"Isn't cavier, wine, and truffles; just fish eggs, spoiled grape juice and tree fungus?" she asked while dabbing her mouth. "Why yes, I suppose you are right," he replied, suddenly feeling sheepish about serving her the next course, which was tripe. She was a picky eater, but he was in love. She jabbed at the tripe and scoured at it. He merely sighed in ecstasy. She stared at the pig knuckles in paralyzed terror. He merely gazed at her perfect face. He put his hand on the pure white fat of her thigh and watched as she twisted the porky scratching this way and that so the sun glistened on the melting lard. He stuck out his tong s & pinched her belly rolls. "Hey, cut that out. Don't treat me like some piece of meat.. you skinny rake you!" Shall laughed like an earthquake & grabbed him with her great pudgy feet that were stained on the bottom with the toil of her grape stomping ancestors. Their laughter made them feel young and Shall kissed him on the ear and whispered that He was now a guardian of the universe. Pine elixir was to be taken daily and refrigerated after opening. The stained feet found the holy grail. The hands hadn't found it yet. Some claimed the secret spleen had found it long ago but had stayed to help all who had a soul that was lost, which is all of us. He wasn't about to say no to daily Pine Elixer. Guardia -n angels then sang him to his eternal rest, and he was dumped into a pine box and buried under six inches of gravel in a Tippy's Taco House parking lot. They say at night you can hear Pete--that's what I called him: Mr. Pete the parakeet--whistling and swearing. . .God, I miss him. . .but he was in a better place: Tippy:s Taco House under 6 inches of gravel

 

Comments

1 Futique's photo

Typical Tippy’s Taco House wasting terrific parakeet meat.

2 Woab's photo

Yes, but he was also a guardian of the universe so he was pretty tough, as evidenced by all the swearing.

3 MadWorld's photo

Someone needs to put up a plaque, which reads: Pete the “whistling and swearing” parakeet lies somewhere here beneath your feet. . .six inches deep! And not a Planck Length deeper!

4 Woab's photo

Hmm, not a bad idea, MadWorld. There’s a Tippy’s Taco House about 20 miles from where I live. Hmmmm…

5 Futique's photo

Please Woab, send pictures of the plaque you place on that parking lot.

6 Woab's photo

I am so dense, MadWorld. I just realized that you were making a rhyme.
Mr. Pete, Mr. Pete/ the whistling, swearing parakeet/ Is buried here six inches deep/ In the gravel at your feet.

7 MadWorld's photo

You are not dense, Woab. . .if you were, you would not have realized. . .โœ(โ—”โ—กโ—”)

8 Woab's photo

Okay, so I was dense, but now I have dispersed. Ahhh, that feels better.

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