twigged limbs slender
sleek, not tender
sticky sap leaking
lures the bee king
tree from tree
a lesson for you
a lesson for me
Banished, the crimson stethoscope paused at the top of the hill to look back at the hospital one last time.
‘Move along,’ ordered the escort, a humorless rib spreader.
‘Take it easy, Jack. I’m going,’ said the stethoscope, waving its earbuds in an obscene manner.
‘Right. That’s it,’ said the rib spreader, and it fair flung the crimson stethoscope far over the hill and down the other side.
‘And I’d do it again!’ the stethoscope called up to the disgusted and departing rib spreader.
‘Whatever did you do?’ asked a bunny, poking its head out of the ground near the stethoscope.
‘None of your business,’ said the stethoscope.
And the bunny spent the rest of its life in an unsuccessful quest to discover the stethoscope’s crime. The obsession caused it to lose all of its hair and to develop a debilitating quiver and twitch syndrome which veterinarians from all over the world came to observe.
The crimson stethoscope moved to Venice and continued for years to ply undiscovered its dastardly trade.
Jimmy didn’t stand a chance against expert markswoman Kate.
This had become a major point of trade that had supplied the customers who drew the girls, who brought the pimps, who dealt the drugs, which bred the guns that shot the kids who lived in the house that crack built. – from Alan Moore’s amazing novel, Jerusalem.
Loon: We are entirely honored to welcome for the 3 Question Interview the first man to set foot on the moon, Neil Armstrong. Welcome, Your Grace, and would you tell us how much a gallon of gas cost in 1958 or so?
Armstrong’s ghost: Oh, probably around 20 cents.
Loon: Amazing. And can it possibly be true that Hostess Cupcakes cost a nickel?
Armstrong’s ghost: For when I was a young boy in the ’40s that certainly sounds about right. Might even have been 3 cents. Can’t recall for sure. That was quite a long time ago.
Loon: And finally, did you ever go kayaking in the Arctic?
Armstrong’s ghost: No. That’s one thing I never did get a chance to do.
Loon: Thank you and good-bye. (salutes)
(Armstrong returns salute before marching away)
‘Who’s who? What’s when? Where’s why?’ said the iguana to the tarantula.
The tarantula, not one to be entertained by nonsense, more, in point of fact, like one to be enraged by nonsense, sank her poison escorting fangs into the iguana, thereby killing it, and dined on iguana haunch off and on for the next few weeks.
A grand total of eight buckets of paint were dumped.