The Prankquean Skidoo
We had foiled a murderous family of chain sawing savages, deposed a tyrant log from it’s dirt mound stronghold, and found of course the promised bounty of tennis balls (escavated from an ancient settlement of a proud busch beer loving peoples) A moments repose then on the toxic shores of the Delaware, (Look! Up in the Sky!) kaleidoscopic mandalas PLOWING THE CLOUDS, about ready to push through the compulsory sheath into beatific delirium, The Great Escape! (Not Yet.) Something then about hydrolic-crocodiles, I don't recall.
Walking the path away home, inescapably entwined w/ some strange eternal female, to say what she did...I can not! Walking in place? shiva dancing? bugging out? "why do I am alook alike a poss of porterpease?"
At a loss for any & everything, the flying circus was joined, Proust got googled, and Dead Presidents totally rules.
posted by Bobby at
3:42 PM
2 Comments:
That sounds just about right! Good stuff.
WITNESSETH! Though in all truthiness Brendan actually dethroned that most dasterdly demiurgic log, after I (in my folly) had installed it as a puppet diety of the dirt mound & environs. Failing to end it's terror reign by means of bombardment (Sticks & Stones) Brendan gave it a smart kick in the axis and that were that.
or so it seemed!
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