Camp Self-Worth Homeless Poets Fellowship WINNERS

NAME: Drippy-Nose Wolfbaum
ENTRY: "My Nose, it Drips" 1st Place

My Nose, it Drips
by Drippy-Nose Wolfbaum

My Nose
It Drips
Upon My Nips
My Naked Nips

It Touches My Lips
It Touches My Hips
It Breaks My Heart
It Makes Me Fart




NAME: Professor Soda-Pop
ENTRY: "I Love Soda-Pop" 2nd Place

I Love Soda Pop
by Professor Soda-Pop

I feel like a man
With a bubble can
A bubble can
A bubble can

Sometimes I pee inside my can
Inside my can
Inside my can

And tell my friend Henry
It's a fresh lemon fizzer
A fresh lemon fizzer
A fresh lemon fizzer

And then Henry drinks it
And says "this isn't a lemon fizzer"
"this is just some of your urine"

And I say
"Yes, it is just some of my urine"
And then we go to bed
Inside of some garbage



NAME: Dr. Crab-Helmet
ENTRY: "I Blasted My Pants" Honorable Mention

I blasted my pants
On Saturday night
On the way to Banana Peel Theatre

I had a date with Esmeralda Wolfhair
But I blasted my pants
And I was filled with despair

I shouldn't have eaten that
Smoked salmon and egg nog
It made me slam my trousers

With a hot pot of juice
From my grumbling guts

Young Hungerbeast Reigns Supreme

A young Hungerbeast was chosen to replace long-time Grand Champion Hungerlord Sir. Hotbeef Redsauce as the presiding Chow-Slammer of the Universe. Every 10,000 years, the current Grand Champion Hungerlord must choose an apprentice.

This year, a small Beefmaster named Ham-Hock Steamroller was chosen at a McDarnalds chowhouse in Cole Slaw, Road Eyeland. The current Grand Champion Hungerlord floated down to earth on a geyser made of hot turkey gravy and landed in the McDarnalds parking lot, where he made a large beef-fart. Many people vomited from the hellfire stench.

The Grand Champion entered McDarnalds through the south doors and he ordered a HotMan 2000 and a basket of Potato Rods. He sat down across from young Ham-Hock and observed him during his slam-feast. After the meal, the Grand Master passed his medallion onto his successor.

The young Ham-Hock Steamroller gave a short, but spirited acceptance speech.

"I accept this medallion in honor of my father Warm-Pork, who passed away while trying to roast a full-grown Giraffe over a large fire pit in the bowels of Africa. Thank you former Grand Champion Hotbeef. I promise to uphold the values of Chow-Slammer of the Universe by eating Hog Gravy, Lard Bricks, Beef Hunks, and Whole Burds. Thank you, Lord."

Bon-Bon Bumpenheimer's Pet Universe: Christian X-Mas Warmskin Newbodies

Attention Bun-Bun shoppers!

We have a whole new catalog of Sports Pets, Moistened Floppers, and Soothing Warmskins as gift ideas for holiday glory-time. Just in time to give your small-bodies the surprise of a lifetime! What's better than having little Hambone wake up Christian X-Mas morning to find a birth-moistened Gruncher waiting for him under the festive death bush? Nothing. Nothing is better than that. Except for maybe a wet-mouthed Toggert to greet your fresh-babies. Or a hot-blooded Dick-Skin Cattywumpus to make your little-hearts feel real nice. Read on to learn more about our new soft-breathers...



TOGGERT
$3.99

These bud-duds are easy to care for. Just make fresh warm oatmeal in the morning and pour it on your Toggert's lips. He will swallow it and groach and huggle--all to the delight of your youngkids. Toggert will love you forever. Toggert lives 48 hours.



DICK-SKIN CATTYWUMPUS
$7.99

Dick-Skin Cattywumpi are a child's favorite friend. Kids love running their fingers over the dips and raggles to find hidden hun-duns and little caverns. Dick-Skin Cattywumpi usually eat microwaved color crayons (preferably yellow) and old slippers. When you're choosing the right kind of slippers to feed your Dick-Skin Cattywumpus, try to find the oldest slippers around. Look for signs of excessive decay and sweat damage. If you can get a hold of athlete's slippers or the slippers of a long-dead person, your Dick-Skin Cattywumpus will love you forever.



GRUNCHER
$4.49

Everyone knows Grunchers are the most intelligent critter in the animal kingdom. Every 75 years, blue whales blast a Gruncher out of their "blast-hole" onto dry land. Scientists and math teachers have no idea how this is possible. Lucky for consumers like you, a recent Gruncher birthpile was found off the coast of Nevada, near the arctic sea. There were thousands of Grunchers waiting to be claimed. I, Bon-Bun Bumpenheimer, was the first one to the scene. We used our fleet of Chevy Celebrities to round up the critters in fishing nets. Then we towed them home on the Interstate. Now they're available just in time for Christian X-Mas.

The Throat House

Let's be true-faced with one another. Everyone loves swallowtube surgery! Even my crab-apple Aunt Croak. It's the funnest procedure anyone could ever wish for. You get to lay like a hotdog in a warmbun for hours while man hands and silver-sticks go inside of your gizzard. It's like having a fun-time exploration of a wet-cave like back when you were a young-whisker.

It's true... I didn't have black-balls in my neck. Nor did I have any kind of white-smoke disease. I just wanted to have some fun-tyme surgery. So I went to a place around the corner from my Dad's trailer. It's called "The Throat House." It's a good old fashioned fun-palace if I might say so.

The first thing they did is ask me how much money I wanted to spend on neck-cuts. I said about nine hundred cashpounds. Then the owner, Dr. Poark Hamglaze came out with a burlap sack to take my money. After that... they took me in the back put a gigglemask over my mouth to make me sweet-headed then I laid down like a hotdog.

The experience was a grum-dugger! I smiled a tooth exposure-face for Dr. Hamglaze the whole time! He was laughing at me and he kept calling me "Tube Jim" even though my name is Henry Thomas. It was terrible. I hated it.

After all the fun, I got to walk around in a flower-robe and meet all of the other Throat House patients. I met a kind-man named Rimshot Gorgonheim who had is bulsa exposed to a wild Grook. Then I met a young-boy by the name of Boober Wetcliffe who showed me his throat wound. It looked like a sour-apple after a wormfeast! After that I met the woman who would become my wife, Schroeder Junkhole. She was just like me. She had some extra greendollars to throw around so she got her gagger slashed just for the kick! We connected right away and signed up for second surgeries. I'm going in next week to have the right side of my asparagus boinker gnawed on by a razor-claw. She's going to see if Dr. Hamglaze can make a custom rip on her cough-bone. I can't wait!

Uncle Dad = My Best Friend

WET-BUSH ELEMENTARY SCHOOL
11-17-1993

"MY BEST FRIEND"
by Porridge Sandwichmeat, 5th Grade

After school I hate to watch Sally Nevada on Disnee Channel. I just go over to my friend Uncle Dad's house. He lives a few blocks away. We like to watch big-boy movies and play with bar-bells. He is my best friend.

Last year, my REAL dad and I went to the park to play on the playground. My dad said he was going to go get a foam-chugger at the smell house. When the sun went down I started crying. I was so scared because he never came back. That's when I met my best friend and my new rad-dad. He was standing under a streetlight wearing a long-coat. He said "don't worry, I'll help you." I asked him what his name was and he said "uncle dad."

HERE IS A PICTURE OF "UNCLE DAD" WINNING THE BEEF-HAM MALE WET-BODY CHAMPION-SHIP:



Ever since then we've been best hud-duds. After school, we go sit in his steam-box and go slippery-doodle in his hotpool. We even watch his Laser-Discs: Bengo Groark, Soft-spot Underpants, Slip-n-Slyde Boyz, Moist Friday, Beef-Muscle Mack, and Veiny Vinny.

Uncle dad likes to make me hot-plate warm-meals and set them on my jeans for dinner. He makes me Rot-Tot-Tots, Nicken Chuggets, Brownsauce Meat, Hot Cow Innards, and Chinese Boilers.

He even made me a special birthday cake with big-boy bar-bells all over it! Uncle dad says one day my bar-bell will look just like this:



THE END.

1997 Consumer Report: Werewolf Insurance

The Werewolf Insurance craze has officially swept the nation. Nervous shiver-bodies and spooked Henrys from coast to coast have rushed to Rip-Jip's Centennial Ghost, Spook and Wolf-Bite Preventive Insurance Centers of Southern America to purchase the "Lifetime Gold Hound Dog and Wolf-hound No-Bite Plan."

Ever since a Werewolf busted into the White House last Hugtember and tried to sniff the President's asshole, people have been concerned about their own corntubes. The number of "Hound Dog and Wolf-hound No-Bite Plans" have risen from 4,000 warmbodies in 1992 to 75,000 in this fine year 1997.

Customers from all demographics have began to feel the tremble of fear deep down in their grape-sacks and nard-holsters. Last year alone, Werewolf attacks tripled in American nursing homes. Over 2 million shrivel-bodies were completely devoured in their sleeping chambers by hungry wolf-dogs and blood-snarfers.

We spoke with an old-fashioned grey-afro long-boob about her terrifying experience with a Red-eyed Hunger-beast.

"I was in my bed watching an episode of Nadlock Whoopie-Cushions on Grey-hair TV and I heard a growl or a snarl outside of my window. I got out of bed to look outside and a Wolf-beast lunged inside my living quarters. I thought it was going to eat my old body but it kept sniffing my legs. Eventually, I realized it was smelling my catheter. It began to grown and it ripped the catheter off my leg and snarfed all the hot dunnerds inside. It was terrible."

We spoke to a man from Easter-Christmas FunVille Nursing Facility for Sag-Faces in East Carolina about his experience with a Night-Hound.

"I was inside of my bathroom trying to make a brown-pile in my smell-vat when I heard a wolf-howl outside of my door. I said 'who's there' but no one answered. So I got off the stink-bowl and moved toward the door with my pants around my ankles. I opened the door up just a crack and saw a 12 foot Werewolf going through my collection of Matlock tapes on VHS. I screamed at him to get away from my tapes but he saw me and barged into the bathroom and ate all of my browncream out of the smell-tank. I have never felt so violated."

At Consumer Reports, it is our Sky-Lord appointed duty to inform you of grave incidents such as the ones you have just heard. We strongly advise any shriveled humans or weak-hearts to buy the "Hound Dog and Wolf-hound No-Bite Plans." The silver plan includes a 6-Month No-Bite guarantee while the Gold plan ensures a full 7-Months of No-Bites plus a full turd-replacement promise. So whenever a Hungry-Beast gobbles one of your brownlogs, Rip-Jip's Centennial Ghost, Spook and Wolf-Bite Preventive Insurance Centers of Southern America promises to replace every ounce of smell-log lost.

Bolster Groach Gets a Hungry Man Feast From His Mom

On his 36th Birthday, Lawnmower Engineer Bolster Groach received a special present from his Mother. A Hungry Man feast. His mother explains:

"My son Bolster lives out in the garage behind our house. He makes his money fixing grassblades and weedhackers for Jork Bunsniffer down the street. Bolster is a gentle warmspirit and we're proud to have him as our bigboy. When he's not working on lawnparts he usually pets the neighbor kids inside of his room fort. For his 36th Birthday we decided to get him a warm-meal to put inside of his fleshsack."

We caught up with Bolster to get his side of the story. It seems he was in the middle of giving a warmpet to a smallboy who lived next door so we came back the next day to interview him. This is what he had to say:

"I love my brownharied mother. She is a sweet sugarangel. I never left home because I don't know how to hold my torker when I sprinkle. For my birthday this year she got me the Hungry Man Boneyard Boontussle Brogers with a side of Nashed Tugglers and Hot Sploosh."

Small-Faced Tim Celebrates His Last Birthday

It's the end of the life-tunnel it seems for a miniature tenderflesh named Tim from Horseapple, a small town out near Nardsville.

Friends and relatives have gathered for Small-Faced Tim's "death feast" where he was able to choose all of his favorite treats to enjoy one last time.

"My Dippy says I'm going to Darkville so he let me pick out my favorite sugartuts. I choose a Choco-Horkus, a Groak, a Bapple Cider Fuckus, and a Rigumtort Slophouse. For desert we're having Plowdog Chili-Hunger and Boon-Chunk Rungers."
-Small-Faced Tim

Small-Faced Tim came down with a terrible case of Boondoggler's Frown last Barch when he grumpled into a patch of Friar Friar Fucks. Small-Faced Tim is just a littleman so his immune system wasn't able to fight off the terrible blow of poison bullshit that came from the plant. According to Nadshrinker Medical Journal, there is no known cure for Boondoggler's Frown at this time. Most white-jacket wearing medical doctors call it a "stupid idiot's disease" and don't like to "fuck around with it."

Small-Faced Tim's Dippy made some comment's on his son's sugar chowdown:

"My son Small-Faced Tim loves sweet sugar. I bought him a Rustler Cap like the real pistolboys used to wear. We've been trying to tell him that Darkville is a great place for littleboys and there are lots of nicemen there to make him feel like a strongarm."
-Regular-Faced Fenton Corkscrew

Salute insult dead people that died while building it

50% of stoic patriots will agree that Wasted Agility, the new one guy competition that's turning us on like Cammy in Street Fighter is pounding down all other televised pantomiming conflict head-to-head Gimmetheballs.

Kime Castraggit, native of FuckFaggots Missouri, bellyflipped across the states to Unknown Deepwater #1 and back again, hands on the wheel but no really. Everyone is growing strong muscles for a gander at his patented Crystal Sun Helix Asunder Ganon impersonation.
Kime Castraggit aka "Perfect Sex"

Other Wasted Agility competitors, such as Grease Puffleshit, Andasitor Touch, Eyeknife Wayne and Justice Mirror stand tall as the leading jesters in this game of evading doing anything remotely constructive with their life on bluespin. They dominate and kids emulate them with burning effigies and WalMart purchases. Catch them every other night on CNN just before Slow Talk.

Jick Magger crosses the line.

Jick Magger, lead jaw-turner for the band Stolling Rones has officially made a hork-wuffer of himself onstage.

On Rogtember 32nd, the Stolling Rones were playing a gig at the Rochester Eggsucker Stadium. In the middle of the song "Mawtucket Mary," Jick Magger hopped offstage and began wrapping his gaping mouth around the heads of infants in the audience. A woman in the front row was holding her twins and was surprised to see Mr. Magger stretch his massive red liver lips around both of her infants heads, one at a time of course.

"I was so shocked I dropped both of my babies and ran for an exit. Later that day I was like 'where are my babies?' I went back into the Stadium after the show to look for them and I found them squashed flat underneath a couple of seats next to a pile of popcorn. I decided to just pick up the small pile of popcorn and take that home instead."
-Tornup Swigger

Towards the end of the show, Jick Magger strutted back on stage and began to look for more things to wrap his large trap around. He found a few more babies backstage that his tour manger had stashed for him. Rumor has it that he put the entire babies heads in his mouth in order to absorb the proteins from the soft spot on the back of the skull.

Porkflesh Male Human Competition Event

IN MEMORY OF DEAR UNCLE GORKY. #1 PORKFLESH BALL-ARM POTATO CHIP CRAMMER.

Notice to all of my Porkflesh Ballsport Smyle-Faces: You guys already know that the yearly Porkflesh Hammerdown is happening this Sunday night. The Donahue Pie Eaters are playing the Nard Town Ruckers. It's gonna be a great ovalball cocksmash.

We've been having this event ever since 1982, when my Uncle Gorky was still young and vibrant. Boy could he catch a Porkflesh! Just look at the above picture. The had the coordination of a blood panther and the eyes of a baldhead ee-gull.

We are serving a bowl of SaltRounds for you hungrymouths. But everyone needs to pitch in. My wife Teresa Smelltrout bought a bag of Caribbean Flavored SaltRounds but now we don't have anymore money. I prayed to my Uncle Gorky to send down spirt powers so we could get more money for more chips but it didn't work. So we only have enough for each person at the party to have one half of a handfull of SaltRounds.

Also, if someone has a TV and Pay-Per-Peek, we need those things too. We don't have a TV or a coffee table. Or a couch.

Ghost of Mervyns Rises From Dead to Taunt Loyal Sears Customers

Customers at the Double Brown Shopping Center fled in terror from a specter Mervyns Department Store that appeared in a flash of fog and lightning and began to taunt loyal Sears customers. Witnesses say that the store, which went bankrupt and got demolished in 1991, materialized in the Sears parking lot.

We asked some of the witnesses to comment:

"My wife Bork and I have shopped at Sears since we got our first goldcoins. This is where we buy all of her bodyrags and beefed-up shoulderpads. When we pulled into the parking lot today, we saw a demon Mervyns floating two feet off the ground hollering obscenities a bunch of prunefaces. It was awful"
-Mart Plowbog, 32

"My best friend Pennywallet and I come to Sears every Saturday to check on the Kitty Sweaters. But today that damn Mervyns ghost store scared Pennywallet so bad that she lost control of her bowels and made a brownsplash in the parking lot. We had to take the bus all the way back home to Shady Bung Retirement Fort so she could change her crapchute."
-Horky Cumberbun, 91

"I have to walk through Sears to get to my favorite stores like Smoker's Palace and Card Trader's Bungalow. When I saw the ghost I dropped my greennugget smoking tube on the concrete and it broke. Now I have to ask my aunt Greubler for another glass bubble torker."
-Dun Cripp, 17