BOOKS ABOUT LINCOLN'S DEVILED EGGS AND DEAD MICE IN THE HOUSE PANTS

DAVEY'S BOOKY
it was my idea first. when big brother died we wanted to do a coffee table book, but none of us have the time to do it and we'd never entrust it to anybody else, so the idea just kind of went away. then i thought maybe i should put out a collection of just my stuff. short stories, reviews, letter responses and shit from the mag. cliver was very encouraging about the idea. "there was some good stuff in there," he said, "but unfortunately a lot of it was probably lost on 13 year olds." i shopped it around half heartedly for a few minutes, there was some interest here and there, but it too just kind of went away. until now. a small publisher approached me about putting it out. so i am currently sifting through 14 years and 106 issues worth of big brother material. i hope to have it out this year at some point.

CHRISSIE'S BOOKY


then there's this guy. always copying me. had to have his own book out. fine. whatever. my new book about old stuff is going to be so much better. in the meantime, go to chrissie's website www.chrisnieratko.com to buy it. because if you don't buy his, you can't buy mine. and i'll pull over and give you a spanking, buster.

AHOY, ENGLANDS

if you ever go to ojai and you see an old lincoln driving around with deviled eggs on the dashboard, that's dave england


ray enjoys booing at bands and ruining photos of pretty ladies like joanna england and tania.


ray also enjoys stealing lady's coats and sunglasses. and anything else they got like beers or drugs or babies.


for breakfast ray and i enjoyed a true man's meal: leftover hot wings and deviled eggs. i farted hot fire all the way home. "I GOT HOT!"


and then the jehova witnesses came to the door. dave england shook a chicken wing at them for a little while, but he was no match for them. look at him, he's falling asleep standing up. ruby's pretending to read the label on her sippy cup even though there isn't one. "GOD. GOD. GOD. JESUS."

GARY'S MAKING PRESENTS

it's spring time. which means the mices are out. which means the hawks are in the air circling the house and gary is on a killing spree. this is his third in the last month. he comes in the house with it, let's out his weird ass low MRRRGRAXXXOOWWW, and that means, "follow me outside." which i do. then i watch him bite the mouse's head off. CRUNCH. i go back inside. gary finishes eating the mouse. then beckett brings in what's left and leaves it in the middle of the floor or on a pair of tania's house pants. i take pictures of it, then throw it away.

HOUSE PANTS
sittin' on the corner,
talkin' on my cell phone,
wearin' my house pants.