**Ha--I found this entry as I ransacked the pages of stuff I wrote while still in AL. As usual, exploring the unknown, I searched for a quiet spot to write and also to search out these alleged goats my friend Erin always sees down by the Mobile Bay. Seems fishy. In any case, this made me laugh so hard just now I thought I'd post it**
There's a strange sense that as I peddle through these waterside weeds I'm able to come upon a dead body--or maybe even an arm, waving at me no less. Or worse yet, a live body. Every 3 seconds I gleam behind me in quiet desperation of survival. With every rotation, my feet are troubled as to where they should plant themselves--either between the empty bucket of Church's Chicken, used spark plugs, discarded Marlboro Light butts, a soggy Ziplock Bag box, or an arm? ...Ahh! What the... Oh wait. Never mind.
You know what is scary though?RIGHT NOW! When I think I'm all alone and I suddenly smell fresh cigar permeating the stale air. Typical me right now, "Oh, aren't these flowers pretty, let's frolic in the marsh. Oh, hello, psycho killer from the swamp. What's your name?"
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5 comments:
That is really funny
from my South African perspective that isn't faunny at all because chances are REALLY good that there would really have been a Phsyco killer in the South African context. (Or perhaps just some kid that wonders what it feels like to kill someone).
granted, but we don't live in south africa, and in the CONTEXT of the united states it is rather unlikely, therefore ironic, hence humorous... and if chances are really that good of some random child who wonders what killing a man would be, why don't you move? the u.s. is fairly friendly with s.a., i'm sure they would grant you a passport and visa...
Um...what do you say to that?
yeah that was a shot to the face... i like it. strong, with a dash of a real sense of wry wit.
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