"And then they lived happily ever after" sounds a lot like hell. A place for those who buy on credit and think they live in the best of all possible worlds.
"Death Wears My Shoelaces", a dramatic short poem by Arten Sphinctly, Jr. (Page under construction. To be continued in 1997.)
"Do you have IPA today?" I asked the sparrow. "No, I'm a bird, you twit — go ask the squirrel." So I did. Still no beer.
"Even an hour's worth of typing can't get you there from here", my guru said. That was, of course, the bad news. The good news is that I don't have a typing guru. Nobody does. I'm all alone out here — just me, a keyboard, and six reams of paper. What was the question?
"God only knows", they said, which might be where all the splitting headaches are coming from. So glad to be retired from all that.
"I heard you were a reasonable person," he said, so I sat down and thought about it. #IfIPlayAlongIMightGetParoledSooner.
The "I Love Dogs" canine rendering kit. Buy two. Now.
"New logon to Twitter from an unknown location using a weenie on a stick." I'm showing more imaginative use of available materials then?
"Nostril". Meaning "no stink", which is why I put earplugs in mine. Ears, however, are too small for butt plugs.
"Second-Rate Three Course Meals: My life among the spoon people", by Edward Cheff, Chief Chef of the Double Clef Gang.
"Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm." Supposedly from Winston Churchill. (Dead.)
"Tbla", I said, not thinking straight. Now I've gone and been deported.
"Three-Penny Chopper", an opera on two wheels, by Armour Swarthopple, Renegade of the Negotiable Brigade.
"We've gone formless." — Fred Meyer
"Xavier me lo digo." That's what I always tell people. Or I try sock puppet pantomime. Or run away.
"You're a dick, Ted", Dick said to Ted, absentmindedly (since his mind was absent that day, and in fact was at that very moment enjoying a plate of fried pork bits with cheese sauce and vodka not on, but very near to the beach). Things could have been worse — very, very much worse, as we all know they can be. But not today. Today, Ted only punched him in the mouth and headed for the beach where pork bits were being served in cheese sauce.
'If I knew you better,' she said, 'I wouldn't like you that much. But considering that It's Thursday, I'll make a sandwich.'
'It's probably beef,' she said, staring at my pants, 'but I'm only here for the pork chops.'
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See if that helps.
