Saturday, April 4, 2015


I have been sick. My apologies for not writing for this last few days. I assume you all went so mad with worry, frustration and boredom that you cracked your heads open with a dessert spoon and scooped the brains right out, shovelling them into your mouth with the last remaining motor faculty you had available, but cruelly unable to taste once they reached your tongue. So there you were, slumped on the breakfast table, spoon and brains hanging out of your mouth, dying an ignoble death, and it's all my fault. And I suppose that now all you readers are dead, this entry is only for my amusement. What shall I write about then? Gobbledegook I suppose. La la la, I was skipping through the grass one day, great purple tentacles emerged from the dirt and rubbed my nipples. It felt awful fancy like and I grinned and showed my fangs. As butterflies fluttered by I bit them, tearing great chunks of wing off and letting it dissolve on my tongue like a communion wafer. Oh my, what an innocent, tender, ineluctable taste it was.

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