"Don't drink and fold! DON'T DRINK AND FOLD!"

"Don't drink and fold! DON'T DRINK AND FOLD!" [CRASH!] [@ Folder's Anonymous] "How many here are also alcoholics?" [unanimous hands] "That's what I figured. Now let's introduce
a little mescaline to this folding party. Now let's
sit upon the sand and tell silly tales of the Cactus Kings." The Unmagical Realist stood up. "Stop! I've had my fill of your color-shifting sombreros and geometries of the skies! M
y head is hurting so much!!!" they said, they had always been jealous of my magic.
Jealous. Jealous little maggots. Of course they were /jealous/. I was better. I was /the best/. And Envy was a sin. But then again, so was Pride.
I will need to feign humility. I'll do it to benefit the maggots. Yeah, that's it. Their jealousy of me is fueled by admiration, I know. As their role model, they can look up to me
and squirm. That's all they do...but they don't do it as well as I do. Don't get me wrong. I taught them everything they know. That's right. Nobody squirms like me.
Lt. Columbo was nice, telling me all about his wife's gallstones. He almost left & suddenly remembered to ask why my prints were at the crime scene. I've been squirming ever since.
Gallstones...those bastards are painful. Perhaps I should have told Lt. Columbo that his wife needs to lose a couple hundred pounds, but...my prints were at the crime scene becaus
I had attempted to make Mrs. Columbo a smoothie. I thought a little bananna and mango concoction would calm her. It was my fingerprints on the blender!

0 Comments

Want to leave a comment?