The Long Walk Home

When Uncle Poot finished at the factory and headed home, he could always tells when he rounded FM 101 whether Marda Lee (wife #16) was in a foul mood or not.

What Pinky Cooked for Christmas Dinner

The Ear with Which God Hears Your Prayers

Selfish and ridiculous prayers are exuded back out of the ear in the form of a thick. pink ooze that falls to earth and causes much unhappiness.

Little Known Hamlet Fact

Ophelia is one of the tiniest moons in the solar system and orbits Uranus. Poor Ophelia has always gotten a bum rap.

Pinky has Presided Over Some Odd Funerals

Pinky Diablo: Mind Reader Extradordinaire

Where Babies Come From: Pinky's Amazing Journey from a Seed to a Newborn

Tiny Icarus

Diablo Inc. executives were Googling Pinky's name (as well as his alter ego's) and found this tiny sculpture that Pinky made years ago. It showed up on a recent Dallas art tour site. They also found a photo of a Chicago area fan wearing a bootleg Pinky Diablo t-shirt. (The wearer shouldn't worry too much--the marketing execs don't communicate well with the legal dept. here at Diablo Inc.)

Pinky Hates Performance Art

And this was the worst his has ever seen!

Is Pinky Obsessed with Death or Just Innards?

The Last Paragraph in Pinky's Latest Short Story

Suddenly the rain and thunder stopped. Dora tiptoed to the stove, which was now covered in grease and filth and stench, and looked into the pot. The grease was gone. Most of the okra was gone. But at the very bottom, against the side, was one perfectly fried piece of okra—delicately browned, crisp, but with a jeweled green shining through the cornmeal. Dora knew that soon her husband would return, followed by the Sumners with the citizens of the county in tow. Angry.Pock-marked. Maimed. Destroyed. In that one final moment of private regret, she popped into her mouth the most delicious fried morsel of okra she had ever tasted or tasted since.

Don't Laugh--Pinky Often suffers from This Malady

Between the 15th and 17th centuries, Taranto, Italy was hit by a dance craze unlike any other. The town was afflicted by a malady that would come to be known as "tarantism" and was characterized by a hysterical impulse to dance. Some people claimed tarantism was caused by the bite of the European wolf spider, which is also known as the tarantula (and is also named after Taranto); such folks declared that dancing off the venom was the only cure. Musicians supposedly traveled to the region to help cure the epidemic, and some believe that the Italian folk dance called the "tarantella" resulted from the craze (though it is also possible that the name of that dance derived independently from "Taranto" and has no connection with "tarantism").

Last Night Pinky Dreamed he Flew to Africa to Save the Savanna Creatures

It was a happy dream until he landed.

Excerpt from Pinky's Latest Short Story

excerpted from

Death Becomes Her

Seven Very Short Cautionary Tales to Bring Children Closer to the Buddha

Or

The Secret and Horrible Fears of Divorced, Spinstered, or Widowed Women of a Certain Entitled Stature Contemplating Death

Every action, every thought she now made led her down an evil rabbit hole of fear. She thought about the horror of putting on her peignoir—then, putting it on, it clung and burned her flesh like flaming napalm. She feared even lifting her padded house shoe. The first step toward the grapefruit half was on frozen shards of glass, the next step found her sinking in piles of red-hot ball bearings. The next was worse. She sliced the grapefruit with her eyes closed, knowing what it was becoming--a beating heart pumping her apartment full of tepid black blood. She closed her eyes and saw her father, resplendent with twisting horns embalming her mother alive. Eyes opened and writhing snakes and giant cockroaches with the saints’ faces rained down in her garden outside the breakfast nook window. She would hold her breath and try to keep the fear away for a fleeting moment. Then gasping for air, thousands of dry, cottony moths would fly down her throat. Eyes closed, she would try no to move, only to know without looking that there was a wave of fear cresting over her head, inches from her scalp ready to break as soon as she moved even a hair--a wave of liquid fear chock full of bloody teeth with their roots still pulsating--a wave with the sound of millions of feeble, aged hips snapping in unison--a wave of bloody lingerie filled with the pulpy remains every miscarriage ever suffered in Earth’s short tenure.
Now, children, use you imagination for a few minutes and think about what else could be in that soup of hideousness washing over Shermanora…Every disgusting, unfathomable fear found its way into this abominable recipe. What could any of us do against the unstoppable force of such terror? It is absolutely unimaginable. This hurricane of revulsion powered by the winds of Shermanora’s Fear washed away all time and place. Whether she actually died (which we can only assume she did) was irrelevant for her. She was swept away, pulled under, spit out, tied down, dismembered, and confronted with every unspeakable ghastly deed and apparition her Fear could possibly conjure up. We imagine a vast putrid ocean of gristle and slime with Shermanora, infinitesimally small, sometimes floating, sometimes pulled under into the dark, wet awfulness. Endlessly deep. Endlessly cruel. With ever increasing horrors spiraling up from the coagulated depths to nibble on Shermanora’s peignoir hem for eternity.

The Mind of Pinky

If you take out the giraffes, the branches, the birds, trees, and telephone poles and wire (and maybe the clouds), you would have a pretty good idea of the mind of Pinky Diablo 99% of the time.

Pinky Ate Ice Cream Before Bed Time and Had This Horrifying Nightmare

Pinky is the New St . Francis

Pinky has been performing last rites to dying animals since he was a small child.

Death is a Golden Trucker on the I-45 of Life

(photo courtesy of Granny D)

Stalking Pinky

Every day this mysterious woman spends all morning in front of the Okapi exhibit.

How Many Birds Die Every Day?

Every night Pinky says a prayer for every bird that died that day. There are a lot of damn birds in the world, and Pinky is tired of praying so much.