She walked into a fist at 3am. It wasn’t a pleasant 3am fist either; it had bare knuckles that bruised the nose. The fist’s name was Norman. It was brutal and unkind...
Two longlegged creatures named Seth met at a windmill. The first Seth was an ostrich, the second a horse. The horse Seth shouted above the din of the windmill "We are here for a good reason.’" The ostrich Seth chortled “You know it best...”
Out of an outhouse shouted a mouse: “I shit thee not – yet you shit in large, lumpen pots!”
Into a street-corner Quigley cantered a curmudgeon. The curmudgeon was Gaelic, his name was Waylan. And the Quigley was for snooping...
Eleven of my best friends exploded themselves on a bus in Yemen. It was group terrorism gone haywire...
From the great pizzamaking genius of the age came an idea to distribute cheesy delectables to the third world. The pizzas of Sancho Silverthorne were delightful and succulent. Things unlike butter, yet buttery. Things sweet and tawdry they were not...
Of potions, Winston sampled many. Of jewel thieves he knew a dozen. Of lashmaking hooligans he acquainted himself and stole away slurping. It was slurpee season in the post office where Winston toiled, sorting mail, shipping it, opening it illegally and cracking his toes like a man who invented a more delicious lasagna...
What weapons there were in the attic did not interest Giles Huffnagle Troutbubbles. He was not an axe murderer, and that’s why men went into the attic, did they not – to fetch weapons to scare away the neighbourhood children? But no, the 'axe murderer' legend, which he concocted to maintain peace in his square patch of earth, would ultimately lead to asphyxiation...
...Capricorns are everywhere. So what?
2 comments:
Kick ass, man. You really hit your pace here. That some magical prose poem magic. You're a fountain.
I read this before and didn't comment.. don't know why.. I thoroughly enjoyed this.
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