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28/365 – Meet the Marsh-Boo-lows
© 2011 Timmy Tamisiea. All rights reserved. IMG_1026

28/365 – Meet the Marsh-Boo-lows

Megan and I are headed to a Halloween Party tonight.  Yeah!   I love Halloween.  More than Christmas.  Tonight is a night of firsts.  It’s our first Halloween as a married couple.  My first time doing a couple costume (the Maitlins – wait till Monday’s post).  It’s also to first time I’ve baked something especially for Halloween.  Granted, it came from a box at Target, so my creativity wasn’t in the idea but the content.

Basically, we bought a kit where you bake brownies and then place large marshmallows on top, drizzle them with either green frosting (goblins) or white frosting (ghosts).  Then you place eyes and on them and decorate them with features of your design.  They’re awesome.  So awesome I’m starting a Saturday morning cartoon called the Marsh-Boo-Lows!  Want to meet them?  Yeah, that’s what I thought.


Meet Bosco.  Bosco is a special little goblin . . . I made a social short bus for him out of a hallowed out pumpkin but Bosco refused to ride it.  Everyday Bosco liks to take his little kitten Francis (left side) and his little teddy bear (Christopher Columbus III) for a walk and stares into the sky wondering if there’s more out there than his feeble existence.  He nuzzles with Francis and Hugs CCIII, drooling marshmallow goodness all over himself and he gets an answer . . . and the voice says, “Yes, Bosco, there is a place for you . . . and it’s in my freaking mouth!”  CHOMP!

Crystal Meth!

 Ladies and gentlemen – meet home grown drug user Crystal Meth.  She’s a little whipper snapper – literally.  She used to be the main attraction at the Skokie Side Show Week where she snapped whips.  Now, she’s homeless, drugged out and has grown extra eyes to account for her increased paranoia from increased drug use.  Whenever she gets high, she has this urge to hump pumpkins – as seen above.  That pumpkin’s name is “pumpkin.”  It’s Crystal’s favorite . . . for me to stick into my mouth.  CHOMP!


Damn-it, Dumplins!  This crazy old coot hails from Worcester, MA and she’s one dumb ol’ broad – with her blue eyes and astigmatism.  She’s constantly wandering away from the old folks home and gazing in wonder at everything.  She also thinks everything is her son Oliver, “Oliver, did you get that job at Woolworths.  School ain’t gonna pay for itself.”  Damn-it, Dumplins – that’s not Oliver.  It’s my mouth!  CHOMP!


This is how all marshmallow goblins and ghosts visualize god.  Because it is god.  A weird Might Morphin Power Ranger version of god where all the separate pieces come together to form a single more powerful being.  I’m gonna eat your god!  CHOMP!


Aloysius is a crazy mo-fo!  He a veteran of the Franko-Prussian War.   This guy single handedly took down a French battalion armed only with his own battalion all while never brushing his teeth – I mean, look at those cavities.  He lost his eye while single handedly poking his eye out with his d=single hand.  He now has a creepy/delicious fake eye he pulls out to scare his kids.  Here, Aloysius, take your eye back . . . it’s in my mouth.  CHOMP!

Forrest Whitaker!

This is actually Forrest Whitaker.  The actor.  Without his hollywood makeup.  You can tell by the weird eye – all crooked and not looking at me.  Yeah, Forrest, you better start Crying Game because you’re about to become The Last King Of Scotland as I Ghost Dog you in my mouth!  CHOMP!

Three Eyed Willy!

This demonic little goblin makes his living selling old Super Nintendo games on eBay.  He then blows all his earnings on specially ordered three-lens contact lenses for his three eyed deformity.  You’d thin a guy with three eyes would stop loosing his contact lenses.  Idiot.  Get in my mouth!  CHOMP!

Sally “The Worrier” McMarshy!

She just keeps looking up.  She thinks the International Space Station is going to crash into the planet soon and she’s not going to miss it.  That’s not the space station, honey.  That’s my – CHOMP!

Chico & Allan (STREET SMARTS)

I call this vignette STREET SMARTS.  You see, the ghost there, that’s Chico, a former gang member.  You can tell by the tear drop tattoo on his cheek.  When he was 16 he shot Mr. Goodbar in a drive by.  Well, Chico did his time and 30 years later he’s free, balding and trying to get mallows off the streets.

Allan, though, is having none of that shit.  You can tell by his disrespectful smirk and the way he’s flexing his muscles like he’s all that.  he won’t even look Chico in the face.  “You’re heading for sticky times, my friend.  Sticky times.”  Chico, it’s not getting through to him.  Here’s some tough love – in my mouth.  CHOMP!  CHOMP!  Now you can advise the little gang banger in my belly.


No one ate the little pieces of art . . . because they were pieces of art.  So I ate the guests.  CHOMP!

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