Captain Don't Ask Again

Captain Vaguely-Unpleasant Odor came by last week but this time, at least, chose not to linger.

Captain Underpants doesn't even have a decent raincoat.

Captain Unrelenting Dry Heaves does not often find himself invited to parties anymore. (Things were different when we were all so much younger.)

Captain Twerb is still looking for a reason to exist or a decent logo, whichever manifests itself first. He's pretty well given up on ever having even a reasonably-intimidating costume by now, so his options are quickly fading.

Captain Tutti-Frutti probably needs no introduction, right? You already know where this could go, so what's the point then? Right?

Captain Twelve-Inch Swagger Stick has been repatriated to his century of birth.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? I actually wasn't going to.

Lonesome Alone Again

I am the Lonesome Cowboy. If you know my name you do not speak it. If you speak my name you do not know me. If you see me I am not there. If you miss me, you miss another. It is not me. I do not care.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, quite content to be no one, to be needed nowhere, and to be again completely free of any schedule.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, pulling cactus prickles from my shin, humming a dour tune, mouthing a sad refrain. Humble before the sky, wet and chill in each rain, I hobble along, always alone, ignoring all pain.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy, sitting, breathing in the chill night air, waiting, for dawn. It must surely come some day.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy. Call me Jed. Or Ned, or Ted, or Fred. No matter, I answer to all, to one as well as another, it seems, and am unsure, even to this date, what my true name may be, if even there was such a thing, and if so, I truly know it not, so then, Jed will do fine for now. Or Ed, or Ned.

I am the Lonesome Cowboy. I have wandered the borders of many a town but have rarely gone in to any. My friends are the stars, the wind, the dust, and tumbleweeds, also known as Russian thistles, an invasive species, not unlike me, perhaps.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Well, not saying more for now, until I identify that suspicious smell.

Ima Momma's Boy

You know that cat lady down the street? That's me. Mom and I each have 10, and we wear matching cowboy outfits too.

You know what? Mom said I could come over and annoy you, so let's get started then. Try running away and see what happens.

Well, I tried the other thing and that wasn't any better. Maybe I should ask Mom, get advice from the dead. Hey Mom — you still dead over there or what? Sounds like it. Snoring. Snores of the dead. I wish I could sleep like that.

What do you do with a bucket of tentacles and wary eyeballs? Mom might know, but she's on vacation this year.

The trouble with being handsome is that I just keep getting better. That's what Mom says. She often lies in between rounds of poker though.

Thinking of going into agriculture, and growing hair. There's always a demand for hair. Mom told me that, and she's pretty hairy. Sounds about right.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Can't say I remember you that often.

First Things Right, On Schedule

The first thing that happened today was diarrhea. I can't wait to see what's next. Surprise me, Life, I dare you to try.

The food is here, but I'm not. This happens all too often these latter days. Now I have to check and see if I actually exist.

The haggis days of summer: coming soon, I bet.

"The highest purpose is to have no purpose at all. This puts one in accord with nature, in her manner of operation." -- John Cage This is also the motto of The Institute for the Growing Catastrophe, brought to you by The Home Shouting Channel.

There are no crevasses in Bananaland, unless they're in the fruitcake, but that is an elusive terrain.

There once was a time when a fur coat couldn't get elected to public office without someone inside it. True.

 

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Have anything worth adding? Then try sosayseff@nullabigmail.com
Me? Diarrhea. I mean, hey. Weren't you listening?