Recent Postcards from Larry Basket
I've been exchanging some postcards with my friend Basket, who is visiting Tasmania. I'm not going to include my replies, but for those of you who worry about Basket, here is what he has to say:
Postcard from Basket 1: "You may as well know, I have four new parakeets now. The sea is beautiful," he wrote.
Postcard from Basket 2: "You've never taken a fancy to parakeets, have you? Terrible cuisine here, by the way."
Postcard from Basket 3: "You really ought to give my parakeets a chance. You might find that you like them. You might expand your horizons a bit," he wrote. "Been getting 10, 12 hours of sleep per night."
Postcard from Basket 4: "I am growing suspicious of the horses here. The gleam in their eye chills me to the marrow. Do you think they could be centaurs? Somebody stole my good hat."
Postcard from Basket 5: "I found a charming souvenir briefcase full of briefcases, each briefcase slightly smaller than the briefcase surrounding it. Like those Russian dolls. The smallest briefcase had in it a folded piece of bubble wrap. Wish you were here."
At any rate, that's the last I heard from Basket.
Postcard from Basket 1: "You may as well know, I have four new parakeets now. The sea is beautiful," he wrote.
Postcard from Basket 2: "You've never taken a fancy to parakeets, have you? Terrible cuisine here, by the way."
Postcard from Basket 3: "You really ought to give my parakeets a chance. You might find that you like them. You might expand your horizons a bit," he wrote. "Been getting 10, 12 hours of sleep per night."
Postcard from Basket 4: "I am growing suspicious of the horses here. The gleam in their eye chills me to the marrow. Do you think they could be centaurs? Somebody stole my good hat."
Postcard from Basket 5: "I found a charming souvenir briefcase full of briefcases, each briefcase slightly smaller than the briefcase surrounding it. Like those Russian dolls. The smallest briefcase had in it a folded piece of bubble wrap. Wish you were here."
At any rate, that's the last I heard from Basket.
2 Comments:
He sounds like he's having a grand ole' time.
Four and twenty parakeets baked in a pie...and they began to sing.
Terrible racket. Nauseating. You do not want any parakeets, no matter how many briefcases they own.
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