A rascal pencilberry rode into my town this morning with murder on his mind. I spilled a can of rice on the floor of the saloon, and made the jester clean it with his mind. The last thing I wanted was a mess, or an apron, but the loonie landed QEII-side up, so where do I go from there? The pencilberry called on me at the pharmacy.
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Tree trunk
26 April 2009 ?Check, please
23 April 2009 ?I could drink a bag of wine tonight, and I wouldn’t notice. New low — I ate sand this morning. It felt real, somehow, but that didn’t help the taste.
I miss Friendzo. I’d call him, but he doesn’t have a phone — he has a lymph node.
Hard times in New York town
21 April 2009 ?Caught the bus to Jamaica, Queens, this morning. Picked up a bag of escarole, caught the bus right back home. I got a lot of living to do ‘fore I die, and I ain’t got time to waste. On the bus back, I saw a man holding a package of what looked to be napkins, though they could have been really boring bandannas. Looking closer, I realized the man was Dean Martin. I sauntered over to him and stuck out my hand. –Hey, Deanzo, I’ve got an idea for you. Why don’t you come on over to my apartment and we’ll play some hearts with Rosencrantz and Guildenstern? He slapped my face, and I his. He stood, and we danced. Napkins, or bandannas, fluttered about like so many hummingbirds, and the bus was soon filled with the shouts of happy children, revelling in a blizzard of napkin, or bandanna, naïve to the whips and scorns of time, and to the great sadness of man’s decline.
Reginald
16 April 2009 ?I walked to the greengrocer on my hands today, because my feet are just burning up lately! The whole time I was walking, I was thinking about condron.us and what a wonderful service they provide, and I got that great feeling of just, Hey, what a wonderful day for a quick trip to the greengrocer! And I met my friend Beanzo at the corner of Elderflower and Porkenberry, and he told me he was on the way to the greengrocer, too, so we walked together. Michael Jordan was there, selling raspberries for twelve dollars a pound. Get outta town, MJ! I kicked his ass real bad, and then ate a big steak at Michael Jordan’s The Steakhouse. ‘Course I didn’t pay. Never do.
Leg up
15 April 2009 ?You guys ever heard of this guy Jack White? Apparently he’s some sort of actor or politician or something. Anyway, I was walking to the greengrocer, and I was on the left side of the street because the right side is verboten sometimes, and this guy comes along and he’s wearing all red — tight pants, tight shirt, tight shoes, pork pie hat, ascot, the whole bit. He’s got this big old mop of ratty, dark hair and his skin’s practically translucent. So this guy — big guy, maybe 6′ 2” — he’s walking toward me and suddenly he stops, drops to the sidewalk and starts doing these crazy push-ups. So I says to him, I says, Hey, Bub, whaddaya whaddaya whaddaya got some sort of problem with me? Whaddaya whaddaya. And he’s all like, I’m Jack White, ya big corncob pipe, and I’m like, I don’t know what that is, but I’ve had enough of you, and meanwhile he’s still doing these crazy push-ups, and I don’t know how his hat hasn’t fallen off yet, and I give him a look that says, WHADDAYA WHADDAYA, and he starts talking about his new musical supergrouper called the Dead Weather and I’m like, Whoa, hey, I thought you were a baseball player! And by now this guy is doing coffin push-ups, which are like when you lie on the ground and fold your arms over your chest and you hoist yourself up somehow so that only the backs of your heels are touching the ground, and so he’s doing these coffin push-ups and telling me that no, he’s not a baseball player, or a greengrocer (because that was my second guess), and I say, Listen, Frankie Frisch, I know your type, you’re a real hambone, and I’ll make a soup out of you and I’ll use the soup to feed my friends. So square with that, Jemima Pearl. And he ran away — real quick.
frankly
14 April 2009 ?Copped some rocks from the greengrocer today. Talk about a cauliflower rainbow, hot damn! Jimmity Crockett and I went down to the swimming hole later for raisin shish kabobs and tapioca juice. Hit the spot real nice! Tell you what, you give me and old Crockett a thimble and some paprika, we’ll make a picnic out of it — a damn good picnic, too. Bet your boots.
Ritzy
13 April 2009 ?Holy cats, have you ever eaten soup with a bunch of people? Man, talk about gross! Even if everyone is trying their damnedest not to slurp, when there are enough heads at the table, someone is bound to fall into darkness. Not to mention the goddamn clanking of spoons! Sheesh!
Breezy
10 April 2009 ?Man, I was talking to my Italian friend Igrizzio today, talk about an Italian! He was wearing a Gianluigi Buffon jersey and no pants, with Gucci driving loafers but no car in sight. I offered him some of my prosciutto and taleggio and he smacked me in the mouth with a gondola! I’ll tell you what, that hurt a lot — inside. It hurt my face, too. He said he was sorry, but I wasn’t really convinced since he kept smacking me in the face as he gesticulated wildly to express his repentance. I finally told him that maybe he ought to just take his espresso machine elsewhere, so he hopped on his Vespa and drove off, immediately hitting two elderly women. He came back after a few minutes when he realized he hadn’t taken the Eucharist yet. When the service was over he came over to me and apologized again, this time taking care to control his normally flailing limbs. I saw that he was sincere, so we made up and went to Colosseum and fought some lions and killed the shit out of them.
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