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And Then Things Got Weird….

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Artemis gets Her Perfect Ass Banished

New Shark Fin Titled

One celestial evening, after 50,300 hits on YouTube the voguish goddess Leto was forced to watch (in shock and horror) a video of her daughter shopping while dressed in a hideous floral nightgown and tennis shoes.

Artemis grabbed the phone. “Daddy?” The voice on the phone was powerful enough for Bernie to hear every word. The voice was angry enough to generate lightning from the earpiece.

“Artie. Dear Artie. Your mom and I decided that you can’t come home until you lose weight and come to your fashion senses,” daddy Zeus had said. “And tell your hobo friend to hijack himself a new suit with real pants if he’s gonna paint the town with my baby. Bernie’s friend Frankie should have already told him that life’s too short to dress like a bum. And what the hell is that thing you’re drivin’?”

“Uh…” Munch, munch, munch. “Bernie’s Chia.”

“Everyone up here thinks that you’ve gotten weak and out of control. We can’t afford to have the other deities think that the Olympians are pushovers.” Zeus shouted into the phone. “For gods and goddesses sakes, Art-Art, you used to knock ’em dead.”

“Art-Art?” Bernie, her human, heard that, and giggled.

The goddess shot lethal optikos (eye) arrows at Bernie. “Shut up, sandal licker! No, not you, daddy. There is going to be an epic battle with MacHeath’s army soon, so I promised to help Bernie and his trollop friend.”

“You mean Miss Soapy Puppies?”

“Yeah, Dauna.”

“Princess,” the voice said. “Don’t come home until you’ve cleaned up your circle of friends.”

Zeus hung up.

“But, daddyyyyyyyy?” The heroic figure wept a flood of tears. A text appeared. Final judgment came to Artemis swiftly in a furious “bolt of rejection.” The bolt was hurled in the form of an angry text, with an angry minotaur emoji attached. Artemis had just been officially banished from her home and family.

“What family, pop?” she texted back. “Do we even have a family name?”

“Good point, pumpkin. Let me ask your mom,” he wrote. Back on Olympus he asked his wife, “Leto, dear? What’s our last name?” He texted Artemis, “You still there? Okay. Your mom says that our last name is ‘On High.’ We don’t need a last name, pumpkin, unlike the Kardashians. We’re bigger than Lady Gaga. We only use first names. Oh, your mom wants to know…what the hell kind of shoes were you wearing on the Walmart show?”

Zeus’ mighty presence was suddenly gone, and Artemis was hurt, and that meant that she needed tacos. Artemis had become “an embarrassment” to the fashion-conscious Olympian gods, who were tolerant to a point, often turning their backs on lesser Olympian crimes, such as torture, mass murder, incest, rape, infanticide and eating one’s own children.

Shark Fin Soup – Final Chapter: Donette’s Cafe

Final Chapter.

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Bernie carefully lay his fork on the table and stared at his plate. From across the table, his friends Jules and Claire were able to share Bernie’s ‘vision,’ which was framed by bacon, rye toast, home fries, a sprig of parsley and an orange slice. A trio of smiling faces, on his three sunny-side up eggs, began singing ‘Happy Birthday’ in ancient Aramaic. For his birthday, now that he had attained full god status, the entire Holy Family had shown up to wish him well. Well, what do you know, thought Bernie, I must be hanging out with the right crowd. “Darling!” He yelled toward the kitchen, “Darling! Look who’s shown up for my Birthday! Hurry, dear!”

“Hold onto your baguette! God f*cking dammit!”  Donette, his goddess spouse, has Tourettes. She can’t control her foul mouth and she carries a doctors note to sonofabitchf*cking prove it!

“F**K!”  said Donette’s diners in perfect harmony, (‘Group Tourette’s’ is a rare phenomenon) …because…

Glass imploded into the dining room.  A crazed woman, dressed in a XXXXL Walmart flower print Muumuu, commandeering a red mobility scooter, crashed through the restaurant window. Her flapping right arm was clenched around the neck of the frightened Viking MacHeath, who was trying to stab her with a jewel encrusted trident harpoon — that he’d lifted from Poseidon. The scooter’s front wheel was stuck on the window sill when the huge woman grabbed the pitchfork and drove it through Edwin MacHeath’s neck as they nearly tumbled onto Donette’s customers. The scooter wheels were followed through the broken glass by a huge white cat, who managed its own bloody swipe at the Viking’s already spurting neck. The Viking’s helmet fell off revealing a two haired combover. The scooter with the trio on board flipped back out of the window and onto the pier outside where the heroic pair continued to tear into the Viking without getting as much as one drop of blood on themselves.

 

 

Clown Car — A Date with Mr. Jingles

“Clown Car — A Date with Mr. Jingles ”

3. ClassicClown

Miss Giggles paced the hallway of her small apartment in South Bouncy Town. She did not know what to expect of Mr. Jingles, the blind date that her girlfriend,  Roly Poly, had set her up with. A tiny polka dotted VW pulled up to the curb outside the window below Giggle’s small apartment. A cacophony of horns went off from inside the car. Who is this mysterious stranger?

Anxious, Giggles paced, skipped and did hand springs across her apartment. The funhouse mirror along with her silver jumpsuit made her look slimmer and taller than her squat five-foot frame.

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She had a new look and a new name. Many years ago, after a big sneeze from her giant fire-engine red nose, cruel classmates laughed at her and named her “Gluey.”

The name Gluey stuck for years. (Hyuk, hyuk! HONK!)

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Her new boss at the SMACME Fun Company had given her a better name, “Miss Giggles,” that was more suitable to her laughter. Giggles fixed her orange hairdo by Bozette and repositioned the two water balloons in her bra.

Her date knocked on the door with a familiar rhythm, “Shave and a haircut. five cents.”

“Hiya, hiya, hiya! Call me Mr. Jingles!” Mr. Jingles was dressed to the nines in a yellow baggy jump suit with six-inch blue polka dots and three red buttons the size of custard pies. His matching hat was two feet high and came to a handsome duncey point. Thank the Lord Bozo he wasn’t another hobo clown like her ex, Patches —with charcoal all over his face. My daddy, Boingo would like Mr. Jingles, she thought. So would my mommy. Miss Giggle’s mom, Bingo always wore the baggy pants in the Tumbles family.

“I bought you some di-did-diddlely flowers!” said Mr. Jingles, as he thrust forward a bouquet.

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The flowers flopped over when she grabbed them. “How pretty! I’ll put them in water.”

“No probalobelummo, Miss Giggles! I have plenty of water right here!” He squirted her with his platinum plated Fizz-o-Rama seltzer bottle. “Hyuk, Hyuk!”

Soon, they were performing summersaults down the stairs and out to Jingle’s star-covered Volkswagen bug, she wondered, Is it true what they say about size 28 feet?

Mr. Jingles clicked his remote and the “Merry-go-round Broke Down” played across the Rubbermaid Habitat lined street as his car doors popped open. “Everybody, out! Hyuk, hyuk!” said Mr. Jingles as he motioned for his date to step back. Twenty clowns, two wearing “Kick Me!” signs on their backs, three riding miniature bicycles, some with pet chimps, and a couple with a pig in a baby carriage wearing a bonnet emerged from the back seat. They streamed down the dark street, each honking their “own horn.” Mr. Jingles held open the car door for Miss Giggles. “You can get in miss! Safety first! Buckle up!” He handed Miss Giggles a buckle. “Golly! I hope you’re hungry! Hey! How about Chuckle’s Cheese? I reserved the ball pit for us.”

“Isn’t that a bit pricey?” Giggles asked politely.

“Heck no! Nothin’ is too much fun for my girl! Hyuk, hyuk!” said Mr. Jingles as he pulled out a wad of Monopoly money. “We’re gonna paint the town red, and green and yellow and…”

Part II — Chuckle’s Cheese

“Please, my dear have a seat,” said Mr. Jingles as he pulled a “Wet Paint” sign from underneath his date. “Gotcha!”

“Oh, Mr. Jingles!”

“How about pie? Do you like pie, miss Giggles?”

“Custard.”

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“Oh, goody!” He called to the waiter, “Garçon! May we order a half dozen custard pies — with whipped cream?” Mr. Jingles turned toward Miss Giggles and placed his giant red glove on her giant blue glove. “Would madame care for something to drink? Oui? Waiter! We’ll have two bottles of your finest seltzer.”

When their meal arrived they shoved three pies into each the other’s face and rinsed each other down with the two bottles of 1856 Dieu Maudit le Clown Seltzer water.

“I don’t feel well,” said Giggles suddenly. She bent over the dinner table, stuck her tongue out and … “Hack, hack, hack!” She pulled a blue handkerchief out of her mouth, which was tied to a yellow one, which was tied to a green one, which was tied to…… This went on and on for nearly a two gazillion minutes!

“Are you okay, missy?” he asked. “Let’s get some air!”

“Whatsamattah? Can’t ya take a choke?” she giggled.

Mr. Jingles took her by the hand outside. He lit a cigarette and tossed the match into her pocket.

Mr. Jungles casually asked Miss Giggles if she smoked.

“I only smoke when I’m on fire! Oh, no. I’ve been incinerated!”

“Well, there ya go! Hyuk, hyuk! You sure are hot!” Mr. Jingle’s lifted his duncey cap to reveal a plastic fireman’s hat. His red nose began to blink as he blew into a siren ring and ran circles around her.

“Save me! Save me, Mr. Fireman!” she cried.

Mr. Jingles stopped at his VW, unlatched the hood, grabbed a pail of confetti from inside and dumped it on her head. “Hyuk, hyuk! Gee, I’m sorry!” he said. “Here! Have another flower!” It squirted water into her eye, then drooped like the roses. Mr. Jingles grabbed her rouged cheeks and kissed her on her wax lips. Their noses beeped together.

“C’mon!” said Mr. Jingles. “Let’s go for a ride!”

It was a wild ride as they careened through the faulty stop lights of Bouncy Town and headed up the Benny Hills toward Sock-it-to me Lane overlooking moonlit Lake Guffaw.

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Sock-it-to-me Lane

Once parked, they kissed and squeezed each other, producing many honks and beeps. There was barking from the back seat. Mr. Jingles was also an accomplished ventriloquist. “Woof! Woof!”

“What’s that Mr. Jingles?”

“A banana!”

“No, silly. I mean who is barking?”

“That’s my dog Sprinkles! Wanna see? Hyuk, hyuk.” Mr. Jingles opened his door and got out of the car. He tilted his seat forward and said, “Mr. Sprinkles needs to go for a walk!” as he grabbed a leash and pulled on it. The leash had an empty loop where the dog’s head would have been. “Miss Giggles, We’ll be right back! Then Sprinkles will leave us alone.” Mr. Jingles walked to a nearby tree with the leash and waited while his imaginary dog did his business. When they returned to the car, Mr. Jingles threw the leash into the front seat. “Oops! Sprinkles wants to sit in front, Miss Giggles. Whaddaya say? Let’s sit in the back seat. It can hold forty clowns!”

When in back, Mr. Jingles slipped off his size 28 shoes, and SHAZZAM!  Yes, thought Miss Giggles. It IS true what they say about big feet! ———— They stink!

And before you could say ‘Honk Honk’ Mr. Jingles had stripped down to his Happy Birthday Suit. “Har Har! Make a wish and blow!”

“Mr. Jingles you’re so much fun! Hee Hee Up until now, my love life has been a roller coaster — a Tilt-A-Whirl — and, and a funhouse!”

There was a knocking on the car window. The spell was broken.

“Uh, oh,” said Mr. Jingles. “It’s the Keystone cops! Get dressed, Hoppy.”

“Hoppy?” Who’s Hoppy? she thought. “Who in the Three Rings of Barnum is Hoppy?”

Jingles ignored her question. “They only want to chase us around the car with billy clubs ‘til our pants fall down.”

“Hey, I asked you something, Buster! Who is this floozy named Hoppy?  Have you been up here with other clownesses?”

Jingles ignored her again. “Oh, come on! Isn’t this fun?” Mr. Jingles rolled down the window! “Good evening occiffers…huh?”

Miss Giggles recognized the men outside the car behind the glare of their kaleidoscope flashlights. It was the notorious Muggles Brothers! Scary clowns.

“All of youz! Everybody! Outta the car!” said Boffo Muggles.

“Go steal a hamburger!” said Mr. Jingles as took the bubblegum from his mouth, fastened his jumpsuit with it, and stepped out of the car. He offered the Muggles brothers jelly beans if they promised to go away. Miss Giggles followed Jingles straightening her boxer shorts. She looked behind her to find out that yet another steady stream of clowns were exiting Mr. Jingles’ car.

The Muggles Brothers began “mugging” or making faces at the couple. Mr. Jingles surprised Boffo and knocked him down with an inflatable baseball bat, resulting in birds around Bofo’s head. Boffo popped right back up. Bobo Muggles said, “Give us all of your M&Ms, Jingles.” Boffo pulled out a gun that looked like a cannon. Mr. Jingles stood back and offered to give them everything. He started to empty his pockets. There were frogs, a rabbit, giant bloomers, white pigeons and hand-buzzers. “That’s all I got! Hyuk.”

“Mr. Big-shot Jingles is holding back on us,” said Bobo.

A “Bang!” sign popped out of Boffo’s gun barrel. Then, his brother Bobo hit Mr. Jingles with an inflatable sledge hammer sending him flying across the dirt lot where he landed squarely on his butt. Jingle’s big ears made his head look like a wing nut as it spun around. Jelly beans blasted from his pointy hat like a Piñata.

Miss Giggles remembered the two whoopee cushions in her back pocket. She threw them onto the ground and jumped on them with both feet, scaring the Muggles brothers away and saving the candy for all of the little children who love the Circus.

“You saved my life, Hoppy, uh …I mean Miss Giggles,” said Mr. Jingles, who was weaving, as she scooped up all of his candy and put it into her over-sized pockets. “Hoppy, huh?” Clown or no clown, he was only dating me for FUN! Mr. Jingles had  passed out before she could strangle the Casanova with his six-foot checkerboard necktie.

The ambulance arrived within minutes. Miss Giggles watched as the attendants loaded Mr. Jingles into the back on a gurney and sped off, in circles, of course… dumping him back onto the parking lot and, on the next round, fatally running him over, repeatedly, until the honking stopped. Mr. Jingles had gone to the Big Top in the sky. “Huyk, hyuk, hyuk!” Miss Giggles laughed. “Your fun-filled nights at Sock-it-to-me Lane are over Romeo!” She skipped back toward Bouncy Town, laughing-all-the-way. “Hyuk, hyuk, hyuk!”

But we all know that poor Miss Giggles was really crying on the inside.

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Moonlight, Artemis and Cheeseburgers

Bernie cracked open an eyelid. The lunar light had filled the room. Light as a feather, the specter of a tall pale woman had settled astride his waist, replacing his cat who now sat at the foot of the bed. A long black braid, full of stardust, tumbled down her bare right shoulder. The light danced across on her long white legs and silk tunic. The folds of her garment fanned out like gardenia petals. With each of her deep breath the white cloth fluttered and teased across Bernie’s chest. She leaned close to see if he was still asleep.

There was no scent of flowers when she exhaled above his  lips. That would have been simple and pleasant. Poor Bernie Benedict never knew what hit him. A goddess! The woman’s lips had been anointed with the divine.

A dazzling blend of home-made chili, tangy American cheese, fruity floral onions, crisp kosher pickles and magnificent beef accords.’ 

MoonGoddess

A wee little circumc…uh, snippet from: The Man From Nantucket

“The hair in Sam’s nose and ears caught fire, and the threadbare material of his pants began to dissolve in response to the wench’s corrosive parlance. Mariah’s skirt, now in shreds, was no more than a mop swabbing Sam’s bounding foredeck.”
― from “The Man From Nantucket: The Man From Nantucket (American Legends)”
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The Kingdom of the Cats (on Amazon)

Beautiful and inspiring true stories about love, life and aquiring wealth…..https://media.giphy.com/media/3o7WTrG9pWUVCOTW4U/giphy.gi

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On the next episode of Shark Fin Soup…

Bloody Hand Print Dark

>>>>> The cop was distracted by the sound of purring on the quiet pier as he approached the Cafe. He pulled a small revolver from the pocket of his windbreaker. The source of the sound was the size of small car, however white and furry.
It was Bomba rolling over and showing his tummy.
“Awwwww,” said the cop, unable to resist. “Good Kitty.”
When Captain Marquandson relaxed his gun and leaned toward the giant cat, Bomba took a swipe and split open the cop’s boozy torso .
Bomba then offered his prey to his boss, Artemis, to finish off.
Artemis ripped out Captain John Marquandson’s diseased liver and held it in front of his face.
“Ha ha! Hey, Johnny boy,” she said. “isn’t this thing supposed to go thump thump thump?”
“No, biotch! Only hearts go thump thump thump,” said Captain John on his slow motion voyage to the bloody planks.
“Dammit, Captain, I’m a goddess not a surgeon!” She threw his poisoned liver into a trash can.

Bats ^^Ö^^ The Dinner Hall Scene

“No one tells my Gibor children what to do, Gretel Van Helsing!”roared the twenty-foot tall Saturn who had burst through the door and took a place in front of Vlad’s crew. He squatted and opened his arms to the stupid trusting Gibors. “Come to Daddy, kids!”

“This doesn’t look good, brother!”said Gretel. “We should make like lightning, and bolt!”

Always obedient, the repulsive Gibors ran into the arms of their daddy, who had created their miserable but delectable race long ago in ancient Mesopotamia. Daddy Saturn began to bite their heads off in quick succession. The entire room, already sick to their stomachs, was startled to see a continuous splattering loop of Francisco Goya’s Saturn Eating His Son. Drooling, the giant smiled with his mouth full, burped and asked, “Who’s got the Sriracha?”― from “Bats”

^^Ö^^

https://read.amazon.com/kp/kshare?asin=B00T2XBVYU&id=Uu0mDM37T0ytYenmK4-pdg&reshareId=1V1PQ9PGQSKVH69GKF7J&reshareChannel=system

An Interview with Kālī (from Shark Fin Soup)

New Shark Fin Titled copy

It was 6 p.m. The end of Bernie’s first day at the Interpol office in Los Angeles. He was beat. The agent’s job at the agency was based on his ‘talent.’ Bernie had been hired because he was not only able to see, but also communicate with religious apparitions.

Bernie’s first day on the job ended with a short, unscheduled, but action-packed interview in his office with the Hindu goddess  काली (Kali).

A few minutes earlier, Kali, being her usual sweet self, looked down at Bernie through the splinters of his new desk and grinned her blood covered rack of 14K gold teeth.

“I AM THE GREAT KALI!!!!” She circled the desk and castrated its four legs with a swipe of the four Jambiya  घुमावदार चाकू in her four hands, pinning Bernie to the floor in the middle of the rubble.

“Please, stop, काली!” he pleaded.

“Call me DOOOOOOOOOMMMM, Agent Benedict,” the Goddess of Destruction hissed, “AND you will thank me for beating this lesson into your sappy skull. My गुंडापन Thuggee followers, who number in the millions, still send me sweet little boxes containing their progeny’s still-beating hearts on Saint Jack the Ripper’s Day. I just want you to know that what, I, THE GREAT KALI!!!!, am capable of. What I can do to you…is NOTHING…Mwahahahaha…Nothing, compared to what that Brazen HUSSY Dauna Robinson will do to your maracas before you leave the building TONIGHT! … By the way,” Kali said, while grooming her fluttering eye lashes with her flaming jalapeño tongue, “This is hard for me to ask.”

“What? Anything! Anything! Spare me, oh, great Kali! Your wish is my command, oh fearsome goddess!” said the fetal quivering loogie named Bernie.

“Stand up, Agent Benedict. I was only joshin’ with ya,” Kali said, while brushing the wood dust off of her armored golden sari. “Do you think that you can set me up on a date with your friend, Frankie?”

“The Sumatran?”

Kali softened her voice. “I’m asking you as a friend

.…Or else, Worm!”

 

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