Bastet…Cat Goddess is alive and well. Street art

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Artist:  Philth (Thanks to theartblogger 54)

The Halloween celebration always ends the same way…the chicklets don’t celebrate thanksgiving because it’s a killing field.

Over 300 MILLION turkeys are killed in the United States every year…45 MILLION are eaten on Thanksgiving Day.  The chicklets are so unhappy, that’s why they go directly from Halloween to Christmas.  They can’t stand the pain and suffering of all the beautiful birds.  I can’t stand it either.  Our hearts are broken.

A Halloween warning…

the night’s still young
so don’t be fooled
beware of ghosts
beware of ghouls
the vamps and were’s
are also scary
so hurry up
don’t lag
or tarry
watch out for mummy’s
zombies too
they’d like to take
a bite of you
and should you fall
to fang or claw
you never
want to be a thrall
so maybe
staying in is best
don’t go out
with all the rest
and if you hear
a tap-tap-tapping
just yell real loud
GO AWAY
I’M NAPPING

The Chicklet Halloween Party continues…

Hello,  I’m Angel Pumpkin, and I’m so happy to be back for this short program.  To start off the show, please welcome the Tumbling Chicklets and their spotter.

That flip was wonderful, wasn’t it.  Give them a lot of chirps and wing flaps.  Now Brian would like to show you his costume.

I’m sorry.  I should have said, Brian and his friend Stanley.

There was a tribute to the warming bunnies earlier today.  They are busy keeping new chicklets warm and working in the hospital, where a few piglets and hens are still recovering from the last raid on a Factory Farm.  I don’t know what we would do without the Warming Bunnies.  We owe them so much.

Cerise, a member of the I WISH I WAS A MERMAID, organization just wanted to wave her tail at everyone, so let’s here it for Cerise.

And now…

…one more vampire.  Count Fangula would like you to know that he’s a nice vampire and that he made his fangs himself, so you don’t have to be afraid of him.

Next…a representative of the BAN GUNS Committee would like you to know that there is no good news.  None at all.  Not even a little.

That concludes this portion of the live entertainment. Please go to the game area and don’t forget the treat tables.  Harry Potter movies will begin at 9:30 in the Pajama Party Barn.  Snacks will be served and I must say that the owls are quite excited about the films. Always remember…life is about having fun.

Thank you.  This is Angel Pumpkin signing off

A story about the strangeness of life…

“I did not say that I got here riding on a unicorn,” she said, quickly.

“Yes, you did,” he said, nodding.  “When I asked how you got here, you said you got here riding on a unicorn.”

“You’re mistaken..”

“I’m not.”

“Maybe my car’s name is Unicorn.”

“You don’t have a car.”

“Maybe I just got one.”

He stared at her and folded his arms over his chest.

“What?” she asked, holding her hands out in an, I don’t know what you want me to say, position.  “Unicorns don’t exist.  Right?”

“You drive me crazy.”

“I know,” she said.

“Why?”

“Why do I drive you crazy, or why are you crazy?”

“You never answer my questions.”

“I mostly don’t know what your questions are, or how to answer them, even if I do know what you’re asking.”

“That’s because you never tell me the truth.”

“I ALWAYS tell you the truth,” she said, glaring at him.

“Or some doctored version of it, you mean?”

“Maybe our time together is over.  Maybe we should see other people.”

“I can see other people from here.  There’s a bunch of people getting on the bus.”

“Heavy sigh.”

“Did you just say, heavy sigh?  You’re supposed to sigh heavily, not say it,  Look, let’s keep it simple.  Just a plain yes or no answer,” he said, holding up his hands.  “Did you ride on a unicorn this evening?”

“What time is evening?”

“Six,” he said, grinding his teeth.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?  You don’t know if you rode on a unicorn?  How could you forget whether or not you rode on a unicorn?”

She shrugged.  “What difference does it make how I got here?”

“How you got here isn’t the point.  The unicorn is the point.  They aren’t supposed to exist, so if you rode on one, that’s…”

“That’s what?”

“Incredible.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Okay, so I got here on my unicorn.”

“Wait!  You have your own personal unicorn?”

“My family raises them.”

He started hyperventilating, and she began to dig through her backpack, looking for a paper bag. “Honestly,” she muttered.  “You have more problems than a math book.”

He sat down on the curb.

She handed him a tiny bag that was filled with gum.  “It’s all I have.”

She thought he was laughing, as he laid back on the sidewalk.

“Are you ok?  Should I call 911?”

He waved at her and smiled.  “I’m…f…in…e,” he wheezed.

“You aren’t very tough.  If the idea of a unicorn can flatten you, you’d only last about five minutes where I come from.  You’re such a baby.”

“Am…n..ot.”

“Are too,” she squealed, as he tried to grab her arm.

“I thought you li…ve…d around her..e,” he said.

“I do.  Sort of.”

“Just not all t…he time, right?”

“I walk between planes of existence, if you must know.”

“How?”

“Whadda ya mean, how?  I just do it.”

“Of course you do.”

“We don’t really go together very well.”  She looked down.  “You probably can’t even fight.”

“I can fight,” he said, staring at the moon through the branches of the trees. “Trust me.”

“I don’t think so.

“Can I see the unicorn?”

She whispered, and the unicorn appeared, snorting and pawing at the street.  He bent down and nuzzled her neck and face.  She kissed him and ran her hands down his neck.

“He’s huge.”

The unicorn eyed him threateningly.

“He doesn’t like me.”

“He doesn’t like anyone from around here.  But look,” she said, softly.  “It’s been a lot of fun.  And I know this isn’t fair,” she continued, blowing a bit of dust his way, “but you won’t remember me at all.”  Then she and her unicorn disappeared.

***

“Hey,” said the cop, kicking him on the shoulder.  “You can’t just lay on the sidewalk like that.”

“Why not?” he asked, looking around.  “Wait.  Why am I on the sidewalk?”

“Have too much to drink?  Are you hurt?  Did someone dump you here?  Were you mugged?” asked the cop, suddenly uneasy.

“I don’t know.  I don’t know how I got here.”

“Look, if you can walk, and you live around here, just go home and sleep it off.  That’s my advice.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he said, getting to his feet.  “I think I’ll do that.”

“Good man,” said the cop, watching him slowly cross the street, thinking of all the paperwork he just avoided.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Resa wrote a poem for the chicklets. Dawn is going to read it to you. She’s on her way to the next show, but was kind enough to stop and help out. Thank you Resa.

Hold Your Beaks High

Hold your beaks high

Chicklets do good things

Hold your beaks high

You’ve earned your wings

Even if you can’t fly.

If you have paws

Or hooves,

Or curly tails

Or hop ’til you droop,

Are a loving animal

Of any kind in the world

You will find joy

At the COOP!

A Witchy Halloween Poem

twas the night before Samhain
and all through the house
every creature was stirring
especially the mouse
the pumpkins were carved
in the kitchen with care
in hopes that the Witches
would soon gather there
the wimmin were working
adjusting their hats
adorning their brooms
with brown bats
and black cats
when out on the lawn
there arose such a clatter
the wimmin sprang forward
to see what was the matter
there on the stoop stood
all shiny and new
Eyeore and Piglet and Winnie the Pooh
there was Dorothy from Oz
and two boys wearing bras
a cowboy
a dancer
and a reindeer named Prancer
the Witches all chuckled
and felt such great bliss
handed out candy
and to each
gave a kiss
Be careful
they warned
on this night of all nights
Beware of the goblins
and ghosts taking flight
as the children were leaving
they slammed the door hard
pushing and shoving
they ran for the yard
once on their brooms
they took off for the sky
climbing and soaring
to reach a new high
they smiled at each other
with love in their hearts
knowing a new year
was ready to start

Chicklet Buttercup is dressed up as a biker, in honor of Holly. Buttercup would love to have red feathers and a motorcycle. She has a scooter, so that will have to do for now. And yes, they used to call motorcycles scooters, but it’s not the same thing now, a least that’s what she said..

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The Graveyard Apartment – Georgiann Carlson — Brave & Reckless

“Oh, it’s a lovely apartment. You’ll see. It’s just down these stairs,” said the sales woman, peering over the railing. “It looks dark,” said the man. “A bit, but then, the rent is very cheap.” “Yes, but are there windows?” “I don’t think so, I mean it is a garden apartment, after all. But it […]

The Graveyard Apartment – Georgiann Carlson — Brave & Reckless

A girl and her cat…a very short conversation.

“There are a lot of stars up there,” she said.
“Those are suns,” said the cat.
“Either way, there are a lot of them.”
“Yes.  There are a lot of them,” agreed the cat.