"You know you're not supposed to be within

  • "You know you're not supposed to be within a hundred yards of me." He stepped forward, covering my dress with footprints. At least the homicide detectives would know his shoe size
  • except he wasn't wearing shoes. He was wearing poweriser jumpting stilts. He jumped over her and roudhouse kicked the Chai Soy Latte out of her hand. He threw a
  • fleeting glance over his shoulder at the head waiter. That was a big mistake. Quick as a wink, she tipped the contents of the ice bucket all over the floor. His poweriser stilts
  • slipped in the muck and he fell backwards into a freshly prepared baked Alaska. She took that opportunity to violently bludgeon his nuts with a claw hammer. Luckily,
  • he was wearing a synthetic nut sack and had the family jewels tucked into a special fold of the butthead thong he was wearing under the bevis boxers. He rolled over and scurried on
  • hands and knees to her feet "please baby let me do it to you" he begged. No! Last time you did it I couldn't walk right for a week. No! No way will I let you do that! No pedicures
  • no facials, no nothing. Now it should be my turn. She took the handsaw, held it upright in her lap and started playing it like it was a harp. The music that emanated from it was ex
  • hilarating with unperturbed clarity. (However, handsaws are notoriously difficult to master in the upper registers, and excruciating nicks and cuts to fingers were the price.)
  • I was thrown out of folk festival because I went from the acoustic handsaw to the electric chainsaw. People just didn't understand rock back then. I toured with a power tool band.
  • That was before I lost my hand, of course. Never underestimate the power of a circular saw, that's my motto. Well, that's my motto now. Before, I used to


Want to leave a comment?

Sign up!