Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Dang

 
    A gardener could completely lose control of his emotions, arm himself to the teeth with death rays, ground penetrating radar, put a camp bed in his Vegetable Garden and demand passports  from anything that has eyes or no phloem.  And because I am delicate and susceptible to sun and become petulant in heat, I would require shade, and maybe some sort of cooling device which would mean an extension cord for electricity.


    And once there's electricity there might just as well be a television so that contact with the theoretical world can be maintained, and an ice cream machine or something that makes those doughnuts, with the strawberry jam inside, that constrict the digestive tracts of those much closer to the grave than the womb, and which can be found in the Grocery store next to the blue icing birthday cakes, and which are worth every last penny of doubt.


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