Monday, September 19, 2011

September 19th

The roof of my mouth itches. It's become a serious ailment. It itches all the time. The only way to scratch it is to make this weird retching noise from the back of my throat. A sound not unlike contemporary zombies.

It is no longer clear if my underwear is going to make through each fart. With each fart, the danger must be continually re-evaluated. Tricky, tricky, tricky.

I want to make magic with beets. Boy. I love beets.


kmc

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