Manilla and her Chinchilla

My first attempt, in many years, at a limerick.

There once was a girl named Manilla.
She loved to play with her chinchilla.
Then one day it died
while it attempted to hide
in the power outlet in the villa.

Introducing: The Brand New Degloopifier

Some few weeks ago, it was sweltering hot and humid. I felt like my desk was in a sauna except that it didn't feel good and relaxing. It was just a still muggy night that makes one feel like even blinking results in sweating profusely. I had changed my Facebook status to something like "Krishna Chavda wishes it weren't so stickyhothumidstuffythickgloopy" and my aunt asked through a comment whether or not i owned a manually operated degloopifier. I told her the store ran out when I went to go buy one. Needless to say, the conversation sparked some creative ridiculousness.

The Degloopifier
Pen, watercolor
10.5 x 14 inches

After I made the image, I thought it would be funny as an ad with an infommercialy tone - which for some reason came to me as a poem.

If you can't read it on the image:
Do you ever feel steamy and wet like soup?
Does your skin every feel like gloopitygloop?
If you wish to be seen
with a body so clean,
then be a proud buyer
of the Degloopifier.
Its powerful hose
will degloop your clothes!

Rotting Gnome gets some history

Last night as I was attempting to go to sleep, I realized I hadn't brushed my teeth. So I got out of bed, went to the bathroom, and while I was brushing I was thinking about the Rotting Gnome drawing I had made earlier this year. And for some bizarre reason, I started thinking about him in rhymes, and soon that turned into a more poem verses. I finished brushing and spent the next 30 minutes writing out the poem that is about the history of the Rotting Gnome, its origins and purpose in life.

To see the drawing go here.

As I sat in my room
just hanging about,
there was a great scream
and a loud shout.

My name was a called,
the voice was still ringing.
I ran to the window
and saw my friend singing.

With an untied shoe lace
up the stairs she came,
and made an entrance
of such glory and fame.

We did some play.
Some chit chat we made.
We had a good time
till the sun began to fade.

We spoke of art things
and an orange hula hoop.
We even discussed
our daily need to poop.

Soft ones, hard ones,
they're all entertaining.
They're always a good talk
when sunny or raining.

"There's a rotting gnome
in the butt" she said,
I looked at her funny,
like she’s crazy in her head.

“What’s a rotting gnome?”
I asked her slightly confused.
And what she told me
left me very amused.

She spoke with such vigor,
"It’s when a mean old gnome
converts your butt
into his home sweet home.

"He wines and dines there,
among the muck and the slime.
He plans to live there
for quite along time.

"He fixes his walls,
he blocks you up.
He builds up the pressure
until you erupt.

"He comes out flying,
you think you will win.
Oh, so wrong you are,
for again he goes in.

"Stealthily goes home.
To that house he goes back.
To that little hole
in your butt crack."

This description of her's
was ever so clear,
made me wonder,
is a rotting gnome near?

Is he around?
is he resetting up camp,
with his slime and muck
and methane lamp?

Mostly, I believe its
nothing but a joke,
but every so often,
I can feel him poke.