05/27/26
Peace, love and a penis
|  Waiter!by Skippy LeBonne   September 1, 2003 "A ball bearing wearing ranch dressing blessing Blanche's wedding? Upsetting," Ted grieved as he weaved his sleeve.
"Hey, what did you say?" Nate was late. "Speak up toward my head, Ted." "Whose blues did Louis use?" Ted said. "Choose? I ought not. Hey, have you met the redhead I caught sleeping on my cot?" Nate's spate of dates elated Ted who, sated, rated aphids one to ten. A four wined and dined a nine, then mated, milked and bilked her. "Sad, that fat cad," Ted lamented the male's betrayal. "You shoulda seen that green machine, a real operator. Waiter!" "Later, sir. Later." The waiter didn't wait. "I only wanted the quota of soda water afforded my daughter, that which I bought her. Did you see that? That guy looked at me like I was an otter potter," grumped Ted. "Please, he's only busy tonight," read Ed as he looked in his book. "It's a lonely sight, you sitting here with beer in your tears." "Cheers," Ted said to Ed, whose otter was dead. Ed puffed a cigar he'd lit in the car. "Smoke not lest ye be smoked," joked Ted, the smell already swelling his head. "Well hell, Ted, these smell just swell. Can't you tell?" he asked as Ted fell. Nate's plate nearly wrecked when Ted hit the deck. "What the heck, Ted? You almost made me jump and dump my rump!" "Sorry for the bump," said Ted, feeling like a chump, cursing and nursing his lump. "I guess I'll just breathe later. Waiter!" Quote of the Day“Fascism is not the devices and mechanisms that force us to our knees, but those who operate in the shadows and convince us "on our knees" is the place we're born. And the first seed of fascism is rent.”-Crosby in 3F, every first of the month Fortune 500 CookieToday is not your day, buddy—by a horrible bit of luck, your day was exactly six weeks before you were conceived. The good news is you look a lot like William Daniels; the bad news is that doesn't pay much these days. Watch out Thursday, when you're nearly buried in a deluge of Fangoria magazines that have been building up in your closet. Lucky numbers? You want luck? Eat me, sadsack.Try again later. Top-Selling Music Substitutes
 What Holds It All Together I'm careful with my stapler-- I use it when I have to, but I try not to be wasteful, lest the staples disappear I rarely use my Scotch tape; most things have to be stapled. I use paperclips aplenty, but my tape might last all year The... (8/18/03) Wet the Ted Loosely Ted did wet the bed, though none of the neighbors could hear. Not even when Teddy, his day wrecked already, wet the pillow with one salty tear. The bedroom was silent while in calculations violent Theodore did ponder his fate.... (8/4/03) America the Beautifart O beautiful farts stained the skies, For lumber made of brains, For purple Muppet maggot fleas A dove went fruity--GAY! America! America! God shaves his balls with thee. And this other dude Had a brother who'd Frenched a seal in the... (7/21/03)            |
Reproduction in hole or in parts without permission is likely to piss off her dad big time.