There was an enigma, it raced faster than the speed of sound across the desert, without a whir, and it came grinding to untimely halt and the animating dream came crashing out of its glass-windowed head. There it lies, broken-down for many eons.

Its empty head has become pitch black as the endless void. Its metal frame has rusted and peeled in deep mahogany flakes.

Its body flecked in forlorn surreal magic, and like a magnet it pulls on the inner existential framework of our lives and the stories they generate. This book is a collection of those stories almost lost to the deluge of time, stories bent and warped into wanton absurdities by the magic rust of a rundown enigma.

A strange magic is at work in them, a mischievous magic, a surreal magnetism that promulgates our stories into the tall tales they long to be. Tales whose source is shoddy and moral lesson nonexistent or iffy at best.

Vulgar and Irreverent. May they entertain you, perplex you, or offer you something to fidget over like a cheap toy from a cracker jack box.

-from the introduction. .