sigh

Fri, 20 Jan 2012 18:37:15 -0600

Creative block. Let’s not call it writer’s block and give it any more power than it deserves.

Sitting here, staring at my computer and trying to make funny fall out of my face is exhausting, unproductive and silly and so I remembered I had a tumblr and that’s why you’re having to read this. God. Take a minute for yourself once in a while.

Let’s assume part of this is being out of practice, though, and take a minute, and breathe, and breathe, and breathe, and hyperventilate. Thanks for reading! /passes out

iz gone rain!

Sun, 18 Jul 2010 09:59:19 -0500

iz gone rain!

A Skit

Sun, 18 Jul 2010 09:48:00 -0500

The players:

Dramatis personae are The Mayor, The Doctor, The Baseball Player, and The Layabout.

Scene the first

The Mayor is ill! He has come across his friend, The Doctor, who is having lunch at the Soda Shoppe. In attendance are The Baseball Player, who is having lunch with The Doctor in a booth, and The Layabout, who is slouched at the counter.

Mayor: I say, Doctor McHenry! My abdomen is ablaze!

Doctor: Mayor McCheese! I told you your insatiable appetite for things hamburgerish would be the end of you!

Player: Mayor McCheese! The constabulary speak well of you!

Mayor: The Sportsman! How came you by this bit of gossip?

Player: I was an honored guest in their holding-cell establishment because of my morbidly high level of intoxication the preceding St. Patrick’s Day Feast!

Mayor: My word!

Player: It took a brigade, a battalion, and a battering ram to bring my back-alley bacchanalia down!

Doctor: Sir Sportsman, your amount and adroitness of alliteration astounds and amazes all attentive audiences!

Player: I’m still drunk!

Layabout: Fie, you dastardly fiend of friends! That is, as it were, to say, in a sense, as it goes, one could argue, finest friend of fiends! To braggadocioize so brazenly before our commonwealth’s commendable C in C! He will not like, I dare say, which thing you have said!

Mayor: The wastrel speaks true! To scandalize our township plantation city-state’s stature so, before me, its very Caligula! By which I mean, that is to say, its Nero! Its Romulus Glossolalium Augustulus McCheese! The Layabout has yet found a center of sense in his miserable phrenological vermin’s cranium! My best hog is surely airborne!

Doctor: Our livestock! By the wounds of Zarathustra!

Exit Herr Doctor McHenry through the Soda Shoppe’s window in a sanguinary shower of leaded glass. The Baseball player cachinnates. The Layabout perishes instantly.

Mayor: Barman! A hamburger!

Player: Mr. Barman does not work here! No amount of cajolery shall bring him, I declare derisively!

Mayor: Where, then, I ask, I demand, I interrogativiate of you, you cretinous cowardly cagey cuckold, does Mr. Barman travail?

Player: I do not know; I am quite drunk! I am bleeding from my head, face, viscera, and, at minimum, one of my genitals! I am staining my local sports team’s cache-sexe cup! Dr. McHenry’s panicky parting imparted a ponderous preponderance of glass into my pompadour and croque-monsieur! I ate it anyway! My sandwich, that is!

Mayor: Then we must away to the business establishment of Doctor McHenry for to obtain the wherewithal to repair your genital! Then to the paddywagon, and after such event I shall certainly seek a hamburger! At a “patty-wagon,” perhaps! I say, I am the living end!

Exeunt omnes vitalis. End Scene the first.

Scene the second

The Soda Shoppe. The Layabout decomposes over a lengthy period of time.

End Scene the second.

The End

Undiscovery

sigh

iz gone rain!

A Skit