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Millions of Mouthtalk: The "TASTE" Chronicles (July 2013)
with Weaver and Kouns
ZK: Green bean's going off the mouthrails in the mouthdesert. Normalrick@normalrick.com. Grayday is on the case. BOOHOO.
RW: Tell Blue Boy there's no such thing as a harsh man.
ZK: Slicklick. I'm his mouthmouth.
RW: Scrounging and lounging. “Valley of tears.”
ZK: Giant hand Carwash. Starting to get real jazzed up about being Mexican.
RW: Frog frame. Dent acres.
ZK: Blade country. Slice and dice. Pioneer pea brainz. Tent of tears.
RW: I am camping. It's the 4th of July. I'm naked in America and I'm breathing on a candy bar.
ZK: You can almost TASTE the frontier life. Frontier foolishness.
RW: I'm on the air.
ZK: Going to gobble town on the fried taco expressway. Weeping Weaver wet with weiner juice.
RW: Your own ox by Bea Arturo but been warned cousin doubts that my man limps. Mouth over Miami.
ZK: Hamming it up with hazy hamsters on hospital hill. Getting some knee work. Middle lane medley.
RW: Boner boat won't stiff you it'll tip you. Air mouth. Den of dum dums and thumb suckers.
ZK: Sleeping in the dog cage again. Floating down the river of waaaaaaaaah.
RW: Skulldug a pea brain on the carpet of life. Crow me a cuckoo all seeing dickhole. Cry for a pickup game of death rush.
ZK: Smoky pounders. Big bend turd love. We're gonna swim in the sad sack sea in St Loueeeee.
RW: Computers seperate the grown up from the grubs. Thank you. Thank you.
ZK: I live in your house, I live in your mouth. I'm LIVE on your mouth.
RW: Knuckle drag to edge pickle breath.
ZK: Old dad's looking to get wet.
RW: Whimpy whiner happens to scan you. They don't have water in the Midwest. Lay your sweat out to dry and hope the drift sways you on over to tongue tied. Anyway, you'd sink like a log, waterboy.
ZK: I'm swimming right now, goof off. In your waterbed.
RW: Sad sack waterboy Kouns sweating out a lodge of tears. Mouth tears. Trotter gas huffing like a fox's fix. Fathead fluff Huff took the bait and bought the farm. Hey WEAVER you wear the pants and I'll wear the paint. We will buy the legs. Legtalk.
ZK: Weenie Weaver Weeping in the Watering hole. Ask me about my grandcat. Ozark oddballz.
RW: Make sure and get bit by a spider. Also, keep your eyes peeled for Toonerville.
ZK: Nuclear nutcase. Trom-bonehead. I'm playing as 4 Hands right now. It's going really well. Everyone's saying “Rick finally got his act together.”
RW: Couldn't see a thing. Couldn't sell a dream. Your waspy bod is the finest in senile living. Cool. A rainbow catered by Tony. Masstextomy.
ZK: I talked with your mouth. It was thrilling.
RW: Head in the head museum. “Well here I am but no mustache” -Walt Disney
ZK: Camera's writing make up names and issuing tickets. That's Private Horse for you.
RW: Black Jack on ice, barkeep.
ZK: Sunman. Think about it. My suns know what you do in the dark. Piebaby. I'm coming for you Grandma Ricky.
RW: Guest who? Poor guy. Poop guy. Von. Your name was in the phone book. I looked you over. You are on deck. It's easy. 4236225484 call VON now. Love nest vest. All for you baby bird. What a fun lil plucky fuck you are. The language of love mouth. Hey you ol stump grinder, you ain't got a bone in your body save for that funny bone in your skull.
ZK: I don't need bones. I'm wearing yours. They're brittle as wet cat food. Poor little Ricky, asleep in dreamland, dreaming of kitty kats licking his sad sack body. OK, that's fine Ricky Boy. Guess I'll just talk to Von tomorrow.
RW: Potty badge. The decent diaper twins. You're making a mountain out of a dunghill.
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