Monday (2)
A dakini came to see me last night and said: Hotboy, since you have poured the barrel of beer down the plughole, I grant you two wishes. I said: That's very nice. I'd like some skunk please so I could get proper out of my box for a change instead of having to eat soapbar like the poor people, who can't even buy that at the moment for love nor money.
For the second wish I would like you turn the publishers who have rejected my wonderful novel xxxtherealmccoyxxx and, therefore, condemned me still to gainful half-employment for the foreseeable, into potatoes. And thus it came to pass. Three wee packets of skunk (thank you!) and potatoes into potatoes, except these can now stick to the door, thus showing their magic properties.
If you buy the mitts, the tatties are for free. If you just want the magic tattties, that'll be a hundred grand anyway, please.
6 comments:
I can't eat potatoes. But they are pretty.
I'm pretty sure the bliss is a learned thing and a clone won't have the same experience.
I've got some Viking in my ancestry as well.
Good luck on selling the mitts. I think in this economy you may have a bit of trouble.
Magic Taties! Maybe you can try and sell the taties and say they grow a big tall plant that will reach the land of giants...
Marie! You mean don't want to buy the mitts? How odd! Hotboy
Heather: A giant tattie stock! Good idea! Hotboy
I don't eat tatties either. I would offer them to tims.
Some people will just never get ra macrobiotics.
Albert? I don't even know what they are. Are they part of the grope therapy? Hotboy
Post a Comment