Friday, July 02, 2010

"He's a Different Creature Now"

The duck got made into goulash. He didn't ask for it, he got included. It was a freebie.

And so they wolfed it down, sitting in the forest, on the picnic floor. The wings made noise. No, the wind, the wind, made noise...

How good are your chops? It was a delicate experience. Yet they laughed!

As a man yawns, his soul falls away. Not that it happened once, not twice. Nor for a sliver of the moon. A process of slow agglomeration, one that convolved itself, and then the slayers came. With their brown bread.

If grub be the music of love, please stain yourself. The first incident would not live long. The last was the first. As with wool-gathering...

The shadow of the fishnet stockings would follow him wherever he went. The dog wagged its tail, but it had a frown in its eyes. A sad little frown. Called "Loof".

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