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williamjayarcher

Upon a Gilded Chicken

Ice cream, anyone? Didn’t think so. You needed a bumblebee to assist with the chores today, didn’t you? It’s okay. I won’t tell.


Your left shoe was snickering at the floor all day long. You know what that means? It means no flying for you. that’s what it means. I told you what would happen, and yet, you chose to eat cold porridge. They don’t do that in space, you know. Not any more. It’s all warmy and nicey up there.


We juggled the steak knives from about noon ‘til death do us part. Blood everywhere. But I do think we learned the lesson: if you give four apples to Jimmy and then Melissa drives a plastic wagon over a cliff, then Gertrude.

Haha! That’s how an upside-down cow cries. But we won’t know that until we get some leverage into this pudding’s equity portfolio.


They like cocaine. It makes them nervous.


I'm not naming names here, buuuttttt... Stanley, and Georgie, and Rudolph, and Emile Farquad III.


It was a known fact in those days that a new saddle could carry a man through hard times. The box of shells was just to spruce up the house a bit.


I think that tomorrow we’ll go for lunch with that nice family of bottle-nose best. And Bo knows yo mama. She’s a fine cook. She really is. And that sexy fat babe smokes ham, post-coitus.


Oh you so cray, cray! Down by the bay, bay. I ate some hay, haayyyy, hayyyy. It’s what gay horses say, nay?

We both just sat on the bench in the rain and talked for hours and hours about different kinds of rope, the day we learned about his mother. We didn’t solve any major world issues, but we didn’t feel hungry afterwards.


There was a pub on the sad, soggy stroll home, so we strapped some dynamite under our coats and went for a swim. Floating upon a sea of rapturous despair, we forgot everything we knew about memories, until they told us it was time. Not with words, just a gentle nod. It was very subtle, but we knew.


Four kinds of beetles brought about the downfall of Pope Ourri XXX. He denounced accusations of complicity in the ensuing scandal. They all knew the truth, though. He never received any more dinner invitations to the halls of the Lord after that one.

Nice try, Jackass!


Thunder only happens when clouds dance. And you have no pants. Pants. A dog runs, then pants. First shoes, then pants. My dog chewed my shoes. No dancing for me. Back to the bench.


Hats in hand, they filed past the casket. There were so many tears. I tried duct-taping all that water in my head, but it was of no use. Any of it. Instead, Ted read about a dead hamster and went to bed. The thrice-accursed son of a motherless goat! No gold for you, salacious one!


Frankincense and heart murmurs are the bedfellows of Bug. And a river shall divide the city with two names.

Lay your money down and gather round to shake hands with this potato named Garth. A little butter with some fried Kung-fu. Delicious! And if you feel guilty about it, we’ll dig a grave and you can throw up into it.


Oh Monty, your python is so big!


It’s risky business being this puce. It’s a shade too purple. Let's add some lamp.

Shaky handstands when the bands disembark from a craft called Wynona. She chose it herself. So much strength in that statement. It carries the weight of the world on its shoulders.

One stone. One. Big. Stone. Round and round and round we went. Flung into a future we never bargained for. We should have. Might have gotten a better deal.


When it started, it was idle no more.

Soon, they were thrown into a situation they never counted on. But it quickly morphed into a very dangerous abacus. And you can count on that when you’re sittin’ at the table. But there’ll be plenty of time for counting Draculas later, so take out your protractors, children.

Let us all now bow our heads and ask for protraction from ourselves. You’ll learn how to hurt each other better with a little instruction. Which we can provide, for the cost of your souls.


Take the damn ice-cream and sound the funeral bell, cuz when the last bee dies, we shall have a proper wake. A real party as the foliage turns brown and never turns right. Not even with sunshine or electrolyte drinks. Nor a smile and a wish that it could all be re-attempted.


If only we could have made the decisions. But instead, they made vicious incisions, stole the planet, and went camping in hell. With the Teletubbies. Those rotten little bastards.


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