Categories > Original > Humor > The Book of Hondo
Knock! Knock!
(Who’s there?) I be trippin’.
Canst no longer stand the heat in the kitchen, unto the City of Fat Children, down with Homer Jay and Poppin’ Fresh chillin’.
In the henhouse of Jedi ninja chickens and a posse of pink and purple kittens with magical powers, who eat fire flowers, spinneth like a sum’bitch, can’t tell which is which; tossin’ fireballs at each other! (One feather-pluckn’ scene after another!)
For that damn !Gung bushman looketh over my shoulder and he’s getting bolder, like the robo-dog Dark Toaster, or the monkeyman with his walking staff, who wieldeth the Power of the Jade Giraffe.
Divine litigation shall come to pass: when Jehovah cometh out of the closet, He shall sue thine ass.
(Subliminal soup my mind hath become, the stuff of dreams, and then some.)
’Tis good to be great, and I feeleth really back, (but tho everything’s all OK, I just feeleth out of whack.)
’Twill fry every synapse in thy brain ’til it snaps, for if it can’t bend, thy mind wilt collapse.
’Tis okay to talk to thyself for hour’s on-end, but when thou talketh back (Then thou hast gone off the deep end.)
That’s just thine opinion, nothing’s wrong with me. (Once the shrink arriveth, we shall see.)
I’m the craziest bastard thou wilt ever meet! (I can’t deny that.) So just admit defeat.
To talk to thyself is human, to talk back divine, and I have not slept since 1989. (Sure, but thou’rt doing just fine…)
My mind must be playing tricks on thee. That’s okay, for it also playeth them on me.
(Thou’rt totally insane! fucked up in the head!) But I knoweth a raven from a writing desk. (What he said.)
For I’m half immortal, and three times stronger than myself! (I knoweth not the math on that…) I shall give ’em hell!
I can compliment and dis thee at the same time. (And thou canst do all that whilst ye rhyme?)
I am a living example of the Chewbacca Defense: Thou must acquit me for I DO NOT MAKE SENSE.
Crazy like a fox, and nutty as a squirrel (Get thee out of my head!) Now thou’rt in my world!
(Thou’rt fucked, and I don’t think I like thy kind.) Try not to think about it, or it will hurt thy mind.
They just don’t make straight jackets like they used to, tho. (Thou hast been in enough of them, so thou shouldst know!)
Yeah, ye know me, I’m down with Don Quixote; why, just last week, I talked to Ben Kenobi: he said, “Use the Force.” and thou canst quote me.
(Well, that’s it, I guess he showed me. But thou couldst live a normal life if thou couldst overcome it.)
If there is a normal, I’m the farthest thing from it, and fuckin’ proud of it! (But thou—) Shove it! I suffer not from insanity, for I enjoy every minute of it!
Out of my mind, be back in five minutes. (If thou’rt out of thy mind, then right now nothing’s in it.)
That’s what thou thinketh is behind it: I lost my mind, I was too busy to find it.
(I knoweth what’s wrong, thou’rt beyond help.) Shut up! Now, I’m thru talking to myself!
(Who’s there?) I be trippin’.
Canst no longer stand the heat in the kitchen, unto the City of Fat Children, down with Homer Jay and Poppin’ Fresh chillin’.
In the henhouse of Jedi ninja chickens and a posse of pink and purple kittens with magical powers, who eat fire flowers, spinneth like a sum’bitch, can’t tell which is which; tossin’ fireballs at each other! (One feather-pluckn’ scene after another!)
For that damn !Gung bushman looketh over my shoulder and he’s getting bolder, like the robo-dog Dark Toaster, or the monkeyman with his walking staff, who wieldeth the Power of the Jade Giraffe.
Divine litigation shall come to pass: when Jehovah cometh out of the closet, He shall sue thine ass.
(Subliminal soup my mind hath become, the stuff of dreams, and then some.)
’Tis good to be great, and I feeleth really back, (but tho everything’s all OK, I just feeleth out of whack.)
’Twill fry every synapse in thy brain ’til it snaps, for if it can’t bend, thy mind wilt collapse.
’Tis okay to talk to thyself for hour’s on-end, but when thou talketh back (Then thou hast gone off the deep end.)
That’s just thine opinion, nothing’s wrong with me. (Once the shrink arriveth, we shall see.)
I’m the craziest bastard thou wilt ever meet! (I can’t deny that.) So just admit defeat.
To talk to thyself is human, to talk back divine, and I have not slept since 1989. (Sure, but thou’rt doing just fine…)
My mind must be playing tricks on thee. That’s okay, for it also playeth them on me.
(Thou’rt totally insane! fucked up in the head!) But I knoweth a raven from a writing desk. (What he said.)
For I’m half immortal, and three times stronger than myself! (I knoweth not the math on that…) I shall give ’em hell!
I can compliment and dis thee at the same time. (And thou canst do all that whilst ye rhyme?)
I am a living example of the Chewbacca Defense: Thou must acquit me for I DO NOT MAKE SENSE.
Crazy like a fox, and nutty as a squirrel (Get thee out of my head!) Now thou’rt in my world!
(Thou’rt fucked, and I don’t think I like thy kind.) Try not to think about it, or it will hurt thy mind.
They just don’t make straight jackets like they used to, tho. (Thou hast been in enough of them, so thou shouldst know!)
Yeah, ye know me, I’m down with Don Quixote; why, just last week, I talked to Ben Kenobi: he said, “Use the Force.” and thou canst quote me.
(Well, that’s it, I guess he showed me. But thou couldst live a normal life if thou couldst overcome it.)
If there is a normal, I’m the farthest thing from it, and fuckin’ proud of it! (But thou—) Shove it! I suffer not from insanity, for I enjoy every minute of it!
Out of my mind, be back in five minutes. (If thou’rt out of thy mind, then right now nothing’s in it.)
That’s what thou thinketh is behind it: I lost my mind, I was too busy to find it.
(I knoweth what’s wrong, thou’rt beyond help.) Shut up! Now, I’m thru talking to myself!
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