Just as the grass grows greener in the neighbors

Just as the grass grows greener in the neighbors garden, ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. Though my marm tried to keep that sight from my eyes, I stowed away on

the SS Lincoln just as it left Marseilles on that cloudy overcast day in 1856. I felt the sting of stiff salt air on my face as we pulled out and I saw French soil for the last

Maine. I leapt off the gangplank looking for 3 days of shore leave. I cursed as I saw the banner. "Portsmouth, Home of Chanel No. 5's Annual Gallcophile Garlic Festival"

Portsmouth's garlic festival was putting a major strink on this sailor's plans for the locals. "Farewell and a pee-yew, you fair ladies of Maine." I called my taxidermist friend to

pick me up dockside (he was also owned a taxi). "No can do, bud," he replied. "I can't go anywhere near the Portsmouth Garlic Festival, remember? I'm a vampire." I had forgotten

whether or not I turned off the oven & was too busy counting hairs on my arm in sets of 5 (habit I'm trying to break) to pay attention to what he was saying. The vamp seemed to

kibitz anywhere there was free donuts. The tedious details of the vamp's life hit a new level quantity at the

Vamp Self Help Group she went to at the library on a Tuesday afternoon. There was a tube strike so it was only her & the Vamp Counsellor as the other vamps couldn't walk in highhee

haws. So she and the vamp counsellor caroused in limitless disgrace, forgetting Bunnicula watched from his cage. The hickeys were by far enough evidence in the aftermath--yeesh.