Thursday, August 24, 2006

Wet the page.

My pen lifted its leg. I trail behind it with a zip-lock and a spatula. My mouth really is the worst though (with my brain as its accomplice). I'm catching it all the time. It opens and turds come out, weightless and floating, like smoke stacks - except they don't disappear. I'll step in one down the road some other year and try not to curse another one out. And they're contagious too. As contagious, in fact, as yawns. It's a turd epidemic passing from one mouth to the next, especially in large groups.

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