THE REMARKABLE STORY OF THE POT HEAD PIXIES O YES AS TOLD BY UNCLE TIM GENTLY HYMNSELF was known to have walked back inside himself and disappeared he said.
Wot hed pixies?
Pot. PE YO TE. Now the question is : Do Pot hed Pixies RILEy exist? DO THEY EXIST?
The WHOO Hed Pixies?
ANSWER : no it doesn't exist.
NOW, THE ASTONISHING STORY OF CAPTAIN MARVEL's VISION.
As I sat in Captain Marvel's temple beside his right eye, the temples voices carrolling behind his voice, he leaned toward me in an intimate vice & said: Once upot a nime, from the door at the roots of a big green tree, there rolled a luscious GREAT fruit. Coo Bludye Limye, said a passing giant who was wearing number nine boots, I ESPIE A LOVE LYE BREAST FART, I'LL SAY. So the giant bent down five miles to pick up the great FRUIT but low & beholding ! As the giants finger fingerbowl tapped on the marvelous GREAT fruit, it turned with a magic pop of sonnet smoke into :
HERE HE COMES. OYEZ. HAALELUJAH. THIS IS IT.
Continued Captain Marvel whilst scraping away at my flesh : AND whot a figure he counted and struck, standin there with his microscopic number nine boots and two blinding rays of sunlight beaming from his pince-nez.
AND so without addle or ado diddley pow, this marvelous demi-gent there- forth brought into the atmospheres, a giant switch of conciousness which turned the giant on.
HHHO HO : he gruffawed. THIS LITTLE GEYSER GOTTA GREEN BOAT RACE AN' BARNET FAIR.
But then he soon fell silent and began to straighten 'is tilbury dock and peckham rye, for this giant could not help but be impressed by his ex-breakfast's microscopic plates of meat. After this, the giant suddenly broke out in a heart spending song :
hardly)TO THIS DAY the giant cannot say what prompted him to sing such words in this way.
meanwhile the P hD Pxye had left his moment of magickal birth far behind him. Here we switch to the next turn of mind on the on side & hear an account of some uncle's vivid describe of his first meat with the King of's person in genuine real life.
THIS IS IT. HOW I MET THE POT HED PXYE IN SLOW MOTION LANGUAGE. by green jesus [the miraculous con man]
Well gents, it was ii remember one disgusting paris afternoon, full of dirty rain and faces filled with struts & gout, when i arose from a night's best to find my pot pouch depleted of its greens.
LACK A DAY, i cried; dismantling my pipes. WOE IS ME.
A fawning day of grey complexion it was, and all the more empty for the pouch. So i shrivelled out of the softs and wormed my way toward the bathroom horizon where there should have been fosters on tap, but when i turned on the taps, all that came out was a little green man. So i a'focussed my credit cards on the wee coot & generally low & beheld him. But he farted forth two quick wows of sunlight from his sunset eyes & his smile was made of money yeah sirrah. Well granted it was not the usual kind of money, but no. And thus the pocket gent spake unto me :
Good evening travellers through the underground head. I am known as the P(for magick) hed PXYE, KING OF:,. and i am the king of the Pot Hed Pxyes. But this means nort or nuffin. Each of the Pot Hed Pxyes is simultaneously our selves, all the others & the very Kingdom itself all at once. Those who have followed the nine fold pipe to grassiousness will undoubtedly know what i mean. This is but one of the millionfold aspects of our ancient cultural heritage which was three thousand million kilos old ten and a half minutes ago. Our age is known as the CONTINUOUS MILLENNIUM EPOC OF THE LAUGHING MARIH JUA RAJAN HOO, and some of the entire population of one hundred lung gong p hd pxyes is always at your elbow, though you are wont not to know it. For the Kingdom of the Pot Head Pixies is just on the other side of that green door over there. So saying. the little dad did give a bit of a puff on his ninefold pipe & we both went floating down the main entrance hall of number nine downing street towards the green door, but we ended up in the broom cupboard breathing in only & stone me ded did i go green though not from envy i can tell yer. O good afternoon, Inspectre. Welcome home.
NOW A NOTEWORTHLESS EX BERT HOLDS HIS SAFARI INTO C M E OF THE L M J R HIn the mornings good afternoon. In the mornings my name is Hubble De Bubble. H. esq. of Mrs. Quid's Finger & Tongue Laundry, and I have a crystal clear ball. Why let me tell you i have studied the the pod hot peskies and whats more I possess a pot belly. Now you must believe me when I say that I really understand the little pricksies. You know i often say I'm just like a GodFather to them but they seem to think I'm a raving old King's Rd. Queen. But you know there IS one thing I can't quite understand that is that they don't quite understand that jolly olde game we call THE BEARING OF ILL WILL TOWARD THY BROTHER.
Well now everybody knows, its an ill will that blows nobody any changes, but do we really know if these Pop ded proxies really exist at all?
BOTH GENUINE AND FAKE. HEREUNDER THE RATIONAL ANSELM OF MR POTHED PXYE
Potte slake our naked pipe
[Turn Onward Brother. We are none of us lovers of pain. Worse Luck.]
Hoping you are the same,