How Many Syllables in Baby Demon Mammon?
Can you count up to six? The correct answer is six. So perhaps the only actual good to come from Baby Demon Mammon is, his name. Quite so. Baby Demon Mammon's name may be employed as a mantra. Yepper. Baby Demon Mammon has that much in common with Naja Bullah Zazi, Obi Wan Kenobi and Zuben El Genubi.
Boy howdy! During these hard times with the Vitamin D shortage escalating like a crazy escalator raring up into the high heavens, and even a Druid Holy Man like Crumby mixing metaphors, a feller can easily need or require more than one mantra. So here we have four potential mantras, courtesy of the Crumby Ovate.
However, honestly, Baby Demon Mammon may not be a mantra that you want to recite out loud in public places. You may wish to keep Baby Demon Mammon as your secret mantra.
That’s right. Last night Crumby went to a feast. At the feast Crumby stuffed himself much like the butcher stuffs a sausage. So Crumby thought to himself, Man Alive! I should not have eaten all that. Now I need to do some exercise to burn off all those extra calories. But first I better rest up in the orgone box awhile.
Yet even the orgone box could not put Crumby totally to rest. No. Crumby meditated fitfully, if at all, as he slept. Plus, Crumby dreamed. Yes. There was the Baby Demon Mammon in Crumby’s dream. Crumby, explained the Baby Demon Mammon, you should have eaten up another piece of pecan pie. Also, did you see that some pie was left over? Why didn’t you bring one of those left over pies home? I, Baby Demon Mammon, feel like you could have done a lot better at the feast than you did, Crumby.
But Crumby spelled against the Baby Demon. Nay, Baby Demon Mammon, I ate plenty. Too much in fact. Before my nap I had to take Alka Seltzer, always an indication of over indulgence. Also, I shall barely be fixing to waddle along out into the terrible wilderness any minute. What if a predator attacks me while I am so full? What then, Baby Demon Mammon? What then?
It’s true. The Baby Demon is no true friend of the Druids. He is constantly fixing to trick an average Druid like Crumby into overeating or drinking too much whiskey or gulping down huge volumes of delicious ale. And those are just for examples of the many tricks the Baby Demon may play on an average Druid similar to Crumby.
Go on Baby Demon. Go on, unless you figure to join me out in the freezing cold of the stygian darkness. Yes Baby Demon, I am headed out into the freezing cold wilderness for a little aerobic exercise. Not your melieu, is it Baby Demon! Ha!
Crumby was exaggerating slightly. Looking at the naked celestial wonders through a telescope may not be considered aerobic by many. Nevertheless, the Baby Demon is such and such a lazy and easy little cuss that the mere notion of cold combined with aerobics scared him off. So then Crumby was actually free to go off into the frigid wilderness accompanied only by a small dog and a medium sized cat. But soon Crumby had to make his little pets go back in because it was freezing cold outside.
Jeez Louise! It’s colder than a Wiccan’s twain tittys out here, Crumby cried out. There’s ice on everything. But only the naked wonders of outer space heard Crumby, or, if anyone else heard him, they didn’t let on. Yet Crumby also heard, or figured he heard, various noises and maybe voices crying out in the frigid, stygian or neo-stygian darkness.
Evil doers are fixing to get me, Crumby concluded from the scant evidence, noises and voices.
Yet Crumby can be fairly round chested. Besides, Crumby had a hand pick and a hand gun, handy, on location. Do your worst, evil doers. Come on. Come ahead on, Crumby thought to himself. That’s right. Though Crumby was fairly well accoutered, he did not wish to actually provoke the many evil doers lurking in the back yard. No, Crumby surmised, I’ll be peaceable if they will.
To sum it all up, early this morning was a wonderful night to espy M81 and M82, the latter impossibly elongate in the polluted skies of Austink.
Eventually, one, even a Druid like Crumby, must arise and face Ogma. To honor Ogma, Crumby put out a rotten mango for the vermin. This action also honors Her, the WG, so everyone is a winner, except maybe the Baby Demon. Yet only the meanest and most ornery of all the bugs, except for flies, like mangos at this time in these parts. Mercy!
Boy howdy! During these hard times with the Vitamin D shortage escalating like a crazy escalator raring up into the high heavens, and even a Druid Holy Man like Crumby mixing metaphors, a feller can easily need or require more than one mantra. So here we have four potential mantras, courtesy of the Crumby Ovate.
However, honestly, Baby Demon Mammon may not be a mantra that you want to recite out loud in public places. You may wish to keep Baby Demon Mammon as your secret mantra.
That’s right. Last night Crumby went to a feast. At the feast Crumby stuffed himself much like the butcher stuffs a sausage. So Crumby thought to himself, Man Alive! I should not have eaten all that. Now I need to do some exercise to burn off all those extra calories. But first I better rest up in the orgone box awhile.
Yet even the orgone box could not put Crumby totally to rest. No. Crumby meditated fitfully, if at all, as he slept. Plus, Crumby dreamed. Yes. There was the Baby Demon Mammon in Crumby’s dream. Crumby, explained the Baby Demon Mammon, you should have eaten up another piece of pecan pie. Also, did you see that some pie was left over? Why didn’t you bring one of those left over pies home? I, Baby Demon Mammon, feel like you could have done a lot better at the feast than you did, Crumby.
But Crumby spelled against the Baby Demon. Nay, Baby Demon Mammon, I ate plenty. Too much in fact. Before my nap I had to take Alka Seltzer, always an indication of over indulgence. Also, I shall barely be fixing to waddle along out into the terrible wilderness any minute. What if a predator attacks me while I am so full? What then, Baby Demon Mammon? What then?
It’s true. The Baby Demon is no true friend of the Druids. He is constantly fixing to trick an average Druid like Crumby into overeating or drinking too much whiskey or gulping down huge volumes of delicious ale. And those are just for examples of the many tricks the Baby Demon may play on an average Druid similar to Crumby.
Go on Baby Demon. Go on, unless you figure to join me out in the freezing cold of the stygian darkness. Yes Baby Demon, I am headed out into the freezing cold wilderness for a little aerobic exercise. Not your melieu, is it Baby Demon! Ha!
Crumby was exaggerating slightly. Looking at the naked celestial wonders through a telescope may not be considered aerobic by many. Nevertheless, the Baby Demon is such and such a lazy and easy little cuss that the mere notion of cold combined with aerobics scared him off. So then Crumby was actually free to go off into the frigid wilderness accompanied only by a small dog and a medium sized cat. But soon Crumby had to make his little pets go back in because it was freezing cold outside.
Jeez Louise! It’s colder than a Wiccan’s twain tittys out here, Crumby cried out. There’s ice on everything. But only the naked wonders of outer space heard Crumby, or, if anyone else heard him, they didn’t let on. Yet Crumby also heard, or figured he heard, various noises and maybe voices crying out in the frigid, stygian or neo-stygian darkness.
Evil doers are fixing to get me, Crumby concluded from the scant evidence, noises and voices.
Yet Crumby can be fairly round chested. Besides, Crumby had a hand pick and a hand gun, handy, on location. Do your worst, evil doers. Come on. Come ahead on, Crumby thought to himself. That’s right. Though Crumby was fairly well accoutered, he did not wish to actually provoke the many evil doers lurking in the back yard. No, Crumby surmised, I’ll be peaceable if they will.
To sum it all up, early this morning was a wonderful night to espy M81 and M82, the latter impossibly elongate in the polluted skies of Austink.
Eventually, one, even a Druid like Crumby, must arise and face Ogma. To honor Ogma, Crumby put out a rotten mango for the vermin. This action also honors Her, the WG, so everyone is a winner, except maybe the Baby Demon. Yet only the meanest and most ornery of all the bugs, except for flies, like mangos at this time in these parts. Mercy!
posted by ray pistrum at Sunday, December 20, 2009
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