lost in music.

What?

"Fuck you, I asked if you checked out the other channel. So. Did you?"

Ha. Parasite. bless your little purple heart, of course, and of course and yes and whatever. Got it?

"That's what I'm talkin about, sheeet man....yeah."

[Lipinski]

"let me guess...Krakken bloody mess?"

Fucking A skippy parasite. I'd say, whee! but, well, fuck it.

"So what are you going to doing now that you're more stupid than usual?"

Whee!

"What? No. Seriously."

Of numbers come the equality of what one expects.

Of balance between chaos and reason.

This is why names mean nothing to me

Which is why a mathematics from Earth makes me nauseous.

Can you hear the applause,
because sure as (gosh darn)
i
can.

[Lipinski]

parasite. I just saluted a giraffe.

"oh. goody. the corgi's are fighting."

Whee!

[Lipinski]

Question: If you were an ogre, what would be your favorite snack? Hummingbirds or dragonflys?

[Lipinski]

Gargantuous
HUge
GigaNtic
HumunGus

Some words to describe what was currently in the way of a traveler.

On this journey the path was one of surety and acceptance and yet there, in the middle of the trail resided a massive solid structure.

It was not there before. Before the path was level and smooth.
Before the journey was free of burden and the journey swift
Today though, today the towering heights were such it blocked the rays of light from the giant sun shining high in the sky.

Interesting in dialogue as to how such an object came to be or how it was placed so quickly.

Wide, tall, and wearing the color of sand.

For the traveler such thoughts were actually more about how to arrive at the destination than as to what this new barricade was standing motionless before it.

There was no sighing, no profanity, no debate. There was nothing more than the traveler seeking the choice of trying to go around the object to the right or left.

At least a human would choose such. A human would try to travel around the object and some would try to climb the obstacle. Some would even choose to carve a tunnel. And yes, some would just shake their head and turn around.

Luckily for this particular traveler, a dog walked up to the traveler. A dog this traveler knew well. And so, in glee the small flea hopped onto the dog where it was a comfortable world for the flea. No more walking. No more worry of obstacles.

And the dog knew this as he nonchalantly scratched the itch on his neck.

As for the obstacle, a cardboard box placed on the floor where fleas choose to travel, and onto this box Thor, Son of Bravey lifted his leg and peed upon the sand colored paper.

Then the traveler and dog went in search of shade, peace, and quiet.

For the world, it was good.

[Lipinski]

Hey parasite, why did the quail cross the road?

"Uh, because they are confused species?"

Nope. They crossed the road so they could provide me a good chuckle. Little fuckers are indeed funny.

"Can I get back to sunbathing now? I'm working on getting a deeper purple hue."

Go for it. And don't eat Ziggy.

[Lipinski]

Imagine standing in a room where they are standing?

Dust flickers and leaves shadows.

A smile on a dogs (face)

Once people called it insane.

[Lipinski]

(blink, blink)

"Look pa, its a deer staring at the headlights."

"Yep"

(screech swerve)

"Did we get him pa? Did we?"

"Yep, dinner, can't wait to tell ma."

[Lipinski]

there is this line
a very thin line
dividing nothing from something
something called, life

and when crossed
in the millisecond before the touch
it sets off vibrations.

[Lipinski]

Edison Generator.

Go ahead writers, be inspired to listening to how a writer writes the script for a man you spin a scam.

There are videos where you can listen to the scam. Youtube or just ask the Google robot to show you the video.

Energy. Energy from nothing. A $200 generator you have to build yourself will save you over 90% on your energy bill.

Watched the video and was especially fascinated when the actor said a snow storm almost froze her grand daughter.

So, what could I be inspired by such a scam?
***

A banana peel

written by:: Can you figure out the scam?

Characters
1, A monkey
2. A banana
3. A thought

She was a monkey. A monkey with a nice name. Her name was Bonnie.

Bonnine loved banana's just as most primates love the potassium laden fruit.

All was well. A monkey, A banana. A thought,

How to make good money without earning it>?
A scam!

The scene is set: A monkey named Bonnie, and as far as female monkeys go...not bad. Not bad at all.
She sat there and peeled a perfectly ripe banana.
And this is where the thought intrudes.

Taking the banana peel, Bonnie threw it randomly with force until through the air and bars to her prison, the peel fell upon a concrete side walk.

The scam was set.

An old man named, Bud, stepped on the peel without looking down where he was walking. And why would he? He was busy watching a cute monkey eat a banana. (insert perverted thoughts with gratuity or think abstract but do you see the scam yet?)

Bud fell and while his pride was hurt his greed kicked in. Seeing a banana peel laying there without a malicious thought and just begging the idea that the Zoo was at fault. A monkey. A banana. A thought.

After the lawsuit the man was awarded $200,000 for pain and suffering while in the background, at the zoo, a young boy laughs at the memory of seeing an old man tripping on a banana peel.

[Lipinski]

"ding!"
perfect timing.
I grow bored of time.
and just in time,
a thought.

Thoughts could be punned to matter
building block of substance
or daresay it be,
reality?

then what point the tip of hours hands give to those precious minutes only to be bombarded by the staccato
of the second hand?

Ha!
A thought,
a thought indeed
Just in time, as always and always will be.

Back and forth and sideways...

"Numbnuts. Enough bullshit. Get your ass outside and wash those windows, but first get me a frozen twinkie out of the freezer."

Yesterday?
Today?
Tomorrow?

Never give me a choice parasite as soon is all the same.

[Lipinski]

"Damn..."

What's up parasite?

"You didn't fall off the ladder."

Nope. Why? Did you want me to?

"Well, kinda but you did buy new chips so, anyway, good to see you survived."

And this is, interesting.
Yesterday to hear the mountains blare out, "NOoo."!"
and tonight a dripping drizzle of rain.
where there of starlight
there is always that one
that one very vivid
memories of smiles.

[Lipinski]

Iron Maiden

written by: the court Jester

"M'lady. You should know my balls itch." A fool can drool and if royalty finds humor, he shall live.

"That's too bad fool. You know what you must do." Her armor glistened as the moonlight mixed with the walled torches. A most interesting dance indeed.

The fool had and held with pride, his slight mound of stature; hump backed. Careening down the walls of the castle. With jubilation in his voice yelling, "Whee!"

The Lady of the Manor shook her head and held the small mask of anger...and yet, a tint ever so small...
a smile.

Sliding motionlessly into the time fabric, her armor shimmered, her face glowed, and the moon took her away.

[Lipinski]

"Whhhaaa...what happened?"

You ate a whole package of hotdogs.

"I did? Yeah, I guess I did. Hey, did you draw on me while I was unconscious? What's the pink stripes? You know pink and purple don't go well together?"

Don't they parasite? Don't they? Just wait until you see what I drew on you 'down there'...

With panic in the eyes the purple blob known as the writers parasite did a quick downward glance and..."Arggh!"

Written on the parasites belly in a large black Sharpie pen were the words, 'Kilroy was here.'

"Who the fuck is Kilroy? I'll kill the bastard...I'll I'll, and what the fuck did you write on my back?"

You'll never know parasite, you'll never know.

[Lipinski]

Inspired by a desert beige metal screw.
All the screws in line.
Hut two, hut two, straight as an arrow
except one
just outside my window
feeling each and every turn
and that's the inspiration for the day.

[Lipinski]

Parasite, look out the window!

"Why? And an, oh by the way, screw you."

That's not nice but come here anyway.

(I guess you could say the purple blob walked, or maybe more of a jiggle, or wiggle...whatever, just think of purple jello)

"So what are you looking at?"

That...

"Damn. Now that is, impressive."

[Lipinski]

A lot of writers are inspired by something called, love. And to them, bravo for trying.
A lot of writers are inspired by many other themes, this thread is an example of some of those themes.
Today.
Today I am inspired by hate. By the constant enforcement of no matter how one tries to steer away from hate, hate still remains.
And to set the mood, hate has flavor. Hate has material substance. Hate oozes with a foul stench. Hate is deadly and toxic. Hate is contagious. Hate is sought as a cure for those who are under the influence of hate. In short, hate is real.
I wonder what will now follow as hate is alien to me.
***

A bubble.
Pretty.
Undulating.
Released by a giggling child in a park along with their friends, family, and happiness.

The sky was clear and blue.
Sounds of laughter followed the bubble as it danced above the grass in a shimmering color changing hue.
A picnic of sandwiches and treats.

It was a beautiful moment on a beautiful day.

And there. coming down a path, a herd of humans released
Teen
Young adults

Swearing
Spitting
Stabbing a bubble and laughing happily.

Children cry
Guardians stand to confront the hateful army
and suffer the verbal harm of language and the physical harm of retreat.

Clouds covered the scene as if to appease the evil of humanity.
Children harmed
Adults angry with some wishing they had the means to fight back with hate and victory.

The herd of beasts laughed and ambled on
In search of more hate, more anger, more evil...
Feeling so happy to be creatures of hate.

The sun peeked out from the clouds just before setting
And some say Earth is a planet of God?
No, this is no planet of God, it is a planet of pure evil and hate.

And yes, there are species among you and the rest of the herd,
Species NOT human
Who embrace the sanctity of evil and hate
thus the perfect mentors for humans of weak minds...

But not for me.

[Lipinski]

More and more obvious as only obvious can be
Sure, obvious can appear as an illusion but that also is obvious.
Obvious can obviously appear past tense as it was obvious
Or in the present as it is plainly obvious.
Ha! And in the 'future' all the obvious of the past and present will be even MORE obvious...

"What are you droning on about now moron?"

Is is not obvious parasite?

"That you're a fucking mental patient?" Fuck yeah it's obvious."

And thank you for noticing.

Maybe though, today the inspiration comes not from the folly of mankind or the kindness of Corgi's. No, today the obvious will be the inspiration as I watch a honeysuckle vine finally attain the goal of reaching the top. Amazing actually. The tenacity of a plant to fight the elements and blindly climb to the heights where a hummingbird gets dizzy.

"Yep. You're obviously a freak."
*

Roots muck about in mud and soil, taking advantage of mineral and moisture.
Diving deep in darkness where microbes and worms pretend they will never be seen.
A bit here and a bit there, all while supporting the body of a vine going in the opposite direction with a different goal and need.

Roots take hold as they feel the tug of the wind.
Ha!
They cling tight now to rocks, soil, and depth.

Above, flaying about like dust trapped in the breeze
Green leaves multiply.
Yellow flowers full of nectar feed.

Grow
Grow
Growing
Soaring and getting battered by sun, by wind, by bugs and birds and just about everything.

A setback here and there sure
A broken branch or stem here, a bruised or lost leaf there and here
and yet
and yet there can be no denial
it is as obvious as it is clear.

Today. a vine clung so tenacious, so firm, taking advice from the roots below it held on.
Laughing at the storms and gale
Shrugging off torrents of rain and leaving such to the roots to play
Today, the honeysuckle vine in all its flowery glory reached new territory,
or
in a poetic way most can never understand,
the vine can now see clearly and talk to the tomatoes.

(Amazing what chicken shit can do)

[Lipinski]

"This time for Africa!"

To see black licoric3 do tumbles and flips!

Sominomina
Sominomina

Whacka
Whacka

Ey
Ey
Ey!

Mother


From all the inspiration watcin=h a piece of licorice do a somersault.

[Lipinski]

Nicely done. (are the keys mov v v vin g slooooower, no, faster?)

anyways, listening to an AI robot 'lady' voice talk about melting glass and making bottles.

The temperature in the furnace needs to be ideal

Hot

Melting

Refracting

and then...

molding.

Whee!