Hello . . . this is Joe. Welcome to A Daily Drabble. Please add 100 words of prose or poetry as a comment on any date you want and in any order you want. Please reply on the drabbles you like. I'll moderate the comments at night, and they'll appear the next day. This is for everyone!
“Growing chest hair—why you listen to other Cats—you got the best hair”: but this image leaves me cold, like when I have to hear their hot air when I have to go from here to there and can’t control the dial. I smile so you know I’m playing cute; and when you think I’ve gone too-too, I’ll play my bow and shoot: you call it violence, I call it violin. I am what I am: my wrists feed me like ham. Eventually you got to eat. I’ll sit you at the table I booked; I’ll spoon you hollandaise.
ReplyDeleteWhy so dainty the dining and the drinking of wine? If I were there, I’d walk about bare, and grab fistfuls of the food and seem quite rude. I’d comment that your rings look like old lady blings, and I’d bash your new boyfriend upside the head with the bottle. I’d dip my dangles in the fondue, and with my mouth agape, I’d chew. I might even spit on the pricey carpet—I might even fart loud while strutting about proud. Don’t even ask what I’d do with the bread. Cut the cheese, please, because the tasty pig is dead.
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