beer dispensing virgins aside, that story about your nona, it sounds a lot like something my grandmother would've done ... did. no kiddin', small world huh?   | speaking of strange, what's the deal with your friend? g? he's ... not well. | ya think? he's convinced you stole my bones. god knows what he thinks you did with the rest of me. | something bad must have happened to him before we met. newsflash: something bad happened to all of us. | something else. i don't think he could have survived, initially, if he was the way he is now. | why not? i could think of any number of, albeit, unlikely yet plausible events leading up to his accidental survival. ...i never told you that about me. | and what's happened to your accent? heyyyy. |
by Lliam Amor, Dan Beeston and the Goatlord.
©2009 Dan Beeston
For those hardy few of you who've met me and lived to tell the tale (or not tell the tale if you're keeping up your end of the bargain), you'll know I have a most interesting accent.
I have a few, actually. For the most part, they are kept under the sofa because THEY HAVE BEEN BAD AND DESERVE NO DIN-DINS UNTIL THEY CLEANS UP THE MESSES THEMSELVESES...
I've forgotten what I was going to say now, something about cheese, vinegarish wine and goat-song, mayhap?
