The Blob: Some Supermarket Gobbets

The Blob was a 1958 sci-fi-horror film that starred Steve McQueen, as Steve, and Aneta Corsaut as Jane. A significant scene in the movie took place in the Andrews grocery store.

Gobbet Vegetable Department

The blob has no definite shape or size, shapely able to change form at will obsess pash sometimes a zucchini or an eggplant, a voluptuous cauliflower, half off, two for one, corpus callosum, apple, orange, and always upfront, final frontier, lurking for you, an aroused spider, a virus, your waiting Uber, emergency hospital, for you a red fire hydrant or yellow, when you walk in, wipe your feet, leave all hope behind ♫ If you fall, I will catch you, I’ll be waiting ♫ Time after time, an antlion ambush is the day’s mail, because they, the corpse veggies, create a tempting sensory experience, a secreted chemical fact sentimental slink ambulance excreted that triggers a spook response, to communicate that produce is fresh, to get fresh with, flesh, temporary, ♫ Wouldn’t you know we’re riding on the Gilgamesh Express, to mesh flesh, a thorn in, torn universe in my wildest, manic pixie livin the dream, a dream world of endlessness mind’s eye of many moons ago now, meshed potatoes, androstadienone, androstenone, assassin in the shape of a recent crescent moon, banana, flesh, skin or hide, the, from. Larry’s ghost said: once the blob saw Horny Betty heading over to the bananas and quicky changed into a yam alarm, she was wildly appealing, tattle, single mingle so quick thinking on the part of the blob, split, shape of flesh, salad dressing, thing that belongs to the figure forms of flesh, transgress configuration, blob job, mental illness, get your fingers burned, bright eyed and bushy tailed, turned down, stood up. Her ghost said: you ruined poetry, you’re the Angkor Watt of ruined poetry! His ghost said: he wore a banana as a bandana, ♫ ‘round her neck she wore a yellow banana, enchanted banana mummified paste, Velvet Underground Warhol banana, tormented banana cream pie, the tormented banana lanced his heart, it all ends in a dessert vapor of banana, Louisiana lament banana cement, closed off into his fantastic banana skull casing, smoke banana peels, I have something to say but I don’t know what, is that a banana in your pocket? Mitch McConnel looks like a melting, decaying banana with a crown of fruit flies, the Pelopida thrax is a tiny moth that loves, to feast on banana leaves, Nang Tani is a ghost that haunts wild banana groves in her mist luscious moon light nights she, ♫ Nana, Nana, bo-bana ♫ Banana-fana fo-bana ♫ Fee-fi-mo-mana ♫ Nana! And then he awoke, had coffee, and went to the supermarket, suppermarket, he thought of bizarro supperman, and it was all a sadness of clean, dry recycled plastic bags stuffed inside of another recyclable plastic bag, with his infinite love boiled heart and then roasted heart, and instead of bananas he fed his crisp heart chips, greasy, to bonobo chimps. Jane found a slip of paper that had fallen to the floor, abandoned, around where the Nasoya tofu was displayed, and she proceeded to read:

Interlude: A Listicle Refrain· Chanty sing. For solo recitation. Pace: quick. Tone: enthusiastic. Perform once: yam Perform ten times: cucumber Perform once: broccoli Perform twice: eggplant Perform 4 times: cucumber Perform 4 times: orange Perform 5 times: tomato Perform 4 times: eggplant Perform 5 times: potatoes Perform 4 times: eggplant Perform 10 times: lettuce Perform once: eggplant Perform once: broccoli Perform 4 times: cucumber Perform 4 times: orange Perform 5 times: tomato Perform 4 times: eggplant Perform 5 times: potatoes Perform 4 times: eggplant Perform 10 times: lettuce Perform 6 times: green beans Perform once: squash Perform 3 times: p-p-p-pepper Perform 3 times: asparagus zucchini Perform 4 times: garlic Perform 2 times: celery Perform once: garlic Perform once: carrots Perform once: garlic Perform once: broccoli Perform once: yam Gobbet Isle 1

Gripped by despair and fear at the sight of napkins, as far as my ghost can remember the blob was me, this creature, a monster, with no definite shape or size like July or what the hand might do in any backlot, harlot, at any time, blackout, blob it up, blot, Bounty Paper Towels: absorbent quicker picker upper, to blob to change form at will poem whim want, a kinda kiss, fit the lip (poetry), a jarmouth Meyer Brothers hard cider sip from a glass gallon jug, chance spill spell, lip lock button, out of touch, hear her great ghost gourds echo loop endless, his luffa shooting blobs, imbecile, dance with strawberry jam, he sang the always astonishingly different, an inflammation of the imagination, but endless song always the same song repeat, refrain, to himself, myself for myself, things just didn’t get any better, things just appeared in his mind: gizoo, gizoo, through my shoe, soaked Howdy Doody when he flew, rubber stegosaurus, walrus: goo goo g’joob.

Supermarket Music: The Royal Teens performed: ♫ (Ba, ba, ba, ba) ♫ (Ba, ba, ba, ba) ♫ (Ba, ba, ba, ba) ♫ (Ba, ba, ba, ba) ♫ At the hop

The eyes of the fish in the fresh fish case stared at him, and spoke spook to him in ghost fish words: blop bloop bop blop bloop: chorus of dead fish flesh: it is your heart you hear violently beating blop bloop bloop blood boo blop bloop bloop beat pounding like a giant crew of roofers a roofing crowers, pounding like a pack of dogs barking, dogs barfing, and Lou Reed sang: ♫ Doo do doo do doo do do doo ♫ Doo do doo do doo do do doo ♫ Doo do doo do doo do do doo ♫ Doo do doo do doo do do doo, She, cashette, there, the check-out line, which she did so well, seamstress stitching checkoutnesser, ♫Everybody had to pay and pay, he heard, his voice snapped in a mouse trap, squeal: in another line, go in another line, bag it, another line of poetry, and Lou Reed sang: ♫ Doo do doo do doo do do doo ♫ Doo do doo do doo do do doo ♫ Doo do doo do doo do do doo ♫ Doo do doo do doo do do doo. His ghost said: everything in the supermarket is a ghost, we only eat dead things, all the vegetables are dead, and rotting, and the fish, fish outa water, fish eye, and also the shit in cans, who knows what that shit is, and cans of soup? Her ghost said: that’s enough, I like Campbell’s chicken noodle, comfort food, and soap. His ghost said: so, you see the blob only eats living things, the blob has a healthy diet. Just appeared in his mind: gizoo, gizoo, threw my shoe, out the window it fucking flew, like Sue who could flew a rubber on you, from ten feet awayrus, walrus: goo goo g’joob. Hopeless. Gobbet Isle 2

Spanish anarchists held parts of the supermarket and distributed food using this principle: From each according to her ability, to each according to his need. Isle 2 was considered a liberated area, the notion of money was entirely eliminated, the spirt of cultural revolution abounded, editors no longer rejected, women made their own health and life choices, men made their own health and life choices, there were choices without religion, and churches turned into cowbarns, bookstores, supermarkets, and Larry’s ghosts said: I’m gunna put all beds in here, and the idea of free love was popular especially among the teenagers in The Blob. Isle 2 became a magnet for poets, some, who found literature’s rules impossible to obey, poets, like you, online magazine, memorize, magnetize, when the current creases the portion, potion.

Supermarket Music: The Clash performed: ♫ I’m all lost in the supermarket ♫ I can no longer shop happily ♫ I came in her for a special offer ♫ A guaranteed personality

He was enveloped, by shapelessers, by shoppers. He was enveloped by vegetables that squeezed vegetables, pimples, and his head was singing alphabet elephant, down by the water hole, Hatari! Volare! Down by the water hole stole my soul, ziggachew ziggachew ziggachew, yatish sweet dish, and figaty figaty uut. What sort of minds do they have his ghost wondered, and thought: ♫ It was an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini, mind, inside their small teeny tiny body of the villagers, a hollow within the body, sleepy hollow, a cavity in a tooth, the cranial cavity, it seemed they were hollow happy, lobotomy, happy cow pies. The first recorded use of cow pie was 1947. The frisbee was invented in 1947. In 1947 W.H. Auden published The Age of Anxiety. No more melancowlia, he just wanted to be happy as a cow: moooo, moot vex hex snout moon digging for a shroom. Mad cow is Bovine spongiform encephalopathy and is a neurodegenerative disorder that spreads to humans causing dementia and holes in his brain, like Swiss cheese (daily department), moth eaten, mineshaft, hollow, pigsty, snout moon digging for shrooms. There was the hamburger, package after package wrapped, comes with white Styrofoam dog dish. Dennis’s ghost said: I got some shrunes. His name was called by principal Alligator, and he in line went up on stage, his first time in four years, and he received his high school diploma, dip he thought, dip-loma, I am a dip, the dips were also over in the dairy department, dipllama, he thought, all the lines of poetry, all my lines begin now, picked and waiting to rot, down, in the dumps, a dumpster form. And his fellow students? They were all so happy standing in cow pies, waiting in lines, long lines for the three-minute ride, outside, amusement park rides go around and around, again around round, round as holes, and round predictable, planets, a marry-go-round death, an abundance of coffin.

Supermarket Music. The Five Blobs performed: ♫ Beware of The Blob, it creeps ♫ And leaps and glides and slides ♫ Across the floor ♫ Right through the door ♫ And all around the wall ♫ A splotch, a blotch ♫ Be careful of The Blob A Gobbet

His ghost said: without poetry my life would be nothing but a rubber glove. Something clicked in his head. Click click click, clack. His ghost said: without poetry my life would be nothing but a rubber glove, A yellow, yes pretty yellow, yellow, Playtex, rubber, glove. ♫ Around his neck he wore a rubber glove ♫ A yellow rubber glove for his girlfriend faraway ♫ Faraway… He always entertained himself, played, amused, solitaire, self-abuse, he’d go into his idle mind a meteor anda, stay there for hourly days, and emerge shower refreshed, Irish Spring, laughable, no wonder, little wonder, they turned up their noses at him, they thumbed their noses at him, they looked down their noses at him, nooses. His ghosts said: sorry, I’m unconscious, out cold. Her ghost said: he is a losing proposition, lose thread in his head, lost in space, lost for words, sour loser. She in his brain was not her, hot water. Her ghost was in the isle that time forgot, yogurt, yogart, in one ear.

Supermarket music. Muddy Waters sang: ♫ I am ready, as ready’s anybody can be ♫ I am ready, ready’s anybody can be ♫ I am ready for you, I hope you ready for me

Her ghost said: ah, here is the spaghetti, yeti spaghetti, his face was peeking out of the glassine of the spaghetti box in her hand, SETI, out of hand, when I grip his thick prick with my dick grip he’s in hog heaven, sleight of hand, she was holding her pee. Tomato Catsup, catchep, ketsupp, Tomato Catsup 2 for 29¢, Heinz Tomato Ketchup, America’s favorite Ketchup. His ghost said: makes me tick tomato, tamatoe tamatoe tamatoe tamatoe. Braintick. Her ghost said: he’s just a generic brand, boredom bland she thought, tasteless or with a taste like common carboard, white bread, eat Elmer’s paste, we could of at least gone steady, he was my watery coffee, cold, or cold dishwater, poetry, no not very good, blah, he gave me the blue blahs I gave him everything, why couldn’t he be Beelzebub, beabzu tee mate la hah moooo lamoo kissher, and chant: mum mm mum mum mummy mim (refrain). In hearing distance, lima beans, Lime-a, Peru, tissues, 12 for 99 and no can find keyboard cents sign. Her ghost said: why couldn’t he write about his grandmother’s bathrobe: My grandmother’s bathrobe Decorated with happy cats and excited dogs Tails up like exclamation points! And it made me feel warm inside But not hot like a faith fried egg Or a wraith of rubber gloves Hopeless, LOL she laughed like a ghost: ahahah ah ahahaHHHHAHAHAHAh. She was his wraith, I guess, he was her piece of shit, shit was all over the place, dipshit, when the shit hits the fan, shit sticks, he thinks his shit don’t stink, if it quakes like a duck it’s shit. Her ghost laughed again, louder, echoey: hahah ahahahaHAHAHaHaHHaaaaH. She picked up a package of Oscar Meyer’s ♫ Oh, I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Wiener ♫ That is what I’d truly like to be ♫ ‘Cause if I were an Oscar Mayer Wiener ♫ Everyone would be in love with me. Wiener roast, weenie roast, roost his wiener. Poetic justice.