Torrid Zone, image by AC Evans
THE SMOOTHIE OPERATOR
So who knew what when?
Kick it and kick it now, make a go of it.
Meanwhile, I’m preaching to the perverted,
My favourite occupation:
To avoid an obscure lock out, you
Must have must see better results.
Favourite frolics from the Cryptic Quartet
Playing Kleine
Feine Kostbarkeiten
No joke, healthy natural party-poppers
Storm-wrack clouds driving sleet icy rain.
I’m hard at work, I’m a people-watcher.
The mad bloke in the garage…
The sinister chap in the greenhouse…
Made in hell, loved in heaven
Frantic massage hot and cold
Beauty fragrance, worldwide service.
So who knew what when?
Kick it and kick it now, make a go of it.
Must dash! She gasped.
No Zone Layer disintegrating fast,
More like a Torrid Zone,
Way out far out ok thanks, eureka!
We have lift-off within the hour.
No time for hair beauty fragrance
Oh, stuff it, he was a sissy underwear fetishist,
She thought – good for a laugh but not much else.
Not long now darling, old fashioned looks,
Blurred vision, lights camera action,
Not long now darling.
In operation never give an inch.
She clenched her buttocks,
Clamped her thighs and crushed his nutcracker
Just below the asteroid belt.
Oh, do concentrate at the back.
Anyway, guess what?
Terminal Zombies
From Pluto was a trashy product,
Utter nonsense from beginning to end.
So who knew what when?
Kick it and kick it now, make a go of it.
Tell us your big news, she muttered, you know, your
Living moments, your secret fears, wheel-balancing,
Terrible traffic, hot wraps, disgrace yourself,
As a bulk carrier skids off the motorway.
Not long now darling, oh darling!
My sultry Smoothie Operator grinned in a sexy way.
Let’s stay in the Torrid Zone, she whispered.
Ready for more?
—AC Evans
