What night will it be? This one, probably. Too late once more. If only I could have saved the tiny time traveler from falling off that huge crevice, none of this would be happening right now.
But he fell and time fell with him. He screamed for a long time as he fell (which I found a little ironic), and I eventually got bored and went to look for a Ninplaybox 480 game system, only to find that since the tiny time traveler had fallen, there was no such thing.
Strange feelings, like calluses inside my brain, and my soul feels like the outside of a walnut shell—hard, but reminiscent of a statue’s scrotum. What’s inside?
The birds don’t hate me as much as they used to, I think, but they’re still judging me…
I’m disturbed by the ripping sounds that I hear in my dreams, but when I wake up, I can make no sense of them. Yet I always have a toothache.
My unscented deodorant smells really good…my sport-scented deodorant smells like something you would dump on the engine of your car to clean off the grease.
What if you put a bag of popcorn into the microwave and then dropped dead before it was finished popping? Would you feel like a jerk? What if it wasn’t microwave popcorn, but instead, the regular kind? Then would you feel like a jerk? Or would you just feel like a corpse?
A shadow just barked at me, and I barked at it back, and it ran away—I’m feeling pretty tough right now.
If history repeats itself, I’m actually twice the badass that I pretend to be.
And four times the badass that I pretend not to be…
I’ve decided that if you don’t want to have sex with a midget, you just don’t have an adventurous heart…unless you’re a midget. If you’re a midget, you have to have sex with a tiger to prove you have an adventurous heart. Midgets have a pretty hard life.
Not nearly as hard as a dung beetle’s, though.
What do you mean, my fifteen minutes are up? I’m just getting’ started.