On St. Patrick's Day, I dressed like Lucky's

On St. Patrick's Day, I dressed like Lucky's kid and sprouted a red beard. In front of the Aragon Ballroom, there was a cow on parade who stopped to say hello. My red Airwalk
s offended the cow and she asked me to stop wearing them on the account that they were the same colour as the butchered meat of her relatives. I refused. After all, Airwalks
were never comfortable, so he used them all as planters. Scott's alfalfa farm was doing gangbusters in Portland, but couldn't seem to get any traction
in Minnasota. So he went east to meet with his farm advertisement mentor Muffy Man-Ure. She conviced him to plant pizza plants instead of alfalfa. Loaded with a new direction Scott
planted rows and rows of pepperoni, meat lovers and plain cheese ("for the kids", he thought). His friends laughed at him. "Who will help me harvest the pizza?" "Not I," said the
indolent, selfish bastards he called friends. "Who will help me bake the pizza?" "Not I," said the idle, lazy fools. "Who will help me deliver- "Not I," said the worthless bums.
"Who will just sit around and do nothing?" he tried. "I will", said the brain-dead humans. Curses, he thought. 'At least they're not causing any more trouble than they could've bee
n .' The brain-dead humans are know to be sincere creatures, since no parts of their brains works to manufacture lies. He folded the green blanket and let them sit on it. Silently,
they shared bread and jam. And there he sat, picnicking with zombies. Finally, one of them broke the silence and thus began a lively discussion about the local
baker and confectioner, about which breads were the best, and whether or not jam or jelly was preferred, and whose brains might be more savory served on a bed of rice.

Started: 2017-03-05 21:35:19
Finished: 2017-07-02 15:32:19

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