matt: Because my cognitive processes are with the butter screaming at the flowers
nameless joey: What about the plasticine porters with looking glass ties?
matt: They were sitting at the window sil backing themselves into the regress of cats consuming eggs
nameless joey: None of that matters when you consider that the only duck who can recite lightning doesn't care to have tea with the Queen, sniffling without repose
matt: Repose you say? The lady walking beneath the chateau is the perfect example of one hundred percent the opposite of starfish
nameless joey: Ah, but books that lie are no better than a rug beneath an unwilling moon who cannot absorb the knowledge of what is not to come, and must prevent unhappenings
(After a little while)
matt: It's too cold for my pants
nameless joey: Your FACE is too cold for your pants… but why would you wear pants on your face anyway?
matt: Because of the blistering heat upon the trees of my blue youth
nameless joey: Are we starting this again? Precociousness exhibits far too great a peril to the allies of modern convention to be disregarded and strewn among its idle rivals
matt: But the cheese is like a lady waving the flag of her hair in the sink of brown
nameless joey: Unless she hasn't considered that which she projects unto her dreams of fate; namely, the insistence upon that which is illuminated to pure zeal
matt: As she moves to take a drink, you find yourself looking in the break of carpet in which the best ads are found
nameless joey: But it cannot be guaranteed that her folly will not stand in the way of a goal long since forgotten; thrown to the dragons unending. She knows your secret wish
matt: As she moves to take a drink, you find yourself looking in the break of carpet in which the best ads are found
nameless joey: Holy duplicate text, Batman!
matt: And what is my secret wish, pray tell?
nameless joey: I don't know. I'm not the thirsty hair-flag lady.
FIN
Joyce joyce joyce joyce joyce
ReplyDeleteShem is as short for Shemus as Jem is joky for Jacob. A few toughnecks are still getatable who pretend that aboriginally he was of respectable stemming (he was an outlex between the lines
ReplyDeleteof Ragonar Blaubarb and Horrild Hairwire and an inlaw to Capt. the Hon. and Rev. Mr Bbyrdwood de Trop Blogg was among
his most distant connections) but every honest to goodness man in the land of the space of today knows that his back life will not stand being written about in black and white. Putting truth and untruth together a shot may be made at what this hybrid actually was like to look at. Shem's bodily getup, it seems, included an adze of a skull, an eight of a larkseye, the whoel of a nose, one numb arm up a
sleeve, fortytwo hairs off his uncrown, eighteen to his mock lip, a trio of barbels from his megageg chin (sowman's son), the
wrong shoulder higher than the right, all ears, an artificial tongue with a natural curl, not a foot to stand on, a handful of
thumbs, a blind stomach, a deaf heart, a loose liver, two fifths of
two buttocks, one gleetsteen avoirdupoider for him, a manroot
of all evil, a salmonkelt's thinskin, eelsblood in his cold toes, a
bladder tristended, so much so that young Master Shemmy on
his very first debouch at the very dawn of protohistory seeing
himself such and such, when playing with thistlewords in their
garden nursery, Griefotrofio, at Phig Streat III Shuvlin, Old
Hoeland, (would we go back there now for sounds, pillings and
sense? would we now for annas and annas? would we for full-
score eight and a liretta? for twelve blocks one bob? for four tes-
ters one groat? not for a dinar! not for jo!) dictited to of all his
little brothron and sweestureens the first riddle of the universe:
asking, when is a man not a man?