Another Sunday Morning...

... and another quartet of CCS students and their abundant weirdness & wonders:

(Part the Second of a Series)

BEWARE!

That which looks like it must be touched,
but should never ever be touched,
unless you want your finger
(nay, your entire arm! Your shoulder!
Your head!)
to sink deeper than expected
into the sticky
tar-baby-like

Insidious Interior Chambers of Chuck Forsman!

HOWL!

...at the Technicolor Yawn
spraying like a
ravaging geyser
from uncanny
& unknowable cavities,
spilling like a phlegm flume
of spendiforous colors
spiced with
giggly girl-sounds
awash with
vast vomitoriums
of glee and glamor,
splashing
every
orifice
of your being
with God-Awful gorgasms
of horrific hash-flashing
dry heaves
and gag-flexing
gorgeousities
of gooberous glowworms,
steaming-hot
and ready to serve as
fresh-spewn magma
flows from

The Ralphadelic Realms of Radical Chris Warren!

SCREAM!

...as your nerve endings feel the probing talons of,
your vertebrae crack and splinter
as your spinal fluid is displaced by,
your optic nerves are entangled with,
your marrow is supplanted
and your gums are unexpectedly massaged by
(even as your remaining tooth enamel is dissolved away by)

The Stupefying Subepidermal-Invasive Tentacled Extremities of Ross Wood Studlar (He Who Is Pictured But Unjustly Unnamed In Vermont Life This Month!)

SHRIEK!

...at that fruit of two loins,
that spill of paired cranial rubbings,
the abundance which only
collaborative coupling of brain cells can yield,

The Cerebal Spawn of David Giarratana (and James D'Amato, who is not of the CCS persuasion)!

Updated "Ebery Satuhdei, waka waka," so Dave sez.
Sorry, couldn't excerpt a panel, you get the whole digdanged page:

Have a great Sunday --
more posts later today,
as & if time permits.




Note: No rabbits.