I am Jane Goodall's Tanzanian monkeys typing about bananas. My fingers are Santa's little helpers. My hope is a sporadic rainfall - yet a torrential downpour in all creative environments. I am Theseus, unspooling golden yarn. Sisyphus, sweating uphill. Bukowski, scribbling away in rooming houses. A river always flowing. I am the nightmare of stagnancy and a God of Imagination.
Sunday, April 06, 2003
What Will Happen To Saddam Hussein's Pets...
I've done absolutely nothing today. I got up late and saw my girlfriend sitting in my wheelchair that I bought for fun about a year ago. Little did I know that I would end up using it for real. I was sleepy and asked my girlfriend why she wasn't at school. She was on top of a pile of blankets too. Why? I don't know. Maybe cuz' she's so little and wanted to feel all tall like me. She told me that she didn't have classes because it was Sunday and that she now had to go into work an hour earlier because of the stupid time change. The she went back to watching Trading Spaces.
I think that this was too much information for my sleepy head, I tried to ask her something, but my head was muddled and my throat wasn't working, so all that came out was kitty sounds. Mewww.
So this cat went back to sleep and dreamed that somebody put a Saddam Hussein doll in my barbecue and almost got caught, but I covered for him and saved his Iraqi ass.
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