He stapled the plastic tarp covering the

He stapled the plastic tarp covering the hole in the patio door. He took a vacuum and cleaned up the stray shards of glass. Rising up slowly, he brushed his khakis. Dinner would be
compliments of Bird's Eye tonight. Fried chicken dinner. He could smell it, even over the rotting corpse in the front room. Well that would have to wait. First things first.
First I must see Chuck Norris, he will know what to do. Because he knows all about
everything. Except some things, which he knows very little about. And then there are a few things about which he knows next to nothing, and a couple of things he can't even spell.
The things he can't spell and knows nothing about pertain to the husbandry of trolls. The other things he can spell, but is unsure of, relate to the music of the spheres, Gaelic &
sh*t. There ones was a time when Gaelic culture truly was popular among most. Then the Romans came and changed all that around the time when Reagan was a wee lad. I can still recal
l the time we cried. When we broke on through the other side, o'er the ramparts we watched, so gallantly streaming. But if you want to be my Roman, you've got to get with my Gaelic
.Do you understand? Or is this all Greek to you? If you don't stop Roman around, I swear I'll get with my own Gaelic all by myself. "Get with your own Gaelic" is a euphemism for
'peeling the corn cob', which is another way to say 'splitting the banana', which if you're still not catching on is what transpires when a man invites another man over for dinner
and to see his etchings. My love transcended the hackneyed cliches, propelled me beyond the need to categorize my love as 'stuffing the hotdog in the bun.' Finally, poetry...

Started: 2012-04-01 21:13:40
Finished: 2013-04-24 08:35:49

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