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Deviant for 8 Years
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Numbknot by pereubuisjesus Numbknot :iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus 0 0 Floating Monkey Head by pereubuisjesus Floating Monkey Head :iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus 0 13
Literature
Aqua Squirrels: The Story of Bohemia
Once upon a time, there were too many squirrels sitting on the log.  They jostled each other.  Quite a few fell off into the ocean.
These flotsam-squirrels became Aqua squirrels.  
They grew fins and gills.  They created a world exactly like the world on the log, minus the log.  
To do this, the aqua squirrels put black socks over their heads and created a reconceptualization of the ocean as a log-sized thing in their imaginations.
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Literature
Jump With Me, Said The Cat
Jump with me said the cat.  I don’t want to said the mouse.  The cat pushed the mouse’s buttons so the mouse didn’t want to do what the cat said.  The cat laughed.  The laugh was laughed in a way that seemed like the cat didn’t care at all.  Though the mouse knew it did care.  The cat wanted all of the silence out of the house.  The silence would not move, just as the mouse would not jump.  The silence sat in large dark pools, rippling.  The rippling was very light, though the dark was very heavy.  “Heavy” thought the mouse, then, for no reason it could think of.   “Heavy metal,” thought the cat.  They were watching tv.  VH1.  They had a big tv.  Heavy metal, or, more accurately, hair metal was pounding on the screen.  The cat chewed its hair.  The cat chewed its hair.  The cat chewed its hair and the mouse became more withdrawn.  Heavy dark poo
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:iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus 0 1
Literature
And That's For Chris-Chan
A High School senior named Kyle had a great idea for a short-film.  His idea was about a retarded boy who happens upon a group of high school girls on their way to volleyball practice.  The girls regard the retarded boy with a mixture of condescending sympathy and open mockery.  When the girls leave the retarded boy and enter the gym, he gets beaten up by two people for no reason.  Then he wakes up and says “Thank you very much,” to the camera in an Elvis voice.
Originally, Kyle wanted to do an art film made up of random fleeting moments shot with a variety of characters at various locations all around the school.  But the teacher said that the short films had to be about high school students and that they had to use certain lines like “what would Elvis do” and do other creativity-instigating things.
Kyle, his hopes not the least bit dampened by the new constraints, banged out a 4 page script as soon as he got home.  He thought his
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:iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus 0 1
Literature
Young
you are so young, self
like high functioning autistic people
except without autism
the age equivalent to your emotional development
is probably
5
even though you have had sex
and paying jobs
and taken ecstasy and mushrooms
and college courses
and are 6 feet tall, hairy, and 200 lbs.
you went through all
of the poems and fiction on this website
and felt frustrated
then you found an online absurdist magazine
and felt frustrated
and then you went to a flash-fiction blog
and felt frustrated
and then you went to this one site
made by this lady
for educational purposes
a site containing
stories for children of
all ages
you went to stories
for children
under the age of 6
and finally
you read one
that rang true
about this girl
who feeds her kitty
too much kitty food
so that the kitty
cannot get the mouse
when it scares the girl
and her mother
the father gets P.O.ed
and the girl promises
to make sure
not to feed the kitty too much again
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:iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus 2 4
The Bus Stop by pereubuisjesus The Bus Stop :iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus 0 0
Literature
Toy
Jerry could not keep the skateboard rolling.  He felt guilty.  “It must be because my first time was on a tennis court,” he thought.  He sat on a bench under a tree across from the natural history museum, skateboard on lap, watching three black kids catch turtles in the pond.  They had tried to sell his Dad a turtle and his Dad had curtly refused.  “Curtly,” thought Jerry.  Jerry had learned the word “curtly” from J.K. Rowling.  She used the word “curtly” all the time in the Harry Potter books.
Jerry’s Dad was inside the museum with his brother now.  Jerry’s brother was bored because he did not have a skateboard.
One of the black kids approached Jerry.  Maybe he wants to be friends, thought Jerry.
“Hey, where’d you get that skateboard?”  said the black kid.  He had a scar across his cheek and light skin.  He was the youngest of the three.
Jerry did not know where the skateboard had come from.  It had been a C
:iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus
:iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus 0 1
Literature
Jerky
Nia, Robert, and Gerry were standing around the Host-stand.  Gerry had a crush on Nia. He tried not to pay attention to her, because paying too much attention to someone he had a crush on made him more nervous around them.  
Nia was peeling the skin off of her thumb.  She asked Robert if he wanted some Nia-jerky.  She meant her dead thumb-skin.  Robert smiled at her in a way that said:  that’s a clever joke and I find it funny but I would never, ever think you were being serious.
Then, Nia turned to Gerry.
“How about you?” she said “Want some Nia-jerky?”
Gerry said “um” and smiled, not knowing what to say.
Nia laughed.  “Ha! You’re thinking about it!  That’s great: you were actually thinking about it!”
Gerry blushed.  “No…” he said.  Customers walked up to the host-stand and Robert ripped their tickets.
Gerry was upset the next day and went to the thanksgiving chapel in Downtown Dallas to ask God to he
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:iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus 0 0
Literature
Ghost
Igor read Ghostworld on the train.  He giggled at something Enid said.  He looked up to see if anybody had reacted to his giggle.  No cigar.
Igor got off the train at Zambingo Community College.  He walked across the platform to 7-11.  The 7-11 cashier glared at Igor and Igor tried to appear extra-cheerful when he asked for two jalepeno cream cheese taquitos.  As he walked out of the 7-11, Igor accidentally let the door close on a man in a wheelchair.  "I'm a bad boy," thought Igor's inner child.  He finished both taquitos in 15 seconds.  "hot dog," said Igor.
Igor went to the library to read Ghostworld because he didn't want to talk to the autistic kid in his class.  He didn't like the autistic kid because his social awkwardness reminded Igor of himself.  Igor spent 15 minutes digesting 10 pages of Ghostworld and 3 chapters of Barry Gifford's "Sad Stories of the Death of Kings."  He looked up now and again at the people filing through the library.  "Not-Friend" said Igor's inner child
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:iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus 0 15
Cricketboy Goes To Work part 2 by pereubuisjesus Cricketboy Goes To Work part 2 :iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus 0 3 Cricketboy Goes To Work by pereubuisjesus Cricketboy Goes To Work :iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus 1 7
Literature
3 Ants Beat Up God
3 ants beat up god.  they kicked him in the head.  then they rolled him over and punched him in the butt.  god became incensed and took out his anger on the Ku Klux Klan, melting all of them in his stomach-lava.  god hated everything.  he made a hat that said "I hate everything" on it.  It was a 1950s sailor-hat and it made him look puerile.  people saw his puerile hat and thought "arrested development," and raised their eyebrows.
god did something mean to an animal.  the animal cried.
god did something mean to a fish.  the fish cried.
god did something mean to god.  god cried.
the ants beat up god again and again in god's memory.  he felt vulnerable and lashed out defensively.  "don't treat me like a fucking animal!!!" said god to the wall.
:iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus
:iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus 1 1
Meet Cricketboy! by pereubuisjesus Meet Cricketboy! :iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus 1 2
Literature
Girls Laughing Genuinely
“Compositions are integrated within,” said the woman’s voice, “gen-up to electric-dog status.  Your ears prick up.  They pat you on the back and then kick you around like homogenized milk.”  Then came the drum machine in 4/4 time.
Bobby lay on the floor next to the boombox, listening.  He always liked the spoken-word introduction to The Fall song “C.R.E.E.P.”  He did not understand what the woman was saying.  He liked it because it seemed negative and incomprehensible, just like him.  Bobby stared into space and imagined girls laughing genuinely at a joke he had made.  Bobby was 15 years old and weighed 270 pounds and lived in America and was a type 4 on the Enneagram and masturbated every day.  He was told by his mother that he possessed wisdom though he had no wisdom and never would until he died at the age of 94.  At this point in his life he bought lots of CDs and loved buying CDs more than anything else.  This would be his obsession for tw
:iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus
:iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus 1 3
Literature
Pitch Black, Freezing Cold Mobius Strip
Three bugs jumped on a fat bear’s belly.  They jumped up and down, up and down, up and down.  The fat bear lay on its back, dreaming.
As the bugs jumped, reality became tinier and tinier.  Eventually, reality became so tiny that it pinched the bugs’ bottoms and they floated, immobile, their bottoms stuck in reality’s pinch.  When their bottoms got pinched, the bugs flexed their jumping muscles for days and then they stopped.  They stayed still for a long time.
“I’m just not a good person,” said one bug to the others one day.  “I’m just fundamentally disposed to being the selfish, over-emotional person I am.  And I have to accept it.”
The other two bugs said nothing in response.  They stared at tiny reality because there was nothing else to stare at.
The bear, squeezed and mutilated by tiny reality beyond recognition, continued to dream.  And the dream it dreamed was the sum of all real-life experience.  
The bear dreamed this dream
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:iconpereubuisjesus:pereubuisjesus 1 15
"No publication
No money
No star
No fuck
--------------------------
a friend came over to the house
a few days ago and read one of my poems.
he came back today and asked to read the
same poem over again. after he finished
reading it, he said, 'It makes me want
to write poetry.'"

richard brautigan's Hey! This Is What It's All About

Favourites

Journal
Awaited answers to last month's fan questions
I'm a fucking piece of SHIT MY DICK goss
Anyway, all things aside, I think  And.  we're learning and seeing it how it might go,   I think there are multiple raisin "(detras)" for.  Tyhis is not we9rd and anyway just to shock you, to speak clearly for a moment, I don't want to mislead you.  As much are your dumb little psyche filters out anything good or miore importantly truthful in this massage. nPlease try n whether you like it or not, please wrap your empty, Tim-Burton-Loving Mind, and those smooth fucking JUICY naked legs around what I
'm trying to get around here.  Most of this is actuallt accidental.
Don't overthink it...don't underthink it either, you dumb fucking pleb, you know who you are.  No irony intended as you actually have no self-wareness or introspection.  If you fit the bill, then put it on and QUACK, DAFFY WACKO!  But please keep it to ~*U*~R self as a duck's quack does not echo (this is actually a fucking myth propagated
:iconNOTgay23:NOTgay23
:iconnotgay23:NOTgay23 1 0
Literature
inside the offset
I began this
to see the
offset if possible
how far I could take it
overwhelming far-ending predicaments
predominantly predicting predilections
fueled on feeling flayed from
self by stress stratifying personable
attributes like lovingkindness to leadership
to loneliness and all becomes an anyways tipped off
at the end of the tongue to forget
something substantial is happening
it’s hard to see now through the haze of hard
leaning into hard weather this storm a purple heather
hue held off at a hand’s breadth wanting to consume,
and on in, and contain and compartmentalize into half
a human whole into loss of memory more so current than past
pulling pecks of hearts to swell at the trenches of sternum inflated
and crushed, to remember the wholeness once held holy and hungry before
to hold and have another half when one part past and other part
skipped a solid step past present so a sudden time comes to see
the self not present at present or present to self at all so gone complete
:iconGhrey:Ghrey
:iconghrey:Ghrey 11 5
Literature
Birthday.
I would have killed myself yesterday, if it hadn't been your birthday.
I would have sailed into the selfish place where pain overrides my need to survive
I would have sunk below the waves without a single cry
I would've gone out in silence and dampness
one last breath, choking then nothing at all.
I would have killed myself yesterday, if it hadn't been your birthday.
but I couldn't
not on your birthday
no one needs a gift of pain
I'm sorry you love me so much
I am not good to you
I am not good to be around
I wish you could see what I am
I wish you could save yourself from me
I wish you weren't such a good person
I would've killed myself yesterday, if it hadn't been your birthday.
:iconyellowpoppyseeds:yellowpoppyseeds
:iconyellowpoppyseeds:yellowpoppyseeds 3 3
Literature
my big fat engagement
"Sweetheart, won't you drink your juice?"
The young man looked up at his fiancee and gave her a weak smile as he reached to grab the cup from the table. "Yeah, sorry. I'll drink it now."  
"Come on, smile a bit, please? Dad will think something is wrong!" She protested slightly with a slight pout. He glanced at her and leaned back in his seat, looking around the living room. They were alone, true, but he could clearly see her father through the open door. 
"How am I supposed to laugh tell me? We've been engaged for over six months now and each time I visit you we just sit like this and stare at each other. If we go out for dinner, your little brother tags along and if I dare to hold your hand right now, your father starts coughing. What does your fingers have to do with his cough?" He protested in an annoyed manner and stared at the clock on the wall, in hopes that the rhythmic ticking might sooth him a bit.
She folded her arms and huffed slightly. "Oh hush you. We'll be marr
:iconMythiril:Mythiril
:iconmythiril:Mythiril 14 17
Literature
The First Kiss
It wasn't even past eight when she ran into her room. She didn't bother and change her clothes as she simply slid under the covers. She cocooned  herself in her bed hurriedly, unable to hold back the smile that crept up her face. She knew that she had acquired a new set of dreams this evening. Dreams that will be haunting her for a very long time. 
She'd banished every other memory on her way home. This one dream was so majestic it seemed unfit to share anything with it. She feared a picture of her precious moment would seep through the smile she couldn't hide and someone would catch it and drag her back into the dull silent world. 
It was a kiss that lasted seconds, but in her head it was a cinematic that went on for hours. Her heart pounded so viciously to the point she thought the sound alone could fill the entire world around her. She recalled her kiss, a blush creeping on her cheeks. 
She closed her eyes tightly as she stirred in bed. Maybe her dream will go on
:iconMythiril:Mythiril
:iconmythiril:Mythiril 349 262
Spooning 101 by PANS0L0 Spooning 101 :iconpans0l0:PANS0L0 535 34
Literature
*homebase*
It had been forever
and a day
since we talked
And it was no surprise
when I realized
WE
still want the
samething
have the same feeling
like osmosis
or fate
That terrifying
inevitable
thing
are we to be tortured
unanswered
forever questioning
I would rather run into you
*literally*
crash into your face, body, lips
stumble a little
figure out where
*homebase* is
(North? South? Somewhere in the middle?)
I know it is in you somewhere
an anchor
nomad with a home
Meet me there
:iconJanes-Doe:Janes-Doe
:iconjanes-doe:Janes-Doe 1 0
Attack of the Killer Straw Bales by druidoaks Attack of the Killer Straw Bales :icondruidoaks:druidoaks 1 0
Literature
Little Bird
My starling, my mockingbird,
Come to me with your hunger, your questions, your open heart.
There is a silver box in the middle of the universe,
And the little red flag is calling your name.
Come perch.
My cardinal, my chickadee
Your smile is one that makes the sun come out
And your heart creates wonderful things.
You are a part of this vast, wonderful, terrifying world,
No bigger, but no smaller than the rest of us.
Be your own northern star; no one else can lead you home.
My canary, my bluebird,
May you be just as beautiful in flight
As you are when you sing.
:iconIndigoSkyes:IndigoSkyes
:iconindigoskyes:IndigoSkyes 13 7
Literature
Batman Versus Cro-Magnon
Batman found himself amidst seahorses. The sea water was nothing like his raspberry cry. It seemed that Batman had finally grown out of his cayenne pepper fetish and suffered an acute brain infarction. Green Lantern made him a sausage. It was housed in an onion church, rife with some salsa looking thing. But it looked far nastier than your average salsa; it had a seam that converged with a lost 2pac Shakur tune. It felt so painstakingly obvious that Batman had to yield to his superiors again, as unsettling as it was. Green Lantern said it was just shovelware and daintily moved towards the toilet, only to lock himself up there, never to return. Batman felt like he died. He danced in the blizzard canyon, touched by the troubadour's brain-meltingly empty tunes. Hollowed, Batman bit the sausage, more than he could chewbacca, and a fart promised to loot his soul. He eclipsed into onany and cried for apricorns. Those apricorns that could be made into pokéballs.
Batman flew in his lowest
:iconDunez:Dunez
:icondunez:Dunez 3 0
Literature
good morning, lover
you return
a dusty bedouin
wandering the firebreak in the immensurable void
to bring me this news:
monism is a blossom on saguaro!
:iconspoems:spoems
:iconspoems:spoems 22 32
Mature content
pareidolia :iconspoems:spoems 19 10
Literature
Excerpt
The true underline, however, is always that I'm disordered, diseased, ill, wrong, tormented, or crazy. I'm some psychotic fantasy character who is having to learn how to blend into real-world society… and failing quite terribly. I'm the culmination of every bad gene in the family, condensing into what others know to be me. I may look human, but I'm really a Petri dish of petulant pestilence, or so I might say from time to time. I'm a refined embodiment of chaos, somehow contained in this little body, in this little mind, always struggling to get out and show itself to the world. I am the antithesis to myself, contradictory and paradoxical, lethargic and energetic, full of ideas and absent-minded, optimistic and pessimistic, realistic and irrational, smart and dumb, dark and bright… I have a mind of madness descended from Janus himself, the god of two faces, of doors and transition, of opposites and borders.
:iconevryrosehasitsthorns:evryrosehasitsthorns
:iconevryrosehasitsthorns:evryrosehasitsthorns 2 0
Literature
Really Living
What I am I to be?
Something wild and free.
Do you seem to know how?
Such beauty in the crowd.
Throwing peace symbols everywhere.
Drifting into colors all the way.
Who am I to stay? Who am I to stay?
Who am I to stay? Who am I to stay right now?
Shaving my legs on the bed,
Watching out for the bruises in my head,
Over the river through the woods,
I am not sure that I’m up to no good.
Air in my lungs I am alive.
So sick of holding onto my strife.
I can survive as I’ve done before.
25 and a million more.
Filled with hope
I don’t know why.
No money in the bank
But you can operate an Army tank.
Aching my knees,
Feel my bones
Want to collect the perfect host.
Darling I hate thee,
Darling I love you anyway.
Bristle and Whiskey,
Brussels sprouts and Squash,
What a wonderful world that grows these things,
It’s over now.
If there’s a sequel I’d like to see,
But only one involving Johnny and Baby.
Happy Birthday.
Everything is going to be okay.
Sing away.
Drea
:iconBloodEcstasy:BloodEcstasy
:iconbloodecstasy:BloodEcstasy 1 0
Literature
Write
I write to live.
Only part of my soul that I’m willing to give,
In the pain,
Stuck in my brain.
Sometimes I lose my train of thought.
No idea where to start.
Still today.
I just don’t know,
Have to find another place to go.
Simple simple,
Filled with shame.
Play the game,
Become proud again.
This is getting silly now.
Somehow.
I’m hungry and thirsty.
Burning for mercy.
If I’m not sure what to do,
I will write because that’s all I ever knew.
:iconBloodEcstasy:BloodEcstasy
:iconbloodecstasy:BloodEcstasy 2 2
My favorites. I fave whatever catches my eye.

Activity


Once upon a time there were two hands:  the hand of hate and the hand of love.  They fought each other for no reason.  God cried.  The hand of hate ate the hand of love and digested it in its wrist.  The human that the hands were part of said "ow! ow! ow!" and went to the hospital.  In hospital, the human held a book with the hand of hate.  The hand of hate was slack with food-coma but the human was still able to hold things.  "I can never love anyone!  I'll never find anyone to love me now that I only have one hand!  What's more, the hand I have left is the less desirable hand, the hand of hate!" said the human later that night, crying in the fetal position.  The hand of hate acquired a Little Caesar's franchise.  The hand of hate was interviewed in the book Fast Food Nation.  The hand of hate was portrayed sympathetically, while Little Caesar's cuisine was not.  However, God sensed Fast Food Nation's book-waves with His/Her ESP.  One night, when the hand of hate was closing, He/She beamed it up to His/Her Godship.  Before an intergalactic tribunal, the hand of hate was sentenced to life in the land of Nod.  "Hooray!" said the hand of hate, "I don't have to live in reality!"  The human had no hands and was outfitted with robot-claws.  He suffered, discovered meaning, and hooray for him. 

It was Sam's turn.  She looked at Harry.  "Was this supposed to be funny?" she asked, referring to Harry's short story about two anthropomorphized missiles.  "Yes," said Harry.  "Well, it wasn't funny."  Harry laughed.  Harry stayed in his imagination most of the time and didn't care what Sam said.  He didn't care if she laughed or not.  His brain was a funny movie watching itself and he found the story funny and he believed he was more intelligent than Sam.  Liz said some things.  Sky said some things.  Sam felt paranoid feelings about her being the only person in the workshop who didn't like Harry's story.  She believed strongly in her own opinion, but also felt slightly insecure.  She didn't know why she was majoring in creative writing.  She thought everything she read in class was boring.  She stared at the whiteboard and thought about the good things she imagined people would say the next week when they read the first two chapters of her zombie apocalypse novel.  Her grammar was better than Harry's.  The smart guy in the class, Joel, mentioned something about a cave and Plato and Harry said yes, that was what he was trying to do.   

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pereubuisjesus

Artist | Professional | Other
United States
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:iconkristy-kiri22:
Kristy-Kiri22 Featured By Owner Sep 27, 2014  Student Traditional Artist
Happy Birthday!
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:iconkristy-kiri22:
Kristy-Kiri22 Featured By Owner Sep 27, 2013  Student Traditional Artist
Happy Birthday friend! :party: :party: 
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:iconv-espertine:
v-espertine Featured By Owner Sep 27, 2013
happy birthday you there <3
Reply
:iconspoems:
spoems Featured By Owner Aug 5, 2013   Writer
thanks!
Reply
:iconpereubuisjesus:
pereubuisjesus Featured By Owner Aug 8, 2013  Professional Artist
:D
Reply
:iconevryrosehasitsthorns:
evryrosehasitsthorns Featured By Owner Aug 5, 2013  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the favorite. =] I always get a little thrown off when someone goes through my older work as I usually forget about it until someone else resurfaces it.
Reply
:iconpereubuisjesus:
pereubuisjesus Featured By Owner Aug 5, 2013  Professional Artist
No problem!  :)
Reply
:iconmythiril:
Mythiril Featured By Owner Aug 5, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you kindly for the favs i'm glad you've found my work worth your time :iconeeeeeplz:
Reply
:iconpereubuisjesus:
pereubuisjesus Featured By Owner Aug 6, 2013  Professional Artist
Yeah...I like your style.  Kept thinking of Raymond Carver...
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:iconmythiril:
Mythiril Featured By Owner Aug 7, 2013  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you  i'm honored to hear that :huggle:
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