Work in Progress Random Sample  (updated 8/6/2022):



Kip Slangularre (3)

Okay; then; that was the gush of the what have you and the surprise that flowed through everyone in town the lawyers the judge the Damians the Julius the frogman and his Willies and the Bertha’s all ‘round-world—got—as’—astonished down-tootin’ when the lawyers what lawyers working for the Damians to sue ‘ue ‘u’ Sod Martin for everything he was worth those very same sharpened steel knifblading hottielegalles turned up a young man name of Kip Slangularre, who also worked at the sod farm, and, like, said—there had been another death.

It was the Damian’s lawyers who yes no.

Death yes no maybe kind of like, yah another death.

Yes no it was the Damian’s lawyers fo’ Ben Damian, deceased.

Of maybe too, a murder. Plus a death, well.

No not two, one, but—kinda maybe even more, but.

Get real Kip. Get real. Who; and he started talking so—lets jump up ‘head, and in.

—It was Lawrence, yah—


Davey Lawrence was yes—I’m sure that was his name. He was cocky but Sod kept him on because he was the only one knew even a little of the massively steelie-booted hundredwheeled bunandy-zhangin’ water-root system rolled all ‘round Sod’s great-biggest green rooted circularity—s’what it seemed to be when viewed by unknowns and noneessentials, et cetera, et-tu—when seen flying over cross-country—Ezekiel—aneniende las systemo’d stod dead its rollering and deposit sometimes a three-yard wet deep o’er the field which needed to be swum down into for the failed mechanikamystical leading edge sensors—available also in black crackle if thy body sow request’d when off-slashed her majesty’s most painful foot-corns after which she signed on to a mass celebration needled up fine with the appropriately respectful grand-flourishes a la any available royal fireworks overture will do if nothing else matters—in the opiate of her grand gowning ‘n—overall hoopla! Electric chair. Grind in, crush tight yes, yes, yes, please don’t ask it again; what, ‘re you deaf? Yes, I’m sure. Lawrence was his name—why would I say it if I were not sure? I am sure as I’m dead but alive still, right here, he’d been seen slamming down his cap; he’d been heard by many overalls cursing out loud; and, kicking up clods to be better propelled, he’d run ran ren-plunge’d in the flood muck and all; with the two twenty still toggled up off the control board. How difficult! How dangerous! All this will I give you, if you will but—no matter that’s later and this is here now judge sorry tap tap fizz fizz sorry judge sorry oof! Why in the gut like that—oof! Oof! Okay—and we’d watch from afar the wild lengths he’d stay under, breath held, ‘n ‘s bag of a lung—one got removed ‘fore the war hiss hiss hiss. Bonk. So says his legend. Ah yes, by y’all’s walls of noise threw up first o-er your water then second in my face, he’d come up, go down, come up, down, up, three, four—bleat, bleat, bleat, bahhhh—sometimes more or less, but. He had what it took to do whatever it took to get that round rollering hosepakinishtikonne up online again. Slow he’d come back, the lake off behind draining down swiftly, and he would yell half drowned in ruined clothing and all, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—I’m gonna’ give hell to Martin I see him. Is he there? Look peer lean is his car there? Look, peer, is he—is he the no he seems not to be he’d damned lucky’s sis twat, I will once and for all choke the hell electric chair from him if that is what chair it will end up electric electric chair to get him to fly out a factory crew—no don’t tell me of expense, what’s expense when the th’ t’ ‘e? God damn, crap. Look at me, look—the drench and the filth off me, and the wheeze in wheeze out my brain want so bust, and be free in the open air, see? Even my organs rebel knowing they will die sooner or later, die inside of me, for as long as that sucker’s not fixed. Thank you Carmen—oh, swoot. And, actually, at least two three eight or quite a few less times we saw Lawrence charge up to Sod’s house, when his blackbulker of a used-up rustbucket—formerly a solid good Lincoln—squatted in his side-driveway. Sure, Martin was at the farm now and then, ‘stead of the casino or the bar, at last a few times each ten decades. Go on up his side-driveway, Alice. That’s right. That’s right! We got to hear it. What happens? The whole crew paused there, wanting to know—uh—what? No judge, sorry—I keed, I keed, All right. Okay.

Lawrence went to the house, and went right in without knocking. Now. Then. How could anybody work? We pushed in, close as made sense to. Nobody went at Sod that way, ever. We watched and we listened Every time but that last, it was quiet. Every time but that last Lawrence came out red in the face, arm swinging, calling out, I told him good. This time he better listen—but—God damn you all! I told him good! I did.

We stood in a semicircle looking at Lawrence and as we started to break up and return to the field we carried Lawrence along like waving—one waves a flag to defend when on certain kinds of marches, marched out, and along, in the course of a life. Lawrence shone as a flag we began to look up, a flag to look up to we began to look up to, hic—sorry—he waved along ‘bove us carried long us it did seem and he’d say, starting loud, then sinking with each word being careful not to sink too quick, and therefore go silent, before his really going silent. No good to hit that last point home on some kind of a day late, ‘n a dotard short, so as that no one hears it he was yes really something.

He went.

That’s what you all ought to do. The man’s just a man! Not a God or a devil! Just a man! You and those before you have taught him he’s flawless and his sod’s a God-gift to unfortunates of all lifestyles, he’s not God he’s not God God no not God no not God not a God or the or the only God, heckwise; but what? Judge?

You are getting carried away, too away, crooned the laplandishly freakishly outrestyling robed-up man, set ‘hind a Sears desk, bought back down oh-two, by the first furry men seeming back then just small childish.


Say what happened. Not what you thought of what happened.

Okay—Lawrence came out and told us to model ourselves after him as a God ehh.

Say what happened. Not what he said or what you or what anyone there said if it. Just what happened. Bang ‘ang ban’ ‘an’ ‘g-bangidy-bangpow, like that! Just what happened!

What was said is an integral part of what happened.




Yes! As Lawrence told us, we beamed back awe, admiration, and envy, empowering him to set that same example time and time and more and again, without which he may have not done it over and over until the final time over that he got shotgunned down dead!