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October 5, 2006

10.05.06

What's the story here? [click for bigger]

A painting by Robert Dowling. More of his work can be found here.

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Stacy: You Were Saying?

"Come away..." the balloon cried, its whisper voice blending with the soughing wind.

"I have to stay here," said Teddy. "My boy needs me."

"You will be forgotten..." whispered the balloon.

The shadows deepened as the sun sank lower in the sky, and Teddy shivered. To be abandoned, forgotten? He could dream of no worse fate.

“I’m staying here,” he shouted at the dwindling balloon. “For as long as I’m wanted!” Balloon laughter floated back to him.

“You’re doomed… Doomed to rot alone, doo-…” The balloon popped suddenly as the altitude overcame it.

Below on the hill, Teddy laughed delightedly.

Read more from Stacy's .

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Jim: Eternity

The third level of Hell is reserved for the gluttonous. Dante described it as a place of eternal storms, accursed, heavy and cold.

Pooh, being a bear of very little brain, had no idea why he was there. What he did know, however, was that there was a hunny tree in the valley below.

“Oh, fluff and stuff,” he said. “How ever shall I get some hunny?”

A plan slowly took form. “Why not?” he asked himself.

First he had to catch the balloon. And then maybe he could talk a demon into saying, “Tsk. Tsk. It looks like rain.”

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David: Left Behind

Pooh drifted over the Hundred Acre Wood, hanging from the balloon string. Christopher Robin had not visited for weeks, and Piglet had become worried. So they set off to find him, Kanga bounding to the south, Tigger sproinging to the east, Rabbit hopping north, and Pooh carried west, aloft again, and more frightened than ever.

The sky was stormy as Pooh reached the border of the Hundred Acre Wood. Shocked, Pooh let go the balloon and fell to the ground. He stared uncomprehendingly at the barren wasteland, scoured of all evidence of life by nuclear fire.

“Oh, bother,” said Pooh.

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Ted: i think i'm impotent

"Tell me about your dream, Oscar."

"It starts off with me fucking my neighbor while her husband watches."

"Are you a swinger? Attracted to her perhaps?"

"No. I think she represents some kind of threat, only I'm embracing the fear instead of running."

"Very good, Oscar. What next?"

"Suddenly, the husband pulls out a magic wand and zaps me. I think that represents fear of having a small cock."

"Go on."

"Then I wake up, in the dream, as a toy bear on a hill. My virility floating away as a balloon."

"Oscar, you’re right. You're also a pussy boy."

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