Rocket Cycles

Rob picture

Billy Berries and the Hobo Coat

Billy Berries was a famous musician who played a wicked banjo and wore outrageous outfits. In fact, even though he made a gazillion dollars playing his banjo, he wanted people to look more at his clothes.

During concerts, Billy Berries would stop in the middle of a song to ask his fans, “Do you like my new vest? It’s made with a thousand buttons, each in a brand new, different color invented by insane Mongolian hamburger cooks. It’s znet!”

That was his word. Znet. It meant he liked it a lot.

“Or how about my shoes? The Queen of England needed to go to the bathroom after drinking too much root beer, but she had to make these shoes first because I paid her a lot of money, and she did the pee-pee dance the whole time she was making my shoes. How znet is that?!”
Sometimes, they didn’t even have to be clothes. Billy Berries would wear plush furniture, young oak trees, kitchen appliances, small cars and even live animals (who could ever forget the drama of his grizzly bear concert?)

Yep, Billy Berries loved his clothes, and he was always looking for more and better things to wear. Before each concert, he would always go to the nearest store and buy something new, no matter if it was znet or not.

On this day, Billy Berries found himself in Poopybobbytown, Nebraska, and the only store in the town was Kaplooeybuttz’s General Store which sold second-hand clothes.

“This place looks znet,” Billy Berries told his friends, who were always around, but not really his friends. They only wanted to steal any loose change he dropped from the pockets of his vast wardrobe. But Billy Berries didn’t seem to mind since he had gazillions of dollars.

He walked through the store’s front door which chimed his arrival. “Dudes, a chime. Znet.”

A gigantic smiling fat man wearing a three-piece banana-yellow suit stepped out of an aisle to greet the customers.

“Hello, folks. I’m Jimmy Kaplooeybuttz, owner and manager here. If y’all need help, just call my name.”

“Dudes, fat man yellow suit. Znet!”

Meanwhile, in the alley behind the store, a hobo was using his rolled-up dirty coat as a pillow. But he was woken up by a dog that was peeing on the coat.

“Darned dog! Now I can’t wear my coat!” And the hobo threw the dirty wet coat into a trashcan where it settled in a pool of rotten liquified lettuce.

Betty Kaplooeybuttz, Jimmy’s wife, walked out the back door into the alley. When the smell of the dusty alley hit her, she sneezed and got green snot all over her hands. But she didn’t care, she was in a hurry to get her work done, and work today meant sorting through the donation bin. But she had sneezed so hard, it knocked her brains silly, and she didn’t realize she was pulling stuff out of the trash can which was next to the donation bin. The first thing she grabbed with her snotty hands was the dirty, lettuce juice-moist, peed-on hobo coat. When Betty felt the liquid lettuce on her hands, she looked down and saw what she was carrying. It made her so sick that she threw up on the coat.

“BLECK!! Where did this aweful thing come from?!”

Betty ran to the bathroom to wash her hands. She threw the coat onto the bathroom floor and scrubbed her hands with soap and sandpaper. Then she ran all the way home and took a 17-hour shower, and then she went to church to have the priest bless her hands so that they were clean again.

Bluey Kaplooeybuttz was the son of Jimmy and Betty, and he was in the bathroom stall with the door closed when his mom had ran to the bathroom sink to wash her hands. A few minutes after she left, he finished up, but he saw a big problem.

“Oh no! We done ran out of toilet paper again! Wait, what’s this?”

Bluey saw a sleeve of the coat on the floor poking under the bathroom stall door. He bent over and pulled the coat under the stall door and used it to wipe his butt.

On his way out of the bathroom, Bluey didn’t notice that the dirty, peed-on, lettuce juice-moist, snotty, vomited, poopy hobo coat was stuck to his shoe, and he dragged it all the way to the front of the store where it finally came off his shoe.

“Well, what’s this doing on the floor?” asked Jimmy Kaplooeybuttz, who picked up the coat and put in on the clothes rack where he thought it belonged.

“Wait,” said Billy Berries. “That’s the znetest coat I’ve ever seen! I’ll take it. Don’t put it in a bag; I want to put it on right now! Here’s my money,” and he handed Jimmy a half bazillion dollars.

As Billy Berries put on the dirty, peed-on, lettuce juice-moist, snotty, vomit covered, poopy, stepped-on hobo coat, the sleeves gurgled and squished around his arms. And as he snapped it over his shoulders, wet poop dripped to the ground. But all Billy Berries could do was admire all of the coat’s many natural colors.

“This wet yellow is amazing! And look at this blackish green! And what’s this beautiful dark green ooze, and this dark tan, biley explosion? And, oh, I love the dark brown with hints of corn. Definitely znet,” said Billy Berries to his friends who were not his friends.

They were already sneaking their hands into the pockets of the znet hobo coat, looking for loose change, but they only found gushy nastiness.

Later than night, Billy Berries put on a concert at the PoopyBobbytown Arena. And, as he usually does, he stopped the concert so his fans could admire his new coat.

“Ain’t it znet!”

Village Rabbit and Gore

Samurai figure idea

Images for Andy

Life on the Farm

Grandpa's WWII Maps

Tomato Bugs

Little Boy and Pillowfart: Pt II

Pillowfart was sitting on the sofa in the living room, reading his big science books. Little Boy walked in and pointed at Pillowfart.
"You have gum stuck on your shoes," Little Boy said.
Pillowfart set his book down and bent over to look at his feet and realized he wasn't wearing any shoes. He looked back up to see Little Boy smiling big.
"The score's tied," Little Boy said. "One to one."
Pillowfart pounded the arm of the sofa, "dammit!"

"The Adventures of Little Boy and Pillowfart!"

"It's one of Twain's lesser works."

Little Boy came into the living room after playing outside. He saw his friend Pillowfart sitting on the sofa reading a large book.
"What are you reading, Pillowfart?"
Without looking away from his book, Pillowfart answered, "It's called 'Quasi-lateral Differentiated Aspects of Multi-Faceted Ultraphysics."
"What?! I think you just made up a bunch of words to sound smart."
"Nope," Pillowfart said. "I'm actually quite scientificous."
Little Boy crossed his arms and put the test to his friend:
"OK, smarty pants, so what's the book about?"
Pillowfart lay the book in his lap, held his chin with his hand and thought for a few moments.
"It's about a horse named Dave who loves to eat flowers, but he eats so many that one day he farts, and the fart is so big that it launches him into space, and he doesn't stop until he reaches Mars. So it's about the first horse on Mars. Yes. That."
Little Boy put his hands in his pockets and looked down to the ground, thinking he had been rightly humbled.
"Oh, OK. I guess you really are smart. I'm sorry I doubted you, Pillowfart."

Billy Berries and Caplooey

When Billy Berries, age 9, needed good advice, he would always look for his friend Caplooey, age 10. In Billy’s mind, age was connected to how big you were. So the bigger you were, the older you were, and the older, the smarter. Billy, himself, was a little tall for his age and felt smart enough for it, but at 6-feet-3, 400 pounds, Caplooey was the wisest kid Billy had ever known. And it was only Caplooey’s wisdom that Billy needed that day.

Billy found Caplooey coming off the end of the Dirt Path, which was less a path and more a large, wooded, vacant dirt lot bordered by Fairfax Street, where the two boys lived, on one side and a construction company rental lot on the other. The construction company never locked anything up, so Caplooey liked sneaking onto their lot to see how many trailer generators he could start before the workers chased him off.
Caplooey was sweaty from running from his latest attempt at besting his record but stopped on the Fairfax Street side where Billy caught up with him.

Through, his panting, Caplooey bellowed, “Dude, that was fucking awesome. Seriously, you shoulda seen me turn on those motors. Those guys were so pissed!”
Billy smiled, not brave enough yet to turn on any generators of his own. He wasn’t big enough yet, though he aspired to the day when he could follow Caplooey onto that rental lot. The two friends walked down the sidewalk toward their houses. Billy dropped his question while Caplooey caught his breath.

“Caplooey, we’re learning about the sex education in school. Do you know about the sex education?”
“First of all, dude, it’s just sex. You sound like a dweeb when you call it the education. And second of all, sex is totally awesome!”
“But I heard it was for making babies.”
“No, dude, it’s the best. First you take the girl’s clothes off, and then she tells you to stick it in –“
“The peter?” interrupted Billy.
Caplooey slapped Billy’s shoulder, “The peter, the jubblies, all of it, dude. You stick it in and you just start doing it.”

Caplooey stopped,  looked into the sky, closed his eyes and started swinging his fat in gentle circles, ending each round with a thrust into the air that rippled his fat.
“Dude, when you stick it in, the girl is supposed to say, ‘oh baby’, and it’s like fire!”
Billy cringed. “Wait, what, there’s fire?! And where do you put it in? Do you put it in the butt, because isn’t that where the mommies poop out the babies? Why is her butt on fire?”
Billy’s questions were cut off by the voice of James Earl Jones booming the full length of Fairfax Street.

“Caplooey, get your ass home!”

It was Caplooey’s mom. She only had the voice of the actor, but not the face. She was so ugly, she had to buy new hair curlers every day because the old ones would straighten out when they saw the hairy moles growing on her brown teeth. She was also the only woman Billy figured was big enough to be able to have pooped Caplooey out of her butt.
“Caplooey, get home and clean your pig-shit room or I’m taking away your Metallica for a month!”
“Don’t touch my fucking tapes, Mom! Fuck, dude, I gotta go home,” and Caplooey bounced down the street and into his house where Ugly Earl Jones beat him through the front door with a rolled-up Vogue.”

Billy crossed the street toward home and wondered why anyone would ever put their peter into a fire. Even after everything had been fully explained during sex education class at school, Billy was still confused because no mention of fire had ever been brought up. And he knew there was no point in asking the teacher, Mrs. Grinell, about the fire, because she was shorter than Billy.

Monkey Soup

This one is for Mike, Janeen and the Oh Boys.

Monkey Soup

One day, the Mack family, of Dayton, Ohio, walked to Ireland. There, they met an old man on the road. He was wrinkly and hunched over from being old. He had a walking stick and wore a large hat. He smiled at the Macks and stopped to talk.
“Hello, friends. Are ye enjoyin’ your walk through me fine country?” he asked.
“Yes we are,” said Dad. “And who are you?”
“I be Connor O’Hatstoobig. I own the inn and café just down the road.”
“That’s perfect,” Mom said. “Walking to Ireland has made us so hungry. We would like to eat at your café.”
“Excellent!” said Mr. O’Hatstoobig. “I’ll serve you up me specialty: Monkey soup.”
“Monkey soup?!” asked Orion Mack.
“Why yes, lad, our monkey soup be the most delicious stew south of Dublin.”
Ozias and Oakly weren’t surprised; They were still young enough that everything from floor to ceiling was food to them. Even monkeys.

At the café, the Mack family sat down, stretched out their legs, and let out long breaths of relaxation. It had been a long walk to Ireland from Dayton, Ohio. They could hear Mr. O’Hatstoobig in the kitchen talking to the cook: “Set aside the Cats Heads and Easy Diggins. Bring out some boiled leaves, an Atlanta Special and three 55s for the ankle biters. Then set me new friends up with four bowls of Bonobo guess water.”
“Do you hear that?” Dad asked the boys, “Mr. O’Hatstoobig is speaking in an ancient language called Gaelic. That’s how Irish people used to speak in the olden days.”

The old man brought out some tea for Mom, a Coke for Dad and root beers for all the boys. And soon after came the Monkey soup!
The Macks looked at their bowls of soup carefully, seeing if they could spot any discernible monkey parts, even though they knew the meat would have been chopped and cooked way past looking like any monkey.

Mom cautiously spooned up a mystery chunk of food: “Is this white cube a piece of monkey fat, Mr. O’Hatstoobig?”
“No no, lass. That’s a potato.”
Then Dad looked at a dripping piece of red something: “Is this monkey meat?”
“No, lad. That’s a tomato.”
Then Orion held up a small nub of a piece of food: “Is this a monkey toe?”
“No, wee fella. That’s a white bean.”
Ozias and Oakly didn’t say anything. They were already shoveling soup into their mouths and enjoying it no matter where the monkey parts were hidden.
“Well,” asked Mom, “are there ANY monkey parts in this soup, Mr. O’Hatstoobig?”
“No, lass, it’s all vegetables. And a very fine mix of vegetables, if I don’t say so meself.”
“But, Mr. O’Hatstoobig,” asked Orion. “Why is it called Monkey Soup?”
Mr. O’Hatstoobig shuffled to the kitchen door, swung it open and pointed inside.
“Because it’s made by me friend Dave, the finest chef in all of Ireland.”

Cartoon sneak peek

Fun with mustache

Lascaux

Cumberbitches