It is times like these that the Black Bitter God was made for (add lots of trouble for the sugar material). Drink six or seven and welcome to the speed-bliss connection.
I think I'll have scrambled eggs. They're all in little shells I left my wallet in the bathroom. Why was I born. Make me an offer I can refuse. Perhaps then my umbilical cord syndrome will go away. What ever happened to mythology -- I think it wweenntt out with the flapper dress. Or the fountain pen. And why is everyone either an intelligent PSYCOTIC or a Sane Idolistic Moron.
The answers to these and other stupid Zippyisms will never be delt with so fuck off. Please.
THERE ISN'T ENDLESS ANYTHING THEREISN'T ENDLESS ANYTHING SO STOP TRYING TO FUCKING MAKE EVERYTHING LAST GODDAMMIT.
I can't seem to find the door, please, uh....do you think you could show me how to get to the bathroom from here? You see, I, uh...left my ID in my other, uh...sock and I can't seem to find your picture anymore. Well, it doesn't matter anyway, because I really have to leave....there was another gathering I was at...no, I'm not really sure you could call it a party, because the people weren't having any fun..I don't think they'd mind if you came, too, though...do you know how to get there because I sure can't remember where it was or who the people we're...One of them told me all their names, and they were all called Barnabas...we could look it up in the phone book, except they don't have one here. Why does it have to smell that way in here? Can't they call the police or someone else who can make it smell different? We could all fart a lot, that might help...well, I gotta go because as I said before I was at this funeral and they'll be expecting me. Write if you get work.
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