Feed the Children… To the Sharks (revisited)
Once upon a time there was a mustard with three legs and a bad habit. Underneath his house lived a piece of furniture we all like to refer to as “George” and the pelicans always make us laugh. “Green fur!”, exclaimed the platypus with covered eyelids. I saw how tired the air was, with nothing left to spoil but my feet and a bag of dried onions. Can we possibly tell what might cough louder than a mongoose? “Left of the tree?” asked the dwarf. “Left of the tree?”
I googled a mushroom cloud before Thursday and the safety restraints went ‘boink’ all over again. It occurred to me that every button on every lizard is made of glass, and should one be seen as fluoride, I might just correct myself. Nonetheless, we sit like doves on a floating lawnmower.
“WHY CAN’T WE JUST EAT THE BLUE JESUS!?” he complained, shaking his fists and throwing birdseed at the passing vehicles. Nobody thought his thumbnails would amount to such a fine young lad, with a ladder made of pasta and nothing to look forward to. Henceforth and hitherto with the flakey bakes all a flutter, and it all happened at once. Thus.
Last week I went to a conference and wouldn’t ya know it, Santa Clause made the best macaroni & cheese salad I’ve ever wiped my butt with. “Fancy a tiny spoon made of wood chips?” asked the old man with three arms and a neck longer than Kentucky. Nobody responded, probably because the room was filled with colored streamers and a giant goldfish named “Bobby”. Florida has one, I believe… and so does Frank. It doesn’t matter, really. Ever since the the Giant Potato Scare of 1937, my ankles haven’t been the same.
One day you will be like me, swimming across the window panes and waving “goodbye” to Auntie Anne as she sings the Lacrosse Lullabye to a miniature horse affectionately referred to as “Poop”. Until the ducks pass, you’ll be no more than a twelve inch subwoofer with a collar. Come back later. It might do you some good to eat chili dogs with the president.