At the back of the hill

Warning: May contain traces of soy, wheat, lecithin and tree nuts. That you are here
strongly suggests that you are either omnivorous, or a glutton.
And that you might like cheese-doodles.
Please form a caseophilic line to the right. Thank you.

Thursday, April 12, 2018


My ex, who is still my apartment mate after all this time, sleeps with a large penguin. He showed up one day, and other than occasionally radiating gloom because he cannot fly, he's a splendid fellow albeit innocent.
The innocent and unreservedly nice critters are on her side.
The unstable faction (total anarchists!) lives on mine.
Her room is neat in consequence, mine is not.
Naturally I blame my fuzzy roomies.
Because I am exemplary.

Well, okay, I'm actually a slob. I see no reason to clean house when it's so unlikely anyone will visit. Both she and I are not what you would call social butterflies, and the creatures on my side might throw dirty socks at any visitors of whom they disapprove. And I would have to apologize.

I am somewhat jealous, though. He and I could talk about herring together, and not being able to fly. As a Dutchman, I know from herring, and I do not fly. The assorted fuzzies are no help in either regard, as they neither grasp the twin heartaches of herring-lack and flightlessness, nor show much sympathy for these afflictions.

Sometimes, late at night, I hear a soft murmuring from that room.
It's probably a large flightless aquatic bird discussing fish.

Herring is a wonderful thing.
Take it from me, I know.

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