haiku, you coup
we all queue
for barbecue
Congrats, you not only killed this thread but haiku, as well!
I do like haiku
such short, fine, cryptic poems
count five-seven-five!
There was a young man of Japan
Whose limericks never would scan.
When someone asked why
He said with a sigh,
“It’s because I always try to fit as many words into the last line as I possibly can.”
It pisses me off that asparagus costs more per pound that some meat. :mad: Dammit!
E-xactly.
No objection.
Ex-laxy!
Smooth move there, Gato.
“During the asparagus season members are requested not to relieve themselves in the hatstand.” --from Cecil’s column.
Seems a reasonable request, and not just in the asparagus season.
Now I am confused. “In the hatstand”? A hatstand is a pole that ends in a ring with projections for hanging hats on. There is not much in the way of an “in” into which a person might relieve themself. More of an “on”.
Now, I can understand that a hatstand is sometimes combined with an umbrella stand, which does have an “in” into which relieving might take place (if it is that cold outside that creeps into your bones and makes your bladder cry – I assume that is the kind of relief in question, as the other is appalling to entertain), but does that hybrid go by “hatstand”, “umbrella stand” or by some other, unique name (“inclemaster”? “bracebrace”?) that I have not heard?
A hatstand is in the entryway. It’s a largish piece of furniture. It has a bench with an lid. You can store stuff in there. You can sit on the bench and remove your shoes or galoshes. (Aside, do peeps wear galoshes anymore?). Anywhoo, you don’t want take a dump in there. Your hostess may get perturbed.
Plus, there will be no TP handy.
You are standing in an open field west of a white house, with a boarded front door.
go north
North of House
You are facing the north side of a white house. There is no door here, and all the windows are boarded.
Shit, I fucked up. I ignore that…
North of House
You are facing the north side of a white house. There is no door here, and all the windows are boarded up. To the north a narrow path winds through the trees.
Don’t go there. It’s not a good idea. Bad things are down that path.
A path, a path,
a narrow, winding path.
A slasher there awaits
to give us our blood bath.
To go, to stay…
We haven’t any choice.
The script says “strip to skivvies”
and go there making noise.