STARTING TO FALL

September 27, 2016

2016-09-25-13-11-42

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SERENITY NOW

September 26, 2016

2016-09-25-13-36-23

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RECIPE FOR DISASTER

September 25, 2016

1 box carpet tacks

2 violins

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.

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OSTRICH AND GIRAFFE

September 24, 2016

(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.)

Ostrich: Nevertheless.

Giraffe: In point of fact it stands to reason if not to rhyme that …

Ostrich: Nevertheless.

Giraffe: All things considered it should be known or at least surmised that credit due, make no mistake, is …

Ostrich: Nevertheless.

Giraffe: For intents and porpoises in a general manner not strictly defined, but …

Ostrich: Nevertheless.

Giraffe: Can be subverted if carefully kept in a warm and distant room while …

Ostrich: Nevertheless.

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 …

Ostrich: Nevertheless.

(Curtain falls.)

 

 

 

 

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THE WILLIAM FAULKNER KWIZ ANSWER

September 23, 2016

Whenever young Bill was missing, the first place they’d check was under the porch.

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THE WILLIAM FAULKNER KWIZ

September 22, 2016

william-faulkner

Young William Faulkner liked to play:

a. hitting at the ball with a stick.

b. way out yonder in the pasture.

c. bury it, dig it up, and bury it again.

d. under the porch.

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NEATNESS COUNTS

September 21, 2016

2016-09-20-10-15-42

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LITTLE HE KNEW

September 20, 2016

little he knew

how

little he knew

now

he knows

how little

he knows

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THE CORN FIELD

September 19, 2016

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.

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BROOD

September 18, 2016

brood

hen

dark thoughts

if you must

but remember

beyond tomorrow

lies one more yesterday

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