Friday, March 16, 2007


I see myself in a black umbrella, covered in syrup, waiting for the rain to fall. When the first drops hit my body, I'll spray confetti across the sky. If it hits a wandering vulture, I'll stay really quiet and still until it pecks at my ear, then I'll jump up and yell, "Surprise!" Because it hears that word, it'll turn up its hearing aid, and momentarily distracted, it'll be grabbed by a mountain lion prowling through the forest. Since the beast was hungry, it runs off before noticing me lying there, another victim, soft and fuzzy like a meaty pair of dice. Except I can't be rolled for numbers, since no tattoos of ones and sixes scar my body, which is much less muscular than it should be. When my rolls of fat hear this, they decide to drag me outside, where a blizzard is about to destroy all traffic. I see myself in a red poncho, soaking in dish washing liquid, ready for the snow to pile up around me.


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