Tuesday, June 15, 2004
A treat, as I promised you all.
Today I stood before the green grass, in awe of all its green-ness. I loosened the checker blanket tucked tightly under my arm and spread it out over his majesty. Ah, the emperor soft, I thought. I sat upon the blanket and unpacked my yellow rose-dotted cyan-handled beach bag. A bologna sandwich, one apple, a hershey's chocolate milk and, oh yes, a pack of cigarettes. I hastened to unscrew the top of the milk, thirsty as I was, spilling a tiny drop upon my red hooded sweatshirt. The wind blew through my beautiful orange hair, which I was clever to comb just before coming outside so I could enjoy the breeze. I would enjoy this little picnic with myself this day because all real winners drank milk just like it said in all those commercials years ago. Nobody could touch me this day for I was the champion. Not even Fluffy, my adoring poodle, who has a knack for shitting inside the house, could ruin this very moment. Like a good, strong person, I would finish my sandwich first, have some milk, take a bite of my apple, have some milk, take a deep breath, and then chug the rest like a true heroine. Tossing the apple aside I knew it was time to shine. All great races started in a slow trot. Yes. They do.
(the return of)
~The Epic Tales of Joggey-Smokey Lady, Volume 4
Grey (3:56 AM)