The Animorphs Are Back and Feeling Weird Between the Legs

Bottom line: I took a wrong turn in my life somewhere and now I am obsessed with the Animorphs books. They are total puberty metaphors except a kid turns into a hawk instead of getting his first boner! It's like they were written with my specific needs in mind. The cover summaries always include SNAPPY CHANGE PUNS just to underline the point:

Everything changes. But not quite like this....

Cassie is about to make a change for the better....

He's only human. When he wants to be....

NEVER underestimate the power of a morph....

Change is necessary....

THAT IS PUBERTY WISDOM! There's an extra period in those ellipses for a REASON. (Because of menstruation.) Anyway, the second I saw my first Animorphs I fell in foreverlove; my palms got so sweaty, my heart beat out of my chest, and I raised my head to the sky and released a cry of "animal" pleasure. Why, you ask? Oh, maybe because the cover looked like this:

THAT IS A TWEEN 
MORPHING INTO A STARFISH

Remember when we could not use Photoshop very well

Let us go back to that time

3rd from the left is like the best rave outfit 
I could possibly imagine

THERE WERE A DOZEN BOOKS THERE; I BOUGHT THEM ALL AND MY EYES WERE OPENED: tweens becoming gorillas, tweens becoming salamanders, tweens becoming tarantulas, tweens becoming kangaroos

Tweens becoming...ladies and gentlemen

Not only are the covers peerlessly beautiful, each book also includes a flipbook printed on the page corners that depicts a tender tween in the process of going down on all fours or getting tentacles or becoming scaly or growing a kittenhead, just page by page turning completely bestial. These books do not stop giving. Open one at random and you will see a half-human half-anteater with just an enormous ass for no reason:

or a boy crapping millimeter by millimeter a tiger tail:

or....or whatever is happening here:

or whatever is happening HERE:

or....I don't know what this:

 Now I know what you're wondering: is there poetry inside these books? My children there is nothing but. Consider this installment the first of many.

I Have Turned into, Like, Lots of Animals

I was, like, in the restaurant? Having a croissant? You're MEAT! 

I shrieked. The mommy's making din-din. I have a mouth more 

or less in the middle. And I have turned into, like, lots of animals.

In eagle morph I killed and ate a fish. I ate it while it was still living:

You feel your weak, useless human lips harden and push out 

and out, forming the wicked, yellow, downturned, ripping, tearing 

eagle beak. So powerful it can grab and hold a young lamb.

Helpless! I am the eagle! You cannot resist me. Pure rapture, 

pure raptor. I ate the heart then it stopped beating.

It takes a fairly crazy girl to like a Bird-boy. I flew. I flew as only 

a fly can fly. I hooked up with him at his meadow. I morph 

to grizzly and we go at it, and jab about six inches of bear claw 

into the key slot. And now that I had touched that part of me, 

it seemed powerful. "Irresistible." Stupid, stupid word. We don't 

want to look like an owl convention. The night and owl morph --

it was like being some kind of god! My talon. At any moment 

it might turn into a toe. Until I had no flesh to tremble. 

Soon after that there wouldn't be room for a human. The others 

would never accept me as long as my simpy twin was around.

I could see dirty hay. I could see the feet of the other.

I began to acquire my twin. His DNA flowed into me as mine 

flowed into him. It seemed like forever. It was a fever.

..............................................I think I can slice my own throat.

Two arms burst out of my chest, and gut-rip staggered out. 

Out into a much brighter room beyond. When the room begins 

to squeeze the air from your lungs, call for me. Call for me. 

.............................................In purple ink call for me, purple.

SHOULD WE END WITH A SENSUAL PHOTOGRAPH

I THINK THE ANSWER IS YES

Hooves (Feet)

I almost forgot! When I was in St. Louis I went through a tall stack of my old schoolwork and notebooks and ACADEMIC AWARDS and discovered a yellowed copy of my school paper, the Mother of Mercy High School paper, which seems to be called just e t  c e t e r a? Spaced out like that? It is not the Bugle or the Clarion or the Sun or the Observer or the Journal, no, just e t  c e t e r a looking at me so creepy above the fold. Why can't we do one single thing right in Ohio? Anyway, it's dated Tuesday November 23 1999 and it contains the finest horse article I have ever laid my rolling eyes on. It is called: EQUESTRIANS NOT JUST HORSIN' AROUND! (And if you didn't see that coming then you didn't learn anything from that last entry about my punning mother, herself formed from the richest loamiest most double-meaning Ohio dirt.) Here is the choicest passage of it, here is the choicest horseloin of it:

Many people don't realize all the work and dedication that goes into horses. Not only does the person have to be fit and healthy, the horse does too, and they depend completely on the owner for their everyday needs. Something as seemingly minor as a muscle ache can put a horse out of use for months. Responsibility is a must when working with horses. They can easily become lame if something is wrong with their hooves (feet). "This friend I have, has never talked back to me or stood me up. She is the greatest teacher in the world, yet she has never written on a chalkboard or even read a book. She is demanding and never ceases to amaze me. She is my horse," comments senior Pony Horserubber.

Names have been changed to protect just whoever. ANYONE. All of us. This friend I have, you guys. She has never written on a chalkboard with her hoof (foot), but she is the greatest teacher in the world. She never ceases to amaze me. SHE IS MY HORSE

Fragments from a Week-Long Family Vacation

Mostly and mainly composed of quotes from my mother

PREFACE

The best thing about riding in the car with my mother is how she turns on the Bun Warmer without telling you and then ten minutes later you burst into screams because your ass is on fire 

(This mostly happens to people who are not very situationally aware)

The other best thing about riding in the car with my mother is how much she talks when she drives

LET THE RECITATION OF QUOTES COMMENCE  

"Doesn't a Jonas Brother have cancer? What is the one physical thing with the Jonas Brothers?" (Five minutes later) "I remember! JUVENILE DIABETES."

"There were very bad storms here all week, you know. Later on, maybe tomorrow, I'll take you out and we can go see all the devastation."

"Look, it's the Purple People Bridge!" (Pause) "Someone got raped on that bridge, Tricia. Someone got raped on the Purple People Bridge."

"I've been having one of those, one of those, you know, Rube Goldberg days."
"That is not...a kind of day, Mom."
"One of those days where one thing leads to another."

"Ha! That dog looks like it's been sitting on a horse."

"I heard the worst scream in the grocery store. I thought some toddler was dead. I looked down the aisle and the floor was all smeared with red. Then I realized a toddler must have run into the wine display." (Editor's note: NO TODDLERS WERE EVEN INVOLVED SHE JUST DECIDED THIS)

"I was always a good student. Do you know I scored very high on the SAT?" (Pause) "The Sears Aptitude Test."

"Tricia, I don't know the name of your look...it's not dominatrix, it's not goth...what do you call it?" (Five minutes later) "Maybe...Urban Peasant."

DOMINATRIX AND GOTH, THE TWO MAIN KINDS OF LOOKS

FIN

Then it was over! Elegant Choice greeted me at the Melbourne airport wearing a shirt with the Kool-Aid Man's face on it, and holding not one not two not three but FOUR stuffed animals he had won from the claw machine. "THE CLAW MACHINE IS EASY FOR ADULTS," he screamed. There was a dog, a giraffe, and the following "penguin":

Instantly I thought, what if this toy were my penis

 Prediction: IT WOULD BE INCREDIBLE

ALSO, when I arrived home, he presented me with a love song he had composed while drunk, which contained the following lines:

Peacock got a trick eye
Hedgehog got an obvious home
Flycatcher gonna catch fly
Lawnmower gonna mow lawn

"Hedgehog got...an obvious home?" I asked blankly. Elegant Choice sighed. "His home is in a hedge," he said patiently.

PERFECTION

The Recent Keyword Activity Diaries, Part One Thousand

Hmmm I wonder what Brazil is googling these days

"being fucked by a dog isnt normal but on meth it is"

Why, What's YOUR Definition of "Every Single Day"?

You get two E.T. letters today because I was so lazy last week, plus for free I'll throw in one unit of Fan Art!

Dear E.T.

I have Braces.
I Got them yesterday.
I am home from
School because my
mouth. is sore.
I am seven years
old.
do you have teeth?

From John

Pure poetry, From John. 7-year-olds, never change. He included this...visible seizure along with the letter:

Well. I hope E.T. did not write this child back with any dishonest encouragement. If only we had braces for spatial intelligence, John! I would clamp them on you so fast, tighten them twice a month, and charge you a million dollars.

SPEAKING OF A MILLION DOLLARS:

Dear Mr. Spielberg, (ed. note: hoity-toity! look who's 73 1/2 and can tell the difference between puppets and Men)

I am a little old lady 73 1/2 and I went to see your movie E.T. I loved the movie, but when you pushed my "cry button," I lost my two contact lenses that I have to wear after cataract surgery. Since they cost $325 each, I thought just MAYBE you would like to help me pay for two new ones. Oh yes, I also had to pay $1.50 (Senior admission) to see the movie, but since I didn't "see" the whole movie, I'm out that too. It will cost me another $1.50 to see it again. After I lost the lenses, I missed about 20 minutes of the movie.

Sincerely,
Mrs. Vera Binder

CRY BUTTON. (I have one of these. It's not where you think it is.) 73 1/2-year-olds, ALSO never change. Never stop writing Steven Spielberg to ask him for 650 glaucoma dollars plus $1.50 Senior admission. Mrs. Vera Binder we love you, thank you for giving birth to us. Are you by any chance married to the elderly gentleman who once left a long message at the local newspaper complaining that the papers delivered each morning to his lawn were "full of bugs," which he speculated had been placed there on purpose by Stuart News employees, each presumably with his hand in a writhing bucket full of insects generously provided by the paper itself, plucking out plump grasshoppers and beetles and tucking them in amongst the weather, the lottery numbers, and the long-eared ads for spaniels? Because he would also like a refund. TELL ME IT IS SO.

Call Me One Day My Fon Namder Is 555-5249

Golden day: the universe has entrusted me with a copy of LETTERS TO E.T., a book of fan letters "culled from the over thirty thousand pieces of mail already received by the official E.T. Fan Club." (I would rather read the letters culled from the over thirty thousand pieces of mail already received by unofficial E.T. fan clubs but that is a perverse desire.) The cover shows E.T. looking very wise and sexy in an oversized flannel shirt -- a shirt so flannel and oversized that we know it must be his boyfriend's, and that his glowing finger for once shines not with Empathy but with something else -- and holding a letter to himself, a love letter. And his glowing fingertip is laid over a Name.

THERE IS ONLY ONE THING FOR ME TO DO

POST A LETTER OR A PIECE OF FAN ART EVERY SINGLE DAY UNTIL THE BOOK IS COMPLETE AND WE ARE SATISFIED

STARTING: NOW. We begin with Deanna Marie, a baby taste of what is to come. The babiest of baby tastes, and it will make you hungry.

Dear E.T.

1 E.T. I hope you are a nice animal
2 I have seen you at the movey
3 are you a very nice creacher
4 E.T. I want you to come over my house one day
5 I live on Ruby Street
6 Call me one day my fon namder is 555-5249
7 E.T. I love you very much
8 I hope I see you one day

Deanna Marie
7 yrs. old