Ed (Jimbo) Sauron MMCCCXXVIII came through town, preceded by dread but they were street dancing after he demonstrated proper flaying technique on local bureaucrats.
Ed Grunch. Used to know her. We ate candy bars under the bleachers and then puked on each other. Seemed like fun at the time.
Ed said I'd have fun today. I hope he's right. I'm tired of hanging by my thumbs.
Ed's Very Own Original French Toast: (1) Toast bread. (2) Mail it to France. (3) Kill time or take a nap or whatever. (Ed's OK with that.)
French diaper wine.
Frenchie fried my fangs in foofie sauce. Yet again.
Ants in France. Again.
Mama told me not do do that any more, so I put her in a box and mailed her to France. France — a place I'll never forget, assuming I visit sometime, but I bet Mom fits right in.
So on the lunch menu today is "Stuffed Frances". For only $2.75. And to think that in high school she wouldn't go anywhere near that concept, let alone talk to me.
Albert took the boat. Went somewhere. Meanwhile, the bank repossessed his entire ant farm collection but left the ants to keep me company.
Ants never gamble. Did you ever think of what that means?
Gotta pocket fulla ants. A gift from my aunt. She couldn't eatem all. #LizardsOnParade
I bet ants never get headaches or just, somehow, forget to file their taxes for two decades.
I feel like a doughnut today. Rich. Creamy filling. Dripping with chocolate sauce. Sprinkled with bitsy sprinkles. Attractive to ants.
I've been talking to the ants. Could be a whole new source of information. My feelers are all a-wiggle.
It's noisy in here. Even the ants are dying from the music. Still, I have to say that they have the tastiest soap in town.
January 23, 1886: "Dear Diary, I found more ants in the strong box. That must mean something. Meanwhile, no news from Dick about the thing."
Joe is updating the menu as we speak, according to what people bring in. May be either boiled ants or fried pig. Can't really tell from here.
I made a mistake today. Turned out well though. Entirely composed of previously-composted compotes. And sawdust, but it adds a level of sophistication, and, too, smells like sawdust, which is my favorite ice cream flavor from way back. And then, when I was all done the ants got it, so now it's their mistake. Ha!
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See if that helps.
Me? Currently between naps.
