A Few Excerpts From
The Book of Truths
By Rabbi Kef
First of Endless Verses of a Tavern Song
Her ass was so sweet it was a virtual prayer
Her mustache so long it entwined in her hair
She had only one breast, but it tasted the best
So lay with the mustached old woman
The Marching Song of Barnabus the Demon
(Author unknown and plans to keep it that way.)
He’s as tall as a mountain
As wide as the sea
His genitals hang with an impertinent slang
And he set his sights on me-ee
He set his sights on me
He’s Barnabus the De ee ee — mon
He has 82 arms
And 37 knees
He can fire out gases from a mere thirty asses
And he likes to look at me-ee
He likes to look at me
He’s Barnabus the De ee ee — mon
He’s as strong as an oxen
And tough as a tree
When his penises rise they scratch up the skies
And he makes great love to me-ee
He makes great love to me
He’s Barnabus the De ee ee — mon
Excerpts from the Book
Adam, Eve, and God
“You have eaten that which I commanded you not to eat. You must leave Eden and suffer,” said the Lord.
“Well, what about Eve?” Asked Adam petulantly. “She doesn’t get to stay if I have to go.”
“She will go with you as your helpmate.”
“Hey, how about she goes, I swear off apples and stay here?”
“No.”
“How about she and the porcupine’s wife leave?”
“No.”
“You know,” suggested Adam. “You need a gardener here. After all, there’s a lot of work to do. Things are growing wild, and animals need to be named.”
“All must leave,” said the Lord, greatly upsetting Queen Pharaoh, the original cat.
“How about if I find ten honest men…”
“There aren’t any men yet.”
“You couldn’t find me when I was hiding. Maybe this place is full of other men.”
“I’d know,” said the Lord, sighing.
“Maybe you can’t see them because they’re naked,” suggested Adam.
“Is this the beginning of man’s logic?” wondered the Lord.
“Can I take some angels to watch over me?”
“No.”
“How about some glory to dress in?”
“No.”
“Do you have anything for itchy rashes?” asked Adam hopefully, scratching under his poison ivy leaf.
“One more thing,” said the Lord, looking at the leaf. “As a sign of your new knowledge and the loss of your innocence and my promise that one day you will regain Paradise, I ask you, Adam, to offer me a piece of skin from the offending member.”
“You want me to cut Eve?” said Adam with hope.
God sighed. Man makes him sigh a lot.
“No,” He said patiently. “I want you to cut off your foreskin and your children’s and their children’s for generations forever. This will be a sign on your body of my eternal promise to those who worship me.”
Adam mulled this over for a while. “How about I cut off Eve’s?” he finally asked.
“She doesn’t have one,” answered God.
“The whole caboodle,” asked Adam quaking.
“No, just the foreskin,” answered God, wondering how Adam had already started using slang.
“Okay,” answered Adam. “What’s a foreskin?”
“That’s what I get for letting him name things,” thought the Lord. “Don’t worry, Adam, I’ll do yours.” He said aloud to his creation with some malice as a huge sword formed in the air. “It may hurt a bit, but not as much as life outside of paradise.”
As the sword descended, Adam cried bitter tears, as all male children of Israel have cried when being circumcised.
The Angel of the Three D's hitting on Viila, the most beautiful living woman, even though God has taken away the Angel's genitals.
“How can you still have desire?” Viila asked.
“A butt like yours would make the sun steam,” responded The Angel of Three D’s, making a sort of half-moon elliptical curvaceous motion with his hands and moving his tongue sensitively on his frothily gooey lips.
Viila, standing in the most holy place, the universe about to be destroyed, next to The Angel of Three D’s and facing a war of unimaginable proportions, smiled – a pretty, winsome, honest, true face smile.
“Thank you,” she said. Perhaps there are things worse than living forever. One thing is for sure, there is no logic in desire.
Barnabas the demon is about to eat the toes of the high priest of the mysterious Holy Sect of The Nose Bashers
“Clean enough for a snack, but I wish you’d wash that pinkie next time,” he advised. “Watch out teeth, watch out gums, watch out noses, here comes toeses.”
The High Priest, who had hoped to be a God, now found himself held upside down in an unbreakable grip by a poetic Demon about to snack on his toes. How the mighty fall.
“By the by,” said Barnabus conversationally, “I’m not sure anything can really die up here on the Mount. An irony that you will have plenty of time to consider as the pieces of you pass through myriads of digestive tracks to fall fitfully in various nasty places.”
The High Priest was as frightened as a man could be. He ransacked his mind for a defense, any defense, trick or bribe. Only one came to mind.
“Their feet taste better,” he yelled waving at the other priests. Barnabus stopped licking his toes and looked interested. He turned to the eldest priest and savored him with an eye.
“I taste terrible,” said the eldest priest quickly.
“I taste worse,” said another.
“I never wash my feet,” offered another and added “I also have a terrible fungus infection.”
“Green or red?” queried Barnabus with interest.
“Green.”
“Too bad,” mumbled Barnabus, “I don’t really like vegetables.”
“You don’t even want to know what I taste like,” offered another.
One priest broke down into tears. “My mother wouldn’t even eat my toes,” he cried. Barnabus nodded sympathetically. He had the same problem.
“OK, I believe you,” said Barnabus, easily holding the High Priest by the ankles with two strong hands and using a third one to delicately wipe a little sand off a pinky toe with a tickling motion.
“I just love the pure clean taste of extremism,” Barnabus said studying the wiggling toes.
“Bottom’s up,” he brayed and raised the High Priest so his feet were even with his toothiest mouth.
Viila spends a moment considering Farting
Milton was much more histrionic; he turned his butt to his father and made a thoroughly long and wet fart noise.
Viila lifted an eyebrow. As a vampiric being, she never farted and the whole idea of a noisy gaseous outflow through the rectum was strange to her. “Was it fun?” she wondered. “Humans often laughed when they made that sound. Was it a secret communication? Did humans secretly use the noise as a party game or a sexual practice?” So much was hidden from her.
A lesson plan for how to make a Teraphim, which is a biblical talking head.
Once you had a proper head, you carefully cut out the tongue at its praying root and laid it carefully aside to keep any stray dogs and cats from eating it. The head was then pickled for one month for the head’s every year of life, plus one for the pot, in a sour salty mash that included at least one secret, one scatological, one ordinary and one purple ingredient. Once the head was thoroughly pickled, it was buried in hot salt with a few, day old, magical foreskins. They were left for three days and a good sandstorm. If a camel urinated on the spot it was considered excellent luck.
The head was dug up and ritually cleaned and anointed with four of the five sacred oils. The head was placed in a shallow silver bowl with a Shamir – a worm that was created in the sixth day of Genesis and could cut through anything – which immediately bored to the center of the skull activating the holy areas of the brain. After that, it bored into the mouth and became the new root of the tongue.
A sanctified golden plate engraved with a few letters of the ineffable name of God was sewn to the tongue with silver threads and the tongue was replaced carefully in the mouth. To make sure it would heal the head was then placed between a prostitute’s legs with its mouth pointed at the sacred vessel of birth for a month. The prostitute, of course, had to be paid for her time in sacred coin.