A sale is on
in hell
for angle grinders
and sledgehammers

Everything must go!

The devils
of my crapulence.
They bought.

The devils
of my grinding repent.
They bought.

Two of each.






For Pint, with apologies.

The gentle cuckoo of my alarm clock reminded me much, much more of an airhorn blown somewhere in the vicinity of my left eardrum. My good eye opened a crack, quickly closing again after seeing the dull grey, though still present light in the room. Hearing the time, however, made me blindly lunge out of the cuckoon of textbooks, leisure novels, towels and a lone sheet that lay in a tangled mass on the floor near the bed.

The living room rather resembles a tornado disaster area. Federal funding..... where's that application I completed last night? Oh yes, it's been saturated with, what did I eat last night? furthermore what did I guzzle? Ah, the bottle's over here. Take a sn.... I think I'm gonna lose my lunch. St. Jenevive's sweet red. the cork is lying somewhere nearby, nevermind, the kittens are chasing it through the kitchen. The chimes resounding from the computer sound more like somebody inserting a cactus up a hampster's ass, and I wouldn't blame the little guy for squealing like that if I were in his position. Stagger into the kitchen.

Why is my crystal wine glass sideways, and the counter sticky? Oh yes, somebody must've knocked it over last night. Open the top of the coffee maker, and praise the Mother, the grounds are already in there. I must've had the foresight to prepare the coffee the night before.
Stab feebly at the buttons, grab a glass of water and swallow my seizure meds. Cloudy out. Not gonna be too painful. Force down a few spoonfuls of oatmeal, chug the coffee and morning meds, splash icewater on my face to remove the fresh out of the grave look.

Time passes. Sit down in the comfortable pew. Why is the room tilting? God what a headache! Even the Tylenol isn't touching it, and that was about an hour ago. Ow, why is the pew so hard? Oh dear, I'm being lifted. Hello smelly old man, what are you doing? Oh, you're seeing if I can focus. No I'm not still drunk. I'm exhausted, okay? Don't you lecture me on the word of wisdom, I don't subscribe to your particular brand of comfort, thanks. The only comfort I want right now is a cold, moist cloth on my forehead and my bed.


Disclaimer: this writeup is in no way a bash on any decent Mormon noders, or any elderly or older noders. I generally have respect for all but a very few doctrinal varieties. I just don't like how my local ward treat me. That's all.

asbestos panties firmly in place

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