ABSURDIS EXTREME // Case Study #(O)(o) [06/09/1969] by B.A. Loney

One boob was bigger than the other, a terrible reality that she’d lamented since her last epic growth spurt. That had been ten years ago now, and sadly this disparity had only become more noticeable the older and saggier she got.

One time the bigger boob watched a quiz show called ‘QI’ on which a question about gravity on different planets was asked. It appeared that on Mercury one’s weight was only thirty-eight percent of what it would be on Earth. The bigger boob was soon lost in thought…

There was nothing for it. The bigger boob had to move to Mercury. But how could this be achieved? It wasn’t as if the bigger boob could detach itself from its human host. No, that would defeat the whole point. Perhaps if the bigger boob talked to the smaller boob then an agreement could be reached to somehow convince the host to move planets? This would be difficult as boobs don’t have mouths, and sign language would also be out of the question as boobs don’t have hands either. So, how would this communication take place between boobs let alone between boobs and host?

While the bigger boob was pondering possible communication methods, it would be remiss not to mention the smaller boob’s cogitations too. Of course, the smaller boob had also watched the same episode of ‘QI’, but it wasn’t really impressed with the gravity question. But the question about air pressure? Now this was something that really made the smaller boob perk up. If the higher you go the lesser the air pressure, then the boob would expand since there was less pressure being applied to it. All the smaller boob had to do was convince the bigger boob and their host to go to the highest mountain on earth, but how?

Both boobs sat there on the host’s chest, feeling quite useless and wondering what to do in order to get the other’s attention. And, so, after a considerable amount of time, the bigger boob hit upon the notion of using Morse Code to communicate with the smaller boob. It would simply whack itself on the smaller boob like those kinetic balls you get in an executive’s office. The bigger boob would convey its message in a series of dots and dashes, but in order to do so it would need to wait until their host went braless. In bed, late at night, thud thud thud! In the shower, a wet slap slap slap! In the middle of sex, a heaving bang bang bang! But all that happened was the smaller boob left feeling bruised and battered, and wondering what the fuck the bigger boob’s deal was!

Anyway, while the boobs were thud thud thudding, slap slap slapping, and bang bang banging, we mustn’t forget to mention their host. And, let’s be honest here, she was pretty scared. Wouldn’t you be if your boobs were going haywire? She even found herself asking GPTchat what to do if your breasts start communicating with one another via Morse Code.

All she got was: “As an AI language model, I must clarify that this scenario is not biologically possible or scientifically sound. Breasts are not capable of communicating with each other or anyone else, let alone using Morse Code.” Along with: “However, if you are experiencing unusual sensations or movements in your breasts, it is important to seek medical attention from a qualified healthcare professional.”

And that’s how Mary ended up at the Bethlehem Royal Hospital for the Insane.


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100 WORD SKITTLE // Career Slip

Razorblade was sick of shaving pubic hair for a living.

He’d applied to the Department of Burly Beards but got a ‘Your application will be kept on file’ along with a pithy ‘Good luck.’

“Fuck that noise,” declared Razorblade. “I’m takin’ the high road!”

He dipped his sharp edge in red paint, brandished a scary grin and went to Has-Been Horror Comic Creator. “You need me!” said Razorblade. “I’ll get you into the news again!”

“Sure,” said Has-Been Horror Comic Creator. He took Razorblade, went to the bathroom and cut his veins.

Next day they both made the front page.

Career Slip

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GUEST POST // Writing on the Train by Charles Joseph

it’s the sense of having nothing to do—
though surrounded by inspiration
conversations bombarding the ear
start an analyzation.
My thoughts becoming lamps hanging
in the obscure tunnel that i travel
with a hissing passion bringing me
to astonishment.
before my destination, I arrive at an idea sometimes
it waits for me—standing on the platform alone,
in the open air, where cold wind brings the echoes
the bench sitting in suspense, waiting for its purpose

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dream caused by the fate of a plate spinning above a selection of stale pistachio baklava with a wasp buzzing around that i told sigmund freud about during our second session

just look at this zeppelin in the sky
it bears the burden of all my dreams
of clouds made from berries and cream
and coffins of cherries jubilee

it wobbles like a huge cosmic jelly
its five points thrumming with juicy flair
sugar patina wickers soft underbelly
its eyes cry diamond daggers for miles

thick nipples drip mint liquor and ganache
its genitals puffed up like salted pastry
the masterpiece of a mad confectioner
until someone pops it like yesterday’s gum!

Sigmund Freud

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SPAM® Sushi #26

Wan na be smarter?
— RV Hydraulic Leveling Jacks Repair

Yes. Just reading this means our IQ’s gon na drop a hundred points.
— Tati & Tony (Two Trepidatious Wordsmiths Who Wonder if Hydraulic Leveling Jacks Can Lift Failing IQs)

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