Sunday, March 20, 2005

Six Quips for a Misty Sunday Morning
(or S is for Sleep)

Disgusted with himself, he draws blood from an infected scab.

The best thing about instant can witness a nervous breakdown as it's being typed.

"Buzz, buzz," says the bumblebee. "I EAT RED MEAT!!!"

Plagued by misery and self-denial throughout her life, she suffocated to death breathing the crisp clean air of the Rocky Mountains while on vacation.

A headache is a hammer cracking away at my skull. A migraine is a drill piercing through skull and brain, teasing my optical nerve.

All my friends are imaginary. They're corporeal only during twilight hours.

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