I’m trying really, really hard to “love my neighbor as myself” but when I see them post on Facebook they think candy corn tastes far, far worse than ear wax I feel righteous rage rise up and I sit smoking Etna-style and long to loose sweet Heaven’s wrath and twist the thongs of scornful and inflammatory fools.
Too many playwrights soil the plot, stir the pot, scrawling rot.
Crazed central casting hasn’t helped, sending whelps, crawling kelp.
Gilgamesh redux this is not, fool and fox, head of rocks!
This is your life not a movie script, you’re not unfit, enjoy the trip!
It was more or less right then, the sign that graced that heathen parking lot. Other signs he’d seen but never truly saw, like blood-sport post-apocalyptic traffic, honking horns that sounded like Degüello at the Alamo, ignoring flashing lights and speeding up in school zones. Life was clearly cheap here, but he hadn’t realized how much so.