Twas the night before Memorial Day, and all through the mouse,
Its stomach was churning like Alison Krauss.
The stockings still hung with tattered despair
So lonely and pathetic like Sonny without Cher,
Which is to say, he became a conservative Republican Congressman only to die in a skiing accident.
And now, a mash up.
“This seems like a Saturday sort of thing,” he thought out loud, not quite sure whether or not it was even Saturday. He proceeded to lift his butt from the chair and slowly released vicious gas. It sounded like the last sputter of a dilapidated motorboat, and it was with this new discovery of foul air that he realized it was actually Sunday. This would not be the first time Ralph Lawrence was acquainted with shame.
And now, a mash up.
A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away, hitchhiking was commonplace.
The following is a pre-Covid 19 tale, which would explain the unsettling naiveté. The social distancing exemplified is pure happenstance and not mandated by law. Sadly, stupidity remains consistent through crisis as well as normal times.
And now:
After this quarantine, I am going to be very self-conscious about coughing, however, I will fart proudly and boldly into and through the 21st God damn century.
And now, a mash up.
The sound of a switchblade and a motorbike.
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