I'm Fine Now, Thanks
Took a brief saunter out-of-doors yesterday evening and was transfixed by the rather outlandish night-sky: concentric puffles of clouds encircled the razor-white moon and all that, with a hint of holy seraphim descending in tunnel formation. To top it off, when I returned home I found a plate of warm sausages on the back step. Naturally I assumed they were for me; as I ate the sausages the sky cracked and the wind whipped through my hair and 'mid this tumult I heard from far ancestral voices prophesying war. Intoxicating! At any rate, this morning I suffered the worst food poisoning of my life.
7 Comments:
That Prophecy Sausage is notoriously rough on one's inner workings. That's why I tend to choose Johnsonville. It is well known that oracles want nothing to do with Wisconsin.
In weather like that, any sausages you find are for the Dog Star.
I once stumbled across some deep fried tofu (I've eschewed meat ever since a traumatic visit to a certain Scottish eatery) that seemed to have instilled in me the ability to know what the exact temperature in downtown Cleveland was as I was eating it (the tofu, not Cleveland). No food poisoning to report, but I did spontaneously grow a new appendage, the use of which I'm still trying to figure out. Life's weird, eh?
Esther: I mention you in my piece today (Sunday), in a sort of complimentary way.
Coming from Horsetail Snake's place. Sorry about the food poisoning. If' it's any consolation you made me laugh.
Yowza..sorry you've got the runs. Hoss sent me over to say "feel better soon".
If Hoss likes it, it must be funny. Enjoyed your blog.
Never. Eat. Warm. Sausages. Off. The. Doorstep.
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