07/28/26
Jesus' Favorite Website
|  Lonely Cloudby Laurence Trundle Lawrence   December 8, 2003 I wandered lonely as a cloud,
it was Halloween and I had about sixty pounds of cotton glued to my leotards. And nobody wanted to trick or treat with a kid who was dressed up like a that. Needless to say, being seven sucked bad. The stars shone down like Christmas lights all flashing in crazy sequences that made me nauseous and I got sick on the tree stand. That was on Christmas, but the stars made me sick like that too. If there'd been a tree stand there I can't say I wouldn't have sicked on it but that would have been pretty weird to see on Halloween unless it was holding up a pumpkin tree or something. So to recap, I was a lonely seven-year-old cloud and I almost barfed. But then I saw a shitload of flowers like at least seven possibly more. And I thought of how if I ate all those flowers maybe I could fly. Hey, I was seven. But then this guy in a wife-beater popped out his door and started yelling about how he was going to punt my little ass across the street if I didn't stop eating all his flowers. So I hauled ass fastly as a cloud that doesn't want to get its ass kicked by a bigger cloud and ran all the way to my cloud house. But even now, when huger pangs sometimes I think of having a flower burrito or something. When the florist has his back turned Quick! Hey screw you, man I never liked your flower shop anyway. Quote of the Day“Freedom is a fragile thing, and must be protected; however, it is nowhere near as fragile as my aunt's vase, so it seems a fair exchange to lock you in your room for two weeks, you little hooligan.”-Mom Fortune 500 CookieMore fruit, dammit!—more fruit, I say! Time to give up the blackmail scheme; there's no getting blood from a stone. Flush once for yes, twice for no. You'll bury all your old grudges this week, and grandpa—sorry, I suppose we could have let you know in a nicer way. Bad dog goes horrible dog this weekend.Try again later. Least Popular |
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slapped so hard his beak was loose. But Bruce and Luce they called truce, and drank a can of blue moose juice. The goose he drank it through a sluice. Norman Snoran, small recluse, lives deep inside a red caboose. He's solitary, one... (10/27/03)
Reproduction in hole or in parts without permission is likely to piss off her dad big time.