Back in the 90's, I had a hobby of following my friends around at clubs and making them write bad poetry for me. The word poetry was used very loosely. Well, completely incorrectly would be a better term since it was also used for articles, completely fabricated self-help columns and random complete and utter nonsense.
These are the results of those (often drunken) ramblings.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

Itsy bitsy spider all fucked up

by: Nora

It was a gloomy Tuesday afternoon (it must have been Tuesday cuz that’s when the Shell stations sell their super unleaded for five cents less).

I filled up Lucky (my car) with at least eight gallons cuz that’s the minimum purchase for a free car wash. The attendant gave me a ticket with the code to use for the car wash: 666

As I drove up to the panel I began to dial 6…6…6… I noticed there was an itsy bitsy tarantula resting on top of the panel.

I immediately loved her and called her Fluffy.

I took a piece of cardboard I found in my car and tried to scoop her up into it with the hopes of giving her a home.

Alas! She fell to the water. I searched and searched but couldn’t find her and as I sadly drove up to the car wash I heard her fragile body crushed under Lucky’s back tire.

Fucked up!

This one has the distinction of being the only thing ever written by Nora for the zine, so it's pretty special. Not good, but special. This was actually a true story. Except for the part where it was a tarantula, the rest is all true. I remember Nora coming to work very upset that she had killed a spider.

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