Something keeps breaking and I have to restore back to a previous time. I hate guessing what’s going on. And I add this nonsense to my list of why i should be dead. I hope some day there will be an accounting of all these provocations and humiliations that lead to …. [that which can not be politely said] and I deny everything
A barking dog and Tom-Dick-and-Harry howling cats kept me awake all night so at dawn, I, in a rambling morning way, went to the Supermarket. The Sandpaper™ Chicken breast tenderloins were on sale for $3.99 a pound. That’s the good news.
(But before the bad news, talking dogs are always a good topic.
Q. What does the dog say when she walks over sandpaper?
A. Rough, rough, err ruff, grrr, spell check.
Q. What does the dog say when she wants you to get the cat off the top of the house?
A. Roof, roof.
Q. What does she say when people do extravagent supplications before the King?
A. Bow wow.)
But I had wanted to read the review of a re-make of Tennessee Williams’ “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof,” and a barking dog told me I should rush to the Supermarket to get chicken cutlets on sale.
I went to the local “Shoppy Food Masque™” store to contemplate how I would make a gourmet chicken dish cheap. I thought that before I decided how much to buy that I should go to the back of the store where they have a portal to an Alternate Universe where I could consult with a wise chef who’d give me a good recipe with cheap ingrediants.
But I couldn’t remember the password. It had something to do with “guts”.
So I went back to the show case for cutlets to get my chicken breast tenderloins on sale for only $3.99 a pound weight. But they didn’t have them, and I thought maybe it was some sort of bait-and-switch subterfuge. But I didn’t feel like putting bait on a hook and catching some deluxe fish in the Supermarket special fun tank (catch a fish and you get it for free after paying for a fishing license and a lobster.)
The good news was that I remembered that the password was “tenderloin.” So I went to the back of the store and entered an Alternative Universe.
The sage gave me a recipe, but no chicken cutlets.
Sometimes you just can’t rely on talking dogs to bark up the right tree.
tattletale drum tattooed
in a taunt tautology taught
not in stormy weather for
font of knowledge too small too to
plane a plane tree smooth enough
to table all motions of debate
in airs in plain view too
or not to too toot;
fly plane fly