Saturday, November 8, 2008
How many times must I, wake up to find my laundry had not been erased from my plane of existence to find it in Africa with Beyonce and Karim Abdul Jabar? Hmmm? Don't answer that...
I walked from my lowly hovel down a road. It was a dirty road, full of the scum of society's dregs emptying into the earth like a undue punishment from a cruel unloving god (there is no such thing. And as I strolled through my arches of communes I found the hut where my fabricating deeds could be done. To my undue fortune, not unlike an ostrich playing scrabble posthumously with Ted Kennedy, the machina that growled fearsomely was unoccupied, distracted by the fruits of its labor, slathering it's drool upon its metal bounty. Today was was a good day to wage war to be sure.
I was a battle on two fronts. A lost general had yet to return to his arsenal, his troops abandoned left shivering in the moist air around them. The unholy abominable machine of reckoning, that stood motionless, as no fear could overcome, not even when his gates could be breached. I unwittingly fed his thirst of war, his body began to rumble, and the day would commence, though I would win. I already knew.
And now I wait, As my troops battle within it's confines I wait unwittingly, soon the battle will be won, and I will be clothed in my victory...