HALLS
WALLS, CHAPTER 239
I
NEED MAJOR PROTECTION SHERIFF SIR. At half past midnight,
those dirt bag garbage blasted me outside my window with that monster
illegal noise in violation of two major laws; and then around one
this morning, my across the hall nabe and some guests and others
around me, all made a lot of noise out in the hall right outside of
my door, as if totally on purpose, and as stated before sir; the
music in the car blaring and then these nabes, in any order, proves
that it is them doing a double-attack on me, in violation of my civil
rights. My no good family up north seems to have a large hold on that
hood up there where these trash all seem to be coming from, who are a
thorn in your side every bit as mine, kind Sheriff Mascara, sir. Just
so you know this is all real and happening, my kind friend!!!!!!!!
THE
WEATHER BUG
Life
for me has never ever been this mother fucking twat licking bad, not
in nearly the entire 61 years of my nightmare fucking hellish god dam
life, YO!!!!!!!!!!!!! This is what happens to peeps who have SATAN
personally against them this much, and don't let fucking cunt eating
Christtians tell you otherwise, this god of this age and world OWNS
the land, and rules the cosmos. He takes souls to hell every single
day, and gets preachers to holler out he is just a defeated foe after
the great cross of Calvary incident. They are mixing up the two
realms, energy and mass, or better said, physical and spiritual.
That, sir Kimba Whitelion; YOU CAN BE SURE, in or out of all great
things from 1969.
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When
you open your eyes underwater, do you ever worry that you'll drown?
Well,
I did drown in 1995, in South Atlantic City. Remember, I am the one
in 1984 from Highland Avenue.
2006-2015,
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
(BOM) BLOGS OF MOUNTAINPEN
©
MARK WAYNE MOHR
Now
the very last thing that I want to do, is to get 'Listener Theresa'
of WFMU internet radio, all up set or excited; but here goes any how;
My
1985 doctor M. Miller Bittle, ''My Philadelphia Father'' book.
GONE,
unable to locate.
So
why has my health failed me recently. Well, a child can see it if
they should be truly looking for it. My dirt bag family is plotting
major shit against me. As for the crap with Cuzz-Donnie, let us be
realistic. He is very serious about his most recent endeavors. He
will have powerful enemies that will try the original shit that
politicians all throw at each other. When his rivals then need to
pour on even larger shit, they could theoretically come knocking on
my door, as what would they have to lose asking me for my story and
unpleasant dealings with the man. So it is a wise idea for him to
get with his pals, and have me slowly covertly murdered. And this is
exactly what is happening to me; President Obama, sir!!! Please find
some way to help me Mister President. THANK
YOU SIR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
{{{((*HALLS----------WALLS*))}}}
CHAPTER
#239
NO
SIR-E-BOB; THERE IS NOTHING FUNNY ABOUT ME, OR MY STORY FROM HELL,
AND THE NIGHTMARE MONSTER characters WHO ALL ARE INVOLVED IN MY
ENDLESS RELENTLESS FUCKING WOES AND MISERIES.
Hay
Sarah Callio and Paula King, and all of you rotten TAWFERS; YO. Here
are some instructions for you.
1)
Place heavy sandbag belt around you.
2)
Be sure the weight is at least 80 pounds.
3)
Find this location below.
4)
Go there, walk down the stairs, and keep right on going! Forget
sweeping the beach, Senator.
SHARK,
SHARK, Aunt Gloucesteruth Hyperspace. All the answers are within all
of us, somewhere deep fucking inside. I am just wondering how Steve
Fascitar is doing these days, Mister Marcucci, mister Ciprionni, and
Misses Marola, of Coolie Wormhole Hall?
Aren't
fatal heart attacks, and deadly choke hold fun; Mister McDonald, and
Mister Evans? I sure hope that the wrong Mister Evans's, don't do a
Vein Carly Simon on me here! These words are part of the seventies,
not the nineties!!!!!!!!!!!
Six
white flowers for Donna's white-boy. If anyone says to me, “Brother,
can you spare a Julia-Flower”, get ready for one big fat helluva
hunch right in the snout!!!!!!!
Oh
Mister Peter Vitteritti and Mizz Jennifer Washburn; I have a nice
pwetty fwower for that A&R lady in NYC, YO.
I
WOULD MUCH RATHER HAVE PAULA AND DAWN STRAPPED
INSIDE AN EM FIELD, THAT KEEPS THEM
TRAPPED; THAN JUST BIG DAWN,
YO!!!!!!!!!!
I
WOULD MUCH RATHER HAVE PAULA AND DAWN STRAPPED
INSIDE AN EM FIELD, THAT KEEPS THEM
TRAPPED; THAN JUST BIG DAWN,
YO!!!!!!!!!!
I
WOULD MUCH RATHER HAVE PAULA AND DAWN
STRAPPED
INSIDE AN EM FIELD,
THAT
KEEPS THEM TRAPPED;
THAN
JUST BIG DAWN, YO!!!!!!!!!!
And
of course, I want SARAH, and her nasty ass fucking broom, in that
field, all nice and trapped too; beach sweeper, pier barnacle
cleaner, Fire Dog caller; Mayor Levy, YO!!!!!!!!
WHAT
NEXT, COLD CRUEL MOTHER MILF HUFFING PUFFING DIVING
WORLD????????????????????
Hay
Uncle Snoots-Heinz from 1972; more vomit, more conductor stories, or
just more trains, YO?
As
long as we don't drag poor Mountainpen Mark Wayne MOHR into this
horse shit, Jesus dam-ass Christ!!!!!!!
JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE,
DETECTIVE FONTANNA!
JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE,
DETECTIVE FONTANNA!
JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE,
DETECTIVE FONTANNA!
JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE,
DETECTIVE FONTANNA!
JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE,
DETECTIVE FONTANNA!
JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE,
DETECTIVE FONTANNA!
JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE,
DETECTIVE FONTANNA!
JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE,
DETECTIVE FONTANNA!
JEEEEEEEZ-LOUISE,
DETECTIVE FONTANNA!
Audience:
BLOG
BIO, ON JUNE 29, 2015, 11:22 P.M.
IN
OR OUT OF FOCUS. WHAAAAAAAA!
CLICK
BELOW TO ARCHIVE OLDER BLOGS, PLEASE FOLKS!
©
2006-2015
Now
some of you know that when I talk about the old job before
Cifaloglio, the dude who was very mysterious and claimed to be an
Olympian God, named Psyche Myrathus from the Great Ring River to the
Province one away from Province Olympia; and two friends of his, all
knew some friends of this driver-Anthony from the new job. But to
keep this all going, I had the WAYV crew, and of course their queen,
the great PAULA Somnambulist KING. I totally believe that Paula is
one and the same person that worked with my mom, because they share
some wild things in personal life besides being dead ringers to each
other physically. They had another weird trait of dating people who
resembled each other yet were not twins or trips or quads or quints.
If I ever tell the story in detail of how Satan tried to murder me in
Philadelphia one hot 1975 summer day, shortly after I got beat up in
Atlantic City by the ACBP mascots in South Town; no one would ever
believe any of it, not unless I could prove it, and I am pretty sure
with the help of two living peeps, I CAN!!!!!!!!!!!!! UH-OH MACO
SHARKSHIT AUNT RUTHGLOUCESTER; here comes the fucking
WOD-DISAPPEARING-HACK, FCC!!!!!!!!
BUTTTTTTTT;
the light at the end of the dam ass tunnel, is a lot more than three
intersecting jet vapor trails, that are all criss- crossing, back in
December of 1969, or even just a lot of red XXXXXXXXX's
YO!!!!!!!!!
JULY
10, 2015,
FRIDAY
MORNING AT 8:24,
HERE
IN FORT PIERCE, FLORIDA.
CURRENT
TEMPERATURE 79 DEGREES FNHT.
RANGE
SO FAR-------(H-79/L-72).
RELATIVE
HUMIDITY IS 90%, FEELING LIKE 86.
WIND
IS E AND CALM, WITH SMALL GUSTING TO 3.
THIS
PARTICULAR WRITING TERMINATES NOW.
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