Wednesday, June 9, 2010


I fell off my tricycle at the profile camp. Handing me over to the golf club manufacturers caused a yam infestation of the medulla oblongata. Therefore, I must take a full month prescription of Valtrex to put the fire out in my trachea. Justifying my internal biological clock will help pay for the operation to fill Shoeless Joe Jackson's shoes. Giving in to my compulsions, I ate the Barry Manilow 8-tracks I had been saving since next November. Lofty expectations may, however, cause me to recoil Slinky protectors. Have a field day with my understood implications, says Mr. Bond. James Bond.


stappage said...

Past participles and the lack thereof, should always consider trying to frappe Jean Claude Van Dam movie soundtrack cd's. Being willing to rename his dog to indigo, the rehabilitation center called and wants us to camp out in Valdosta with the refrigerator doors taped on the outside of our roulette machine.

Kevin Gay said...

Was it, perhaps, a Russian roulette machine? Or am I being too altruistic?