As i lay contemplating my ingestion at the hands of Ye Lad of Fort Frown, Pallid Lamb of Frown Pasture, I realized that I was alone. The lad handers of my recent sand handing salmon hand, sand in hand astride we strode, by the sea, he and I, that lake of common blindungsroman we swam, swam handing our salmondary hand lands. He was gone. Tyra Banks was gone. These bland hands now were blaming my glands for handling themselves so poorly. By passing out, or phase-grazing on the green grass of frowning space faces, my heart was sliced by those garden variety blades.
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Tags: banal, banality, boredom, economy, escape, frown, healthcare, moon, obama, tony robins
Presumed innocent, I awoke in a living man’s body within the pale white chamber of medical absorption. How long had i been in my dormant state? Reason slowly tickled back into my grinning brain, giddily obliterating all mirthful musing on the nature and function of my predicament. Was it the type of predicament that would lead to fruitful self examination, providing me with the sorts of rhymes that could make me an interstellar cat-lander? Or was it the type of predicament that would ultimately serve only to give me grain, bushel upon bushel of fat yellow grain, glutinous and lovely!
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