is it special?
Well you're in luck, today you're receiving a double post. Mostly I blame my mind set, though fault could lie with the kebab I recently regretfully consumed, no matter. Here I am, it's quarter to nine and my mind is no where near my paper. I think maybe I just need to get the juices flowing for this next triumph of fiction, but then it didn't work before so I have little reason to think that it'll work this time.
It was 430 in the morning when I noticed the ether... I should have known there was ether involved, it had all the mind-numbing delusional symptoms of an ether binge. The castrated monkey in the corner pointed the way through his shivering as he remembered the loss of his most heated members. His hand, outstretched lead the way down the coridor to the library... it was there that I knew I would find him. Ever since the fight Herald had been acting strange, midnight calls and warm tequilla baths were the lesser of our worries, it was the live emu fights that were catching our attention and progressing our concern. Things had only been getting worse.
Entering the library there was an inch of what could only be tequilla covering the floor, obviously his bath had overflowed, but as mentioned, it was of little concern. Herald was a collecter of things, and during his time as a successful prize fighter he had accumulated a vast reserve of nothing. Nothing in that he had very much of something but really it never amounted to anything. His library was filled with copy upon copy of the history of accountant financing for idiots, he had 600 copies, and ontop of that he had never read one or even opened one. Harold prefered kittens, six of which could be seen stumbling around in corner of the library, purring loudly hugging each other and singing old war tunes, again, it's little of our concern. Harold had come to the believe that he was able to read kittens, an act that he greatly enjoyed and spent much time practicing. I had never gotten the knack for it, or rather I never found anything the kittens had said to be of much interest. Harold was obscessed. He began branching out towards what he hoped would be more fulfilling types of animal reading. As easily infered, he had tried his hand at monkey reading but it ended badly. Other animals, penguins, puppies, beetles, tropical fish, had seemed more promising but alas all had ended the same way. Perhaps that was it, maybe he snapped under the weight of his academia? But Harold wasn't like that... it had to be the fight.
The fight was on a saturday night, the main event and culmination of a week of prize fights. One million to this winner... there was a lot of stress. Harold had it all undercontrol though, it was nothing new to him. Just another day at the office, for him, it was in the bag. His opponent was a 600lbs endangered baby black rhino, he'd fought black rhino before and it would be nothing new this time. They gathered in the ring and after knocking gloves they when to their respective corners. Harold was drinking tequilla... so was the rhino. There was a problem the bell was broken, minuts passed with inaction. No one knew what to do. Eventually the local texan produced a pistol. He struck the bell with the handle of the weapon. The sudden jolting from rest startled the rhino and he charged. The charge frightened Harold who quickly emptied his wallot on the canvas and was last seen wandering the streets of sandiego naked but for his gloves and a medallion of the Albanian double headed eagle. It was clear that he had lost his nerve.
It was 430 in the morning when I noticed the ether... I should have known there was ether involved, it had all the mind-numbing delusional symptoms of an ether binge. The castrated monkey in the corner pointed the way through his shivering as he remembered the loss of his most heated members. His hand, outstretched lead the way down the coridor to the library... it was there that I knew I would find him. Ever since the fight Herald had been acting strange, midnight calls and warm tequilla baths were the lesser of our worries, it was the live emu fights that were catching our attention and progressing our concern. Things had only been getting worse.
Entering the library there was an inch of what could only be tequilla covering the floor, obviously his bath had overflowed, but as mentioned, it was of little concern. Herald was a collecter of things, and during his time as a successful prize fighter he had accumulated a vast reserve of nothing. Nothing in that he had very much of something but really it never amounted to anything. His library was filled with copy upon copy of the history of accountant financing for idiots, he had 600 copies, and ontop of that he had never read one or even opened one. Harold prefered kittens, six of which could be seen stumbling around in corner of the library, purring loudly hugging each other and singing old war tunes, again, it's little of our concern. Harold had come to the believe that he was able to read kittens, an act that he greatly enjoyed and spent much time practicing. I had never gotten the knack for it, or rather I never found anything the kittens had said to be of much interest. Harold was obscessed. He began branching out towards what he hoped would be more fulfilling types of animal reading. As easily infered, he had tried his hand at monkey reading but it ended badly. Other animals, penguins, puppies, beetles, tropical fish, had seemed more promising but alas all had ended the same way. Perhaps that was it, maybe he snapped under the weight of his academia? But Harold wasn't like that... it had to be the fight.
The fight was on a saturday night, the main event and culmination of a week of prize fights. One million to this winner... there was a lot of stress. Harold had it all undercontrol though, it was nothing new to him. Just another day at the office, for him, it was in the bag. His opponent was a 600lbs endangered baby black rhino, he'd fought black rhino before and it would be nothing new this time. They gathered in the ring and after knocking gloves they when to their respective corners. Harold was drinking tequilla... so was the rhino. There was a problem the bell was broken, minuts passed with inaction. No one knew what to do. Eventually the local texan produced a pistol. He struck the bell with the handle of the weapon. The sudden jolting from rest startled the rhino and he charged. The charge frightened Harold who quickly emptied his wallot on the canvas and was last seen wandering the streets of sandiego naked but for his gloves and a medallion of the Albanian double headed eagle. It was clear that he had lost his nerve.
posted by Brett at 8:47 p.m.
1 Comments:
can i have some of whatever you're on? that was thoroughly entertaining - i thank you.
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