Tuesday, 6 June 2017

Beautiful Escape

I don’t really know what to say, I tell him.  Well, I do, but I don’t want to write it down.  

We could obliterate them into a million zillion pieces, he answers.  Or turn them into cartoon characters that we can erase, and then crumple up and throw away.  

I want to fly amidst the stars I want to fall splat on the ground, I return.  This could go on forever.  Fat and wore cheap suits.  There, how’s that for something?

He rolls his eyes.  How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?

An excellent question, I reply.  But unfortunately there is a party conference going on.  

Yes, he says.  And no one is winning.

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