A Black Feather, A poison pen... ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Yeah, as a matter of fact, they do stack shit this high On a warm June evening in 1971, probably just before the solstice my parents found themselves with nothing better to do with their time. Nine months later, shit happened. at a little before 1PM. Seven pounds and six ounces of it to be exact, brought screaming into the world. Though my parents disagreed with my assessment of the situation, i can't argue with the empirical evidence i have gathered over time. I have taken nearly every conceivable step to undo that particular mistake. Of course, lacking any fundamental competence, i have never succeeded. Yup, that's right, folks, i am that chunk of crap that keeps bobbing back to the surface no matter how many times God flushes. I mean, hey, come on, if the instance of my premature burial at the hands of my criminal friends wasn't at least the first of many litterbox metaphors i would come to encounter, than i don't know what was. scrape the pebbles and clay, kick a little dirt. 12:15 a.m. - 2003-03-17 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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