Of course, it's sitting rotting on my bookshelf.
When I will to have been going there for the first time again next time, I summoned My Spirit Familiar and told He/R¡/IT to skim through it, and if One ever gets tired enough to, or of, or on full–fuckin’–on full mind- blanking volume while {GERUND:PROFANE} to softcore half-nudie flicks of Trent Reznor long enough to give me back
a simple book report, we may continue.
Until then, I don’t know what to tell you: there’s some Energizers stashed in the top drawer of the rollup, that should hold you till I get back to the (blank).
ROT/(X) oh ewe tea. Rodger—[/urk]
TLDL
Look, Bellgab, look, Romegab: I may be cool, but I am not
that cool. Ladies, control your Selves,
please.
sitting rotting on my bookshelf.
Is that what we’re calling us now? Fe fi fo fum… what kind of wrought is that? For my money, if I have to choose iron, I’ll choose Big Nig Point, Nig Pig Iron; for my money, the best Iron available in all of the Bohemias. (They’re like the Bahamas, Butt Fart. Far sexier.)
Trust me, Kt, I’m a sailor; I know what I’m doing. Hopefully my spine now does too: Elmer still off-line.
Leaving the bar; look for me in a ditch. My hunger for cowards remains unquenched.
