So two guys walk into a bar and they both get bloody noses. Two days later they decide to walk into a brick wall in case the first time was a fluke. Mom says I need a new hobby. And bandages.
There's a sale on Freds over by Fred Meyer. Buy one, get a free cookie. Probably better than the TooferOne wall deal down by Walmart, or the discount shears at Sears, the Three-for-A-Penny promotion at J.C.P., the Double-Or-Nothing Woolly-Mammoth-Excavate-It-Yourself at F.W. Woolworth or the Slightly-Used Cancer Ward Special at Montgomery Ward. Possibly.
I am the Lonesome Cowboy, tapping away along alley walls past midnight, a slight but fading taste of beer still on my lips, hoping to find a last final star yet in the sky to whisper to, briefly, before I yield to sleep.
Captain Obvious has been building a wall around his property. He has 14 square inches of turf he calls his own over by the storm sewer drain, next to the discarded fruit peels. Since he is slow to over-commit, the wall is built of sugar cubes, a prototype of sweetness.
Of what use would a wall comprised solely of used overcoats be, assuming that each was thoroughly dry-cleaned?
Never had much use for walls, except for that once, during the staring-contest mania days. My angle? Paint a couple of eyes on your wall, challenge the first dooter you see, then go home for a nap.
Have extra info to add?
If the commenting system is out again, then email sosayseff@gmail.com
Me? Passed the tuber this morning.
