Erudite chips and lager will drip from the hips of a Scandinavian
peacekeeper. Explosive chestnuts are the sort of thing any old sod can buy from
the street, common as muck, cheap as dirt. Enough of the euphemisms: let us
wind back and drip cognitive slow-mo on your well-fed wife. She's the one who
wears the skirts and insists on the rolling pin as a sexist accessory. Quite
rightly too, I use a rolling pin myself and I'm as big a bloke as they come. I
am rugged and stubble-chinned but I like a good apron now and then, maybe with
some flashy knickers. Okay, maybe I'm not so rugged but at least I stabbed that
elk in the neck before it skewered your left hook into that trunk we left
behind.
Hilda
Baker is your Goddess isn't she, Goddess in the literal sense, like a little
god with a stacked chest. She doesn't like me much because I steal your nail
varnish to split my tulips round the edges like the hedgehogs we only ever see
on TV these days. She tried to seduce me once or at least I think that that was
what it was. At least the children weren't involved, like last time. You were
unforgivable but we managed to broker a deal that suited both parties whilst
keeping a steady wall between us. It may confuse the goldfish but they had it
coming with their incessant bubble-blowing. I wanted pikes.
Understand,
I am pleased to see you again it's just I keep remembering the paper scrolls and
the gouged crucifixes. You know, crucifix this, crucifix that. It was obscene
but you are still the tailor to an empty-arsed queen. Match my genuflections if
you dare, I have been practising. Some might say I've gotten undefeatable.
American
training is rigorous and filled with tin cans that implode to the touch of a
wily salmon. Dodge the slots and you should be fine so long as you know your
way out of a raffle of deathly grasps. Dunderheads are actually now my friends
and, if you'll remember, we've come to respect them greatly. Inquisitive snouts
and rover rapture and all that. I am surely miserable in this face.
-or
so you posit, my dear. Struggle against the well-wishers and they will steer
you into a moose empire. If memory serves they'll proceed to demand your
clothes, your watch and your manner of living in spite of a fallen tower you
saw in your youth. The boxes remain unopened and I have broken the sticky tape
seals. I am proud of it just from the luck on your face, plastered and green.
Erasmus tells me where they all are when it's hard to tell, like in the middle
of the night or at the heart of a blast furnace. Or am I lying? I am a paradise
for small insects that cannot abide the costly crane and its exploitative
nature. I only ask for a yard of handcuffs. That's fair and I stand by it like
a hair clip.
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