O Says it Elegantly

"He was evil laughing."

I'm Not Fat

My belly is an oven

And I'm cooking cancer pie

Blackening my organs

From the in- to the outside.

The crust is rising steadily

And pressing against my abs

The pie soon will be finished

According to my labs.

My strength is ebbing daily

My vision's blurry, too,

Before too long I do believe

I shall be turning blue.

And when my lungs stop moving

And I'm resting on a slab

A knife hovering above me

As the coroner blabs

My soul it will be sailing

Way up above the clouds

And when I knock on heaven's door

I'll be knocking very loud.

When the pie is opened

And my guts begin to sing

I'll be grating on the ass

Of heaven's all gracious king.'

Saint Lucy (by Q)

Q's new best friend is St. Lucy, the Patron Saint of Eyesight   . . . which is why she is carrying a bucket of eyeballs (complete with eyelashes) in her left hand. The cactus in her right hand is just some kind of sprig-ish thing. 
I am particularly impressed by the fact that St. Lucy's head floats above her body . . . and also by the fact that, as a saint, she apparently has no need of feet.  As the spirit rises, the body begins to dissipate.  I'm sure that this would make Plato very happy.

 Oddly enough, Q's love for St. Lucy has not mitigated her hatred for former best friend Helen Keller, who is now a "mean, stupid, ugly little blind girl." Wow. Q is a straight shooter, you've got to give her that. Apparently at some point Helen K. became a hitwoman, as she seems to have gunned down a few folks . . . and I think at one point she was going for Little Bo Peep (or Peepie as I call her--when I want to get a rise out of Q). Ah, such a rich and wonderful world Atlantis is . . . way down below the ocean.