God considered fist bumping Melba, but wasn’t sure if she would survive.
Melba Toast was giddy, and she wanted to tell the world, so she did. To clarify, her name is pronounced just as it is spelled, Melba. It mattered not that it was pouring rain, or that she was drenched to the bone. She had found God, or rather, God found her.
Unbeknownst to Olive, she became the laughing stock of the New York jet set. Saul Steinberg 1949©
Olive Parisinthespringtime wanted a gimlet. Now! Instead, she schemed. She knew world domination was within her grasp. How could it not be? I mean, whatever she wished, she attained. It did not hurt that she came from a family of obnoxious wealth. She had no concept that she was privileged! Believe it or not, this was her greatest trait.
Paris Street; Rainy Day 1877 by Gustave Caillebotte.
“It’s gotten to the point where I don’t even understand half of the things you say anymore. It’s like you’re speaking a different language.” Clarice stopped talking when she realized she had been tuned out.
Henri cleared his throat and stammered, “Of course, you’re right.”
Don’t mess with the Indian gray mongoose, they are probably the biggest assholes you’ll ever meet.
The mongoose was on the prowl, looking for some snake, the venomous kind, very much like a repressed horny man seeking free pornography. It exuded desperation, and didn’t give one iota of shit beyond the end goal.
It was an Indian gray mongoose. It’s how they do. This is not to say they’re all the same. That would be mongoosism. Yet, at the same time, it is not a denial.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
The Art and Craft of Blogging
The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.
The Home Of DJ Sung Mo Koo 