Everything From A To B

Fuzz. That's the next big thing. I'm buying in now while the getting is good. Next week I'm purchasing a heater so I can make warm fuzzies. Going to sell them from my own fuzzy truck to lonely office workers who need a little warmth. Sandwiches too — eventually a complete menu I think.

It's snake-handling day at the office today, but really — isn't it always?

Nice to see you. I saw your photo down at the Post Office under miscellaneous misanthropes and recently-executed politicians. Which are you?

First cousin perfectly offices juvenile enjoy forbade miles company denied sweetness. I'll second that one immediately.

Saw the cat go by on his motorcycle. Things were more fun before he got his license. Sure, independence and all, but I miss the company. I hear he just got promoted to engineering supervisor, so I expect that he'll be buying his own house soon.

Mom didn't raise me to be an ordinary dummy. She expected me to go into middle management.

 

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Me? Recently recycled.

Xirkling The Drian

Heading for home on a wing and a prayer. Wish I had two wings though. Mostly going in circles today. Plus, a few people in funny hats have been shooting at me. Pooping on them doesn't seem to help.

Have seen several fish with bicycles lately, but no women.

I recently returned from a summit meeting with the head of North Korea. He said he would give me anything I asked for as long as I follow him on Twitter and say he's not really a dick head, major concessions on my part, sure, but WTF why not? So easy. And I've always wanted a tricycle.

Marty washed his pants the smart way. Crawled into the machine and stayed put through the rinse, and most of the spin cycle, then did a few laps around the inside of the dryer. I took him to the hospital myself. He'll be out in a few weeks and ready for court. He's hoping to clear a few hundred thou after expenses, and never work again. Only slight residual brain damage, so it's an effective bump up in working IQ, all told.

Timmy, the Used Tire Titan. Stop by for the region's best deals on assorted, frayed, flaccid round rubbery rings. If you dare.

Mom got mad when I said I'm not a Christian any more, but she's dead and I'm not, so who won that round?

If miss part by fact he park just shew. Other than that, I'm really not sure about much any more.

 

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Me? Got cable now, but no ship to tie to the dock.

Votemeal, The Breakfast Of Thoughts

Very few vegetables can hold up the other end of a conversation. Or a stick.

Conway calling, Conway calling. Hello?

The sewer was shut off this week. Now what do I do?

"You know, for a serial killer, you're not that bad." My last 14 girlfriends. All really nice gals. Seldom forgotten.

If I were an artichoke, I would be tastier, and also less prickly.

Ducks are not especially good at poker except compared to me.

We need more holidays -- could use a cherry pit carnival, coming around in late summer, right after Lint Fest. What do you think?

I craved something sweet so I wrote a poem about my cat. After reading it the cat hanged itself. Maybe I'll knit mittens next time.

Why has no one invented freelance banking?

Why is it so hard to write something clever about a crevasse? Some of them have a really great sense of humor, considering that they're giant cracks full of nothing but gravity, darkness, and death.

A girl scout tried to sell me her cookies, but I declined because I suspected that they had already been eaten at least once.

Wilson E. Durwiddy was my great uncle's competitive diction coach. Back when there were whole gang wars over proper expression. Long forgotten now, I'm afraid, all of it.

 

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Me? Recently bit something. Now the cat seems pissed.

Surgery By Mail

A guy just broadcast a bunch of excellent crunchy popcorn but I'll have to get my knee pads on and eat real fast if I want to beat the ducks to it.

All...uh...look. Have never seen any of these people before. In fact, I have no idea where I am or how I got here. I could just relax and enjoy the feeling except that I'm tied to this post, all surrounded by piles of wood, and the ropes are uncomfortably tight. OK — hang on a sec — here comes a guy with a torch. He looks nice enough. Maybe I can ask him for a bit of help.

Avocado guy is back. I'm not sure I know what to think of him. He has a gray mustache. I don't. Could be that he's a professional avocado trainer, but then, why does he eat them — or is it only an avocation? Hmmm.

Lunch will be here shortly. I just saw the guy catch the chicken. I think it was our guy. Same chicken as last week though.

Suffering a bit from one of those random stray headaches, but what can you do? It followed me home. I think it belongs to the loud guy down the block who's always having those all-nighter parties. Will go by there later on and see if I can stuff it into his mailbox while no one is looking.

Yeah, another guy from the Class of 1966 was Grover Icenogle. And there was Egwan Spelmanus. Can't forget him. Melvin Mortvedt too (1967). Things got strange after that.

 

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Me? Got my hat. Still looking for the rest.

Excessively, Very Great Inflation

I saw a cloud in the sky. Only one. And then it silently faded away.

The clouds are all out today, wetting on people, bumping into each other. One of them chased me home from the restaurant. This can get old if you live long enough.

Where do clouds go after they finish urinating on us?

I saw a fish today. It pretended not to see me back. Very suspicious. Will probably take a different bus from now on.

I saw Kaye last night. She was doing a 10K. There were 10 of her there. Smart gal.

Nuts. Nuts are falling from the sky, like nuts. As nuts do, at times. And now the cat is on fire again. This is Monday, isn't it?

Saw that eye watching me through that same hole in the sky again. Strongly resembles one of Jeff Bezos'.

 

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Me? Will need to be reinflated soon.

Invisible Necessities

At least there is air in here. Some boxes don't even have that. Just $1000 a month too.

A job selling air to bag ladies could be in your future. Enquire within. (No pet lizards, please.)

If air was free, would we still have to pay for it? (Asking for an oxygen breather.)

Oct 1, Tue, Cuenca airport, Ecuador, 7:20 p.m., Guayaquil time. Why the fuck am I doing this? Ditto, 7:45 p.m. This is odd — I almost feel like I belong here. Maybe that is not a good thing. Atlanta, &;00 a.m. I still don't know. Muggy here too. Snoring sounds everywhere.

People ask why I have 200,000 shoeboxes in my collection. They'll all come begging when we run out of air. Or they need a place to keep their fingernail clippings. Either way I'm set for life.

I found a giant propeller yesterday. It was just sitting there, attached to a plane at the airport. My lucky day, I guess — I've been needing one of these for years. Getting it into my knapsack was somewhat awkward, as was, as you might have guessed, bringing it home in a taxi (generous tipping can perform miracles on slow days). Mom would be proud but she's dead these days, so whatever, you know?

 

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Me? Who can say?

Spray Painting For The Dead

Saw Dad yesterday, down by the charter boat docks. They were cutting him into chunks to use as fish bait. "Chum", they call it. He always wanted people to call him "Chum", and now he's it. Earned it fair and square, and we won't need to keep chasing him down and re-burying him every week or so — it's going to be something like a dispersed burial this time. Let's hope it takes.

I never knew Dad very well. He died while I was really bored and not paying attention, and kind of young. Even though he wouldn't stay buried, dealing with him was mostly catch-and-release, or in his case, catch-and-rebury, so it was never like we had a close relationship or anything, and anyway, he smelled bad. Really bad. Dead people are like that for some reason.

Yeah well, Dad. He was on the TV news again last night, seen running naked through downtown. He's giving the whole family a bad name. First, there's that naked stuff, and then he just will not stay buried, no matter how deep we dig the hole.

Dad came by for a visit yesterday. I've moved five or six times just to avoid this, but it never seems to help. So I had to toss him into the back of the truck and haul him back to Happy Forever Cemetery and Toxic Waste Dump, and re-bury him yet again.

Dad's been pretty active lately. Dug himself out of his grave four times this week and scared the chickens so much that they moved to Florida.

I recently befriended a rat. Said he was a friend of my dad, which makes some sense. Makes a lot of sense, given what I know now.

They found Dad on top of the radio tower, naked again, and howling. How he got out of the grave this time we may never know. I only wish he'd been this much fun while alive.

 

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Me? Found a comb in my beard. Didn't know I had a beard.

Pee Here, Pee Now

Behind Door Number Three we have a bucket of pee. Lucky you, avoiding the maggot stew behind Door Number Two.

If I were 10 feet tall I could pee on your head.

Pee tea. That's what did it.

Pretty soon now something will happen. If I just wait long enough. Also, I have to pee. This happens a lot.

Wednesday Over Easy: Get up to pee. Go back to bed. Stay there.

What's in it? I wondered, so I opened it, looked up, and saw myself peering down into my house. Can't take a piss in peace around here.

 

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Me? Still sawing through the bars.