All hail, Macbeth, who shall be King hereafter!
I'm hungry. I wish the pidgeon outside my window would go get me a chicken club. Or that a chicken would go get me a pidgeon pie. My brain is so dried up! And last night I dreamed about hotdogs. What's happening? I feel as old as my (literally) old friend Willie, who turned 88 on Friday, and whose birthday party I couldn't go to because I'm scared he's a serial killer. I bought a pair of skates and got 'em sharpened. I drafted a letter to my landlady about the noise problem in my apartment, asking to be let out of the lease. Should I send it? Or add it to that popular genre of "dead letters,"
which are never ever to be sent?
Houses and rooms are full of perfumes.
Q: If April Showers bring May Flowers, what do May Flowers bring?
A: Pilgrims.
which are never ever to be sent?
Houses and rooms are full of perfumes.
Q: If April Showers bring May Flowers, what do May Flowers bring?
A: Pilgrims.