I Was Homeless T

By Homer Lester Teabury
My path to nowhere began in December of 2005 when I fled my abusive spouse after she hit me over the head with a heavy candelabra. Leading up to that crowning, she had made believe that she could no longer hear or see me; until I would turn my back when she would regain her senses and throw things at me. Knives. Icewater. Dirty dishes. The candelabra was the last straw.

I moved into a dilapidated mobile home. The landlord had hoped to collect a modest rent from each of four students that would share the housing. However, the trailer was in such disrepair that I lived alone for only $150.00 a month, and experienced there the disquietude that absolute silence will induce in some men. It was like living on the moon. That lack of sound! Over the months, the absolute silence drove me to take refuge. . . anywhere but there.

The Oral B Electric Toothbrush with Cross Action

by Homer Les Teabury

5 January 2018. "The Oral B" inaugurates my first bid for honest and integritous writing. My planned series is titled "My Interesting Stuff" and will feature things I have acquired, rate their usefulness, and explain how, where, and when I acquired them. Let's get started.

The Oral B Electronic Toothbrush with Cross Action
I acquired my Oral B in February of 2013 on a Las Vegas retreat from the frigidly cold weather of Iowa. I hadn't much money--at the time of the Oral B's acquisition, none--but I had, after my first ten days in the city of Las Vegas, escaped the colorful crowd that lived in the sprawling Salvation Army Emergency Shelter for deluxe accommodations of my own. With the financial help of my son, I had rented a small suite in the complex where my genius nephew E. Christopher resides with the Las Vegas equivalent of a geisha--a very lovely and pleasing woman who takes excellent care of him. She was very gracious to me, as was he. The complex gave him a $50 cash bonus for referring me as a new tenant; that helped to grease the wheels of graciousness on everybody's part. 

A Golden Shower of Teen Perfume and then . . . Christmas, 2007

A Reposting
by Homeless T

24 December 2007. Two Years before Our Unholy Marriage even started. I am alone. The memory of her abrupt disappearance--whisked away by her dad the small-town grifter, and another man, the father of her middle child (she has three kids by three dads)--replays in my mind.

Echoes resonate bittersweet hollowness. I do love her, but the irony that sparked my arrest and no-contact order say otherwise. I broke my pinky pal's . . . pinky.

EBT Clients Receive Cash Back on Refundable Milk Bottles

by Homeless T
2011-06-06. Cedar Rapids, IA.  Many persons claim to be absolutely broke; in reality, few actually are.  Let's face it: the
When you have to ask
your Mummy for money,
you're broke! Unquestionably.
phrase has been bandied about far too liberally in martini bars, over loan-processing conference tables, and in response to dunning creditor phone calls.  Give it a break, people!  If your creditors still talk to you, you're not broke!  They wouldn't be bothering you if you were.  Or if you are wearing duds swell enough for a decent martini bar, where you will surround yourself with all those beautiful people--you are not absolutely broke.  They wouldn't let you in the place if you were.  Even if you only have a telephone, you are not absolutely broke.  So cut it out!  

Pyrates 'o' the Poop-Deck

Written by Tommy George 
Posted by Homer Lester Teabury


Ye be sailin' into biblical headwinds, Matey
moonin' over that frilly yellow-haired doll
who felled ye in the first place, a-falling
drownin' yer soul in her poisonous squall.

Free for Heads & Tales-- Downloading the Dead

Free .wav album of 10 songs

Posted by HL Teabury

From Homeless T's pals, the dead wyreS. They pay me a half-penny for every song downloaded by you for free! Go figure. What a crazy business! 

Oy! If I could only get a billion readers to do it.
Help yourself to some digital shreds of time, place, emotion and mortal flesh, sinking under the weight of superannuation. 

Cockroaches: Smarter than You Think

by Homeless T

2017 11-14. Detroit. How dangerous are cockroaches, really? Do they breed disease, or are they a blessing in disguise? Might they be a divine instrument of karmic cleansing for individuals of tormented conscience, wishing to cleanse
it before they die? I ask because I knew an 80-something seaman who spent his retirement years in a kingdom of roaches. His tiny apartment was home to a million cockroaches that did not run away and hide themselves and showed no fear of humans. Elsewhere, the same bugs would have. The man's only prohibition on the roaches was that they stay off his plate when he was eating. Otherwise, it was their apartment.

Bed Bugs and Mass Murder

by Homeless T

2017-04-25.  DoubleThink Publications cater to readers in search of off-beat news: covert ops, secret pictures, startling facts, sexy gossip, and other prurient horseshit. The present piece is disgusting, but does not fit in any of those categories. Rather, it is a personal chronicle of one individual's obscure experience in humanity's longest-running war, Homo sapiens domesticus v Cimex lectularius Linnaeus, a/k/a Mankind v Bed-Bugs. It is an endless conflict that we're losing.

Cimex lectularius Linnaeus
magnified 5X
One US Environmental Protection Agency report has established that if forty bed-bugs are placed in a room with a mild temperature and unlimited supply of warm-blooded food, within six months their population will exceed 5,900. 

The bed-bugs' dizzying rate of reproduction leaves far behind another well-known theoretical projection, often cited by Science, stating that it requires 1,000 monkeys typing non-stop for 1,000 years on 1,000 typewriters--just to reproduce a single Shakespeare sonnet. 

Joan E Sounds Like She's Ready to Harvest a Few Roosters

by Homeless T

Ms. Joan E Thurman, America's premier voice of Women's Supremacy, is writing about chicken again, but I don't believe she's going to lick any one's fingers this time. She sounds angry at the way young girls are dressing, admiring, (and more so at what they're learning to do for their boyfriends). 

Click my 15-year-old bottom hard to see
what Aunt Joan E is so mad about.
The mother of Women's Supremacy in the United States calls the majority of American women"chickens" and offers a recipe that she recommends throwing on the table and letting the menfolk eat by themselves. Don't worry, Joan E, women are hearing your message. Sometimes things seem to gang up together to make a wrong impression. Anyway, I invite readers to look over her latest for themselves.

Luxury Can Be a Mistress Hard to Leave Behind

by Homeless T

I could get used to this.
2012-06-23. Luxury can be a hard mistress to leave behind--easy to grow fond of, so soft, so clean and sweet-smelling. Homeless T has enjoyed a taste of such living: a beautiful woman, private accommodations since 2010's holiday season, all while starving only rarely, but who cares about food when you have a place of your own? 

Coin-Touch Iowa Gambler Confesses, Declares Let's Sue 'Em

by Homeless T
The Tyrannical Reign of the Hot-Spotted Brain

Four Days in the Life of a Coin-Touch Machine Addict, February 2006
24 February thru 27 February, 2006

Actual X-Ray

Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (OCD) is a psychiatric disorder with a neurological pathology. Using brain-scanning technology and brain-chemistry analysis, some researchers postulate that OCD sufferers, in addition to imbalanced neurotransmitters, demonstrate repeated activity in localized regions of the brain--continuous synaptic firings, or "hot spots" in the brain, like a broken record, endlessly skipping--repeating the same synaptic patterns firing, over and over again. These involuntarily synaptic repetitions, in combination with stimuli-induced changes in brain chemistry, cause in the OCD sufferer an insatiable desire for some activity—insatiable because it can never be satisfied, only cease temporarily when means to the stimulation are depleted.