Xypo-6 Decides to Buy Balloons

His name was Xypo-6, he was a robot. Gripping 28 balloons, he flew over his home planet Hubbbbvou while pondering his situation, which was precarious at best. Xypo-6 searched his database for any information pertaining to soaring 600 meters over rocky terrain (more specifically, the Gagaragamoomoo Mountains in the western hemisphere of Hubbbbvou). His memory scan produced nothing, not even a mere kilobyte of data; nada. "This is going to get worse before it gets better", he thought to himself as clouds whispered by. The ground descended further and further away. In his peripheral vision he spotted the reds, the greens and the purples of the latex treasures he had purchased just minutes before. But as the atmosphere grew darker, he realized he was entering deep space.

If only he would just let go.

Special Weekend Edition: About Rat Boy

I first met Rat Boy seven years ago while waiting in line for the Tubs O' Fun at the local carnival. Predictable music filled the air alongside smells of popcorn, corndogs and corn on the cob. I chewed candy corn impatiently as I once again checked my watch; it had been twenty-six minutes since I first placed myself in line. A small boy was staring at me uneasily as he held his father's hand. I stared back. The child's gaze suddenly widened while his jaw slowly opened. My eyes followed his stare catching a glimpse of a small creature of brown, blotchy fur. It was a boy, yet at the same time it was a rat. It was some kind of rat boy. Without a moment of hesitation, I began chasing this monstrosity into the darkness, uncontrollably drawn to the mysteriousness of a rodent creature with a human face. He scurried away but soon found himself cornered. "No use resisting Rat Boy", I said. Scooping him up, I gently placed him in my shirt pocket, patting him on his little balding head.

Frank's Clouds

Right off of Rt. 95 in downtown Philadelphia is the world's largest and most prestigious cloud factory. As you are passing the Cottman Avenue exit, look to your left (if you are heading south), you will see a giant, neon sign which reads "Frank's Clouds, Inc.", you can't miss it. They are the world's supplier of stratocumulus, cumulus congestus, altostratus undulatus and even cumulonimbus with mammatus. No matter your cloud necessities, Frank's expert cloud-techs will work directly with you to provide the clouds you need to your exact specifications. All on time and under budget.

And hey, be sure to tell 'em Yummy Hut sent you.


This was a paid advertisement for Frank's Clouds, Inc. Philadelphia, PA

Friday Haiku X

~CLEVELAND~

Manufacturing
Progress and prosperity

The forest city

No Use Crying Over Spilled Blue Paint

One glorious, sunny morning as singing birds gathered outside of my window, I went into the kitchen for a glass of water. Carelessly, I swung open the cabinet door whacking myself in the forehead; the impact sent me reeling backwards through the open basement door and down the steps with a repeated thud. I landed underneath a shelf which had been loosened by my fall overturning an entire bucket of blue latex paint which was now steadily flowing on top of my head. After a moment, I stood up feeling dizzy; everything was a swirl of blurry blue. Without realizing, I reached out towards my wood burning stove (I thought it was a support beam) trying to brace myself. Scream. Pain. Smell of flesh burning. Instantly I ran towards the sink for some cool water relief, but instead stepped on a poorly placed rake which slapped me in the face upon its swift upright positioning. Stumbling out of the back basement door, I bumped my knee on a circular saw as I made my way into the backyard; which incidentally is a field of cacti. Predictably, within moments, I had cactus pricks all over my body. That's when I noticed that at some point I had managed to get a glass jar stuck on my left hand. Pain was all I knew as I blindly tripped over a tricycle into a murky, alligator infested swamp. I sat up, wiped the mud from my face, clearing my vision just in time to see the alligator with its open jaw. Somehow my shirt was on fire. All in all, it was still the best day I had had all week.

Yummy Hut Guest Writer: Vladimir Nabokov

One of the greatest writers of the past century; Yummy Hut presents Mr. Vladimir Nabokov.

YUMMY HUT by Vladimir Nabokov

Yummy Hut, light of my life, fire of my mind. My blog, my soul. Yum-ee-hut: the tip of the tongue taking a trip three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Yum. Ee. Hut. Did Yummy Hut have a precursor? It did, indeed it did. In point of fact, there might have been no Yummy Hut at all had I not loved, one summer, a certain initial blog-site. In a  princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Yummy Hut was started as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.

Thanks Vlad! 

Friday Haiku IX

~PANTS~

Pleated brown chinos
Red sun, fades the blue denim
I fear acid wash

Yummy Hut Guest Writer: Dr. Seuss

Yummy Hut is proud to finally present the first installment of our "Guest Writer Series". We are honored to have Dr. Seuss as our first contributor.

BALLOON RACE by Dr. Seuss

The Funwazzles and Blandoodles at the town fair.
Catching balloons to fly through the air.
Red ones, blue ones, green ones and yellow.
"Nice work!" says Mayor Gumbunch, a round, jolly fellow.
A Funwazzle has three balloons, as he starts to fly.
A Blandoodle with four, begins to glide very high.
The sky is soon filled with flyers galore.
Blandoodles and Funwazzles gracefully soar.
Town folk cheer; they cheer and they cheer.
The flyers are specks that soon disappear.

Friday Haiku VIII

~I LIKE SEARS~

Three-spoke quill handle

An extra-large head casting

My Craftsman drill press

Friday Haiku VII

~TECHNOLOGY, SOMETIMES NOT SO COOPERATIVE~

Laptop malfunction
I press the keys; tap, tap, tap
Nothing happens; tap