I’m back at that point where people are asking me if I’m mad at them, wondering why I don’t write. I don’t fucking know. Like I said recently, sometimes the shark gets you. I can’t seen to communicate at all – I’m sittin’ here alone this eve – family gone again for a short trip […]
I’m back at that point where people are asking me if I’m mad at them, wondering why I don’t write.
I don’t fucking know. Like I said recently, sometimes the shark gets you.
I can’t seen to communicate at all – I’m sittin’ here alone this eve – family gone again for a short trip – and feeling like unplugging phones and shutting down my internet connection and just drinking myself stupid, wishing I had some sorta goofballs that’d knock me into dreamland for a good day and a half.
Maybe not blogging is the new blogging.
Land Shark: [ muffled voice ] Mrs. Arlsbergerhh??
Woman #2: Who?
Land Shark: [ muffled voice ] Mrs. Johnannesburrrr??
Woman #2: Who is it?
Land Shark: [ muffled voice ] Flowers.
Woman #2: Flowers? From whom?
Land Shark: [ muffled voice ] Plumber, ma’am..
Woman #2: I don’t need a plumber. You’re that clever shark, aren’t you?
Land Shark: [ muffled voice ] Candygram.
Woman #2: Candygram, my foot! Get out of here before I call the proper authorities. You’re the shark, and you know it.
Land Shark: [ muffled voice ] I’m only a dolphin, ma’am..
Woman #2: A dolphin? Well.. okay..
[ she opens the door, as the shark pulls her screaming into the hallway ]
[ dissolve to Sheriff’s Office, Matt Hooper lifts up cloth napkin covering plate, then winces and looks away ]