1 box carpet tacks
8 gallons of churned paste
2 buckets of gravel
Throw the churned paste into an empty wine vat. Toss in gravel, tacks and violins. Using a gondolier’s pole, mix thoroughly. Hide yourself in the coal bin. Use ventriloquism to throw your voice and announce that dinner is ready. Mentally prepare for the beating you are sure to suffer from the angry giants roaring displeasure at discovering tacks and violins in their gravel paste.
(Curtain opens to reveal two lecterns fronting a backdrop painting of huge orange poppies blanketing a vast green field. A giraffe stands behind one lectern, an ostrich behind the other.)
Giraffe: In point of fact it stands to reason if not to rhyme that …
Giraffe: All things considered it should be known or at least surmised that credit due, make no mistake, is …
Giraffe: For intents and porpoises in a general manner not strictly defined, but …
Giraffe: Can be subverted if carefully kept in a warm and distant room while …
Giraffe: Vigilant maidens fair and true do swim or stroll or swim or stroll under flights of canaries in moonless sky or skyless moon or moonless sky or …
Whenever young Bill was missing, the first place they’d check was under the porch.
little he knew
little he knew
Hake Murrow crouched hidden in the corn field, the slurry of mud sliding and dripping from his body. His heart hammered. Its echo throbbed in his ears. From far off in the distance he heard the high squealing yelps of the hounds. He dared not linger longer. He crashed through the corn, fending off stalks with his fendered arms. He heard the hounds no more. On and on. Ever and ever. There was no exit. No exit. Ever. He stopped. His eyes widened. No exit. Ever.
if you must
lies one more yesterday