There are flies in here. But no one is wearing pants. Very suspicious.
There has never been a public monument to hormones, and no one wonders why. Conspiracy?
There is no cure for asparagus poisoning.
There seem to be lots of rats in my apartment lately. I haven't sold that many tickets either. Will have to find out who's letting them in without paying.
There was a crooked man who had a crooked smile, and walked a crooked walk and farted a lot too. Generally the sort of person worth avoiding, if you know anything.
Then what?
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Me? I'm around here somewhere.
The mucus conspiracy choir — coming to a sofa near you, real soon now. Watch where you sit!
The monkey finally came home to roost. (He likes chickens.)
The music in this restaurant is definitely too loud. One of the waiters just burst into flames, but they really don't take it seriously. The rest of them are clustered around, hopping to the music and roasting marshmallows on sticks. I can't wait for dessert. After that, they'll remove the cuffs and let me out. If they weren't fibbing for chuckles.
The music piped into this restaurant is so loud that my toenails fell out. Which drew dozens of rats from somewhere, all swarming like crazy, chittering away. That happens all too often in these parts.
The twelfth of April. The day I finally admitted that I am an ape. And have a pretty decent butt for an old creepy ape.
There is a door across the street, in a building, and the door is closed. I don't know what this means, but it could mean something, at least in an alternate universe where doors are really significant, high-status artifacts that people worship, and leave snacks for, and so on, but I don't think that things work that way around here. Am I right, or just clueless?
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Me? Not that flexible any more.
Thanks. I don't know what I'd do without you. Even though you're imaginary. Right? Am I right? Still, even so, I can assume that you taste good.
That chipmunk that tried to set me on fire? Honest mistake. It only wanted a roasted nut.
That giant eyeball in the sky has been watching me again. At least it isn't the giant runny nose always trying to sniff my pants. I hate that.
That thumping sound in the background — it's a thumper in the background, thumping. My neighbor doesn't know how to do anything quietly.
The food on the menu tastes funny, and there isn't enough of it. Maybe if I order some on a plate it might be better. At least it would be on a plate. I suppose. One would hope, eh?
The sky was full of wizards last week. It was all wizards, everywhere, sky-wise. I don't have any idea what that was all about, but there you are — wizards, all up in the sky, all week, up to no good that I could identify. Not especially noisy, though now we do have wizard droppings all over our roofs again.
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Me? I'm usually like that.
You ask me what I would order if I could have any dish at all? How about a plate of creamed spinach, served on a Maserati? Hold the spinach, but maybe I could use the plate for something, I don't know, not going to worry about it, unless I get really hungry.
Yes, I did meet a woman. I met a woman. Who didn't run away screaming. When she saw me. So my spirits rose. Considerably, mostly. She was in a shop window. Didn't twitch or even bat an eye. They were painted on and full of permanent meaning. I'll have to get back there. See if she still feels the same. About me. This may be my chance. At big romance. I hope, I do.
Yeah — monkey juice is pretty good for a lot of things, but it has to be fresh-squeezed, and you need the unpasteurized stuff. You can tell you've got the real item because it has hair in it. Maybe even some turds.
Would you be doing it if no one was watching? Captain Telepromter wants to know. No one else does though.
Wild Bill Hiccup — could never sneak up on anyone. Later became a standup accountant. Maybe you've never heard of him.
Why is it that composers of classical music are the only ones to have noisy movements? I do too, but nobody performs mine. Or even wants to listen. Even for free. Is it the grunting? The location? Something about me being a solo performer? Should I get a baton to keep time and move things along? Change my diet? What?
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Me? I always keep my flippers well oiled. You betcha.
