It.
One little word, such possibilities. Ebay be damned.
It. It. It.
I feel better already.
--
So the other day I'm walking down the street, and Don Quijote walks up to me, and he's got the face of Miguel de Unamuno instead of his own face, but they're quite similar so it takes me a minute to realize it, and then it changes to Gabriela Mistral's face and that's creepy as hell but oh well and then I wake up
--
Maria Christopher is hot.
Julie Christmas is scary.
Yet I'm fond of them both.
I'm just saying.
--
So the other day I'm driving along the highway, and the sun is setting, and it looks like flames and all that because it's scary red (red sun at night, sailor's delight my eye) and then the rays start to look like flames, undulate like flames, move further up the horizon, closer and closer and I realize they're flames and they're coming for me and I start to weave in between cars, totally Pole Position style (suck it, kiddos) but the flames are coming too quick and then there's a red light but I don't stop but neither do the other cars and one is about to hit me and then I wake up
--
Word processors have buttons.
Buttons must be pushed.
The screen screams in protest.
The darkness descends like so much nasty sackcloth.
--
So the other day I'm careening down a mountain path, barely keeping my feet underneath me, and I can feel there's guys chasing me down the mountainside and my pulse is pounding and my feet are going quicker and quicker and it's like in one of those scary anime cartoons and the world changes to flying stripes of colors and I turn around to perform my most frexy kung-fu and then I wake up
--
Frexy. What a word.
My little sister and her friend made it up.
Means “Frickin' sexy”.
Pure fourteen year old genius.
--
Hame hovit.