At the back of the hill

Warning: If you stay here long enough you will gain weight! Grazing here strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton. And you might like cheese-doodles.
BTW: I'm presently searching for another person who likes cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Sunday, July 31, 2016


Please don't mess with me when I've just finished work! As I was heading home from the bus stop, someone hollered out: "hey dude, watcha got in the Hello Kitty backpack". What I actually had in there this evening -- like all evenings, all mornings, and all the time -- was a plurality of pipes and pipe tobacco, plus pipe cleaners (both kinds), tampers, matches, aspirin, and an extra tin of small cigarillos. And pens, paper, binder clips.
But given his tone, I did not wish to explain that.
Or the operative idea behind the bag.
The why. Or the wherefore.
A gestalt.

Or, for that matter, that if anybody grabs it, I am certain I can run down the juvenile miscreant and if need be wrestle her to the ground.

"Fresh baby parts. I'm sewing them into little angels and setting them free!"

The inspired part of that answer was that I looked hugely excited while yelling at him. Like it was the very bestest idea in the world.
Why, nobody else had ever had that idea!

What does anybody have in their bag?
Whatever the bag looks like?

Stuff. They have stuff in their bag. It's none of your business, no matter how much beer you've been drinking during daylight hours.
You snozzled ex-frat boy.

It's stuff.

NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.


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