I continued to drink the poison betting on the sageseed to protect me. A couple rumbles that might have been ordinary later & we were sneaking around in her backyard with a shovel. I was not about to let Rapunzel gaslight me and especially not in front of my children, even the red demon one that always stood in the middle. He called me The Father. It sounded odd to have my red demon son call me The Father as if he was reading it off a dossier that he found in some underground bunker in the bathtub under bars of Aztec gold & Aztec ghost s. At least, that is where I imagine one would find such dossiers. So I took my red demon son aside one day and I gave him The Talk, which he saw as The Talk from The Father. He's in demonic therapy now. His demonic side can not make peace with all the bodily fluids his human side is cursed with. My side complains about all the sulfurous odors. Red demon son -of-a-bitch! I wish he'd just stop complaining and go home. At least he has bodily fluids to complain about. Look at me, I'm dry as a bone and you don't hear me complaining that my lower ribs have fallen off, or that bone worms have riddled my pelvis, my skull is being used to collect spare change, and my left femur is Bruno's chew toy do you? Being a skeleto n is often humerous & I honestly couldn't help but grin. That is, until Ulna gave me a sternum look. "Do you think this is funny?" she rattled. I flipped her my last phalange. The bone had to be cut off but it almost bit Ulna. Dr. Bones and Nurse Amy were called upon to help. The saw blade broke so Dr. Foot was assisting. They were desperate by midnight. Amy decided the bone should be SEDUCED off. She left, returning in a bikini. Seeing Amy, the bone stiffened & popped off. It chased her a bit then paused for a cigarette & a nap.



1 Shabadu666's photo

Yes, the pause that refreshes.

Because of the clean pipes. No bullets in the chamber. No dyed in the wool pushover popover lover of Langostino of Lappland’s lovely uncanny valley.

2 Shabadu666's photo

And I say that with the utmost respect for the march of the lobsters: all of that wasted flesh.

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