Ooks by AE Reiff

EThree Ooks lived in DutiBilly. Turk was the papa, Dama was the mama, and Sue Ook baby looked like her dad. Each Ook ate a sausage quietly, excluding the belch. Ook means passionate desire.
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An overwhelming depression. I thought I would be riding high on this ripe Florida sunshine forever, but as ever did the clouds hit me; the heat, drag me down eventually. I sit out in the sunlight, reclined and drinking the bleach of all bleach, hoping the poison soaks all my cells and I die slow and painfully.

Work hard
And you'll be on the board too--

That's in the event
Of your unsmearable record

That you haven't broke bonds
Repeated on loudspeakers

Or cried into the night like a fool--
Certainly your pajamas have not walked off on their own

You have not risen up like a foul animal
In some stage of revolt

And claimed the unclaimable chair
The chair that does not exist in the hall

Wide-horizoned tower.
Haemal fountain’s gargoyles
Slurping by convolvulus.
Suntrapped at velvet curtains,
Sabrina Roper squirms brainsick.
One rootless leaf in backwash.

For years I’ve been what society calls a “tree hugger”: a regular EPA local meeting attendee, a recycle-crazed neighbor, and I’ve given out seeds for kids to plant on Halloween for the last six years. My name is Tony Arbor and, needless to say I’m not everyone’s favorite guy on the block. Last year though, when the trees were being gnawed on, causing them to break, fall, and crush cars along I-17, the Holly Ridge community turned to me to find a solution. But the culprit sat right here in my living room: she’s my sexy, blonde, curly-haired wife, who's sipping coffee and reading the funnies. She's also a vampire.