not quite a cult... baroque...Not quite a cult, but close to a baroque mirrorSo i imagine myself sitting in a dark green room, not a bright green room mind you, bright green gives me the shivels, and it makes me sad. So in this green room, i sit here and... oh wait,...dark green room, i apologise for that, my brain must be off to the gallows. So i sit in this dark green room, and watch this tiny crack in the very bottom of the upper right hand corner of the wall. You would think that this was just some ordinary crack in a wall wouldn't you? Well, that's because it is. Everytime i look at that damn crack in this dark green room, i think of what that damn Eva Monswaray has always said to me, ever since i was a wee tea time bringer. "The light switch is on the handle, make sure you don't turn it red Jev...DON'T LET IT TURN RED!" Now normally i would be very angry and i would find myself in quite a predicement, but today is a special day, yes, today is Monday, and oh what a monday it is. For some strange re
Gone to english landBe back soon, I'm going to English land!This shoe doesn't match my skin cancer complection! How do they expect me to go to the market in center, when this shoe doesn't match my skin? It's ok if the other one doesn'y match, yes, i do believe that is quite alright, It's just that this shoe, the left one, is different. Not different "ha ha" mind you, but different "I'm going to slice you with a pumpkin carver." Oh dear... i am sorry, you've made me think unpleasnt mind images about the Cardinals. Tis very sad, those cardinals. Back to my yet queer prediciment, How can i have my shoe complement me? Decisions like this always make me chin down. I know, i can make my skin darker! yes! that is it! make my skin a darker complection to match me shoe! lighters and burning oils always help with this kind of situation. ::light's...fwwssshhhhh!:: oh haha, the flames? don't worry it doesn't hurt... I've had my molers removed.
Mailman on 23rd streetThe mailman on 23rd street comes by at 1:03 in the P of MEvery single meaningless day, i see that damn mailman as i watch him from behind the baige stained curtains. I see him, i know he's watching me, just waiting for me so slip up, he wants to hurt me, and my dear beautiful wife, but no! i cannot let him lay a hangnail on her, she is delicate, as delicate as a loose leaf piece of paper, if he touches her, the sparrows will cry, no! no! i cannot let her be touched, and i cannot allow the sparrows to cry! oh what a bitter blue cry noise they will conject, oh how sorrowful it would be, and all because of the mailman who comes on 23rd street at 1:03 in the P of M. I still see him, and he knows it too... he's watching me as well... look at him, he looks so contemporarry, and effervesiant sipping his hot cup of fish and chips, sipping it oh so cleverly. why don't i go out there and tell him of you say? well, that would be stupid, since today is the third week of March, every smart chap kn