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<blockquote data-quote="Tom Cashel" data-source="post: 990970" data-attributes="member: 321"><p><em>Here’s why it’s not dead:</em></p><p></p><p>Just outside the back door is a green pasture, and from it a wind like water’s shine flaps the flowered curtains in the windows. Sometimes its nice just to lean up against the doorjamb, feel the shoulder bones and flesh rest not too uncomfortably in that wooden notch still waiting to be sanded and refinished, and breathe in clean air. When the nostrils catch a wisp of pollen, reminiscent of that garden Gramps insisted on weeding every day until his knees gave out, one wonders if maybe the bee who sent that smell did so on purpose...or was it just a side-effect of someone else’s day intruding on mine? A puffy white streak cuts across the blue. Who is on that plane and why can’t it be me? The back porch is ramshackle, peeling, warped boards that clunk under boots. The raccoons trill warnings from below whenever I set foot on their roof. But I don’t tend to eviction, I’m no landlord, they may be squatters but more power to them. When that swaying field of long green is filling my eyes I’m ready to overlook just about anything.</p><p></p><p><em>Why the townsfolk pledged their time and sweat and hard-earned dollars for a brand new banner to welcome home the prodigal son, Hamilton G. Swill, to their great home state of Ohio:</em></p><p></p><p>Clackety-clackety goes the train wheels over wooden ties, driven down iron rails, belching smoke from the stack. Next stop: Cleveland.</p><p></p><p><em>How?</em></p><p></p><p>Internal combustion. Coal, to be more specific than you deserve.</p><p></p><p><em>Off-topic:</em></p><p></p><p>If a thorn sticks in the heel when no one’s around to feel it...does it make a pain?</p><p></p><p><em>Remembering.</em></p><p></p><p>Been a long time since I ate any Cap’n Crunch.</p><p></p><p><em>Quaquaversal?</em></p><p></p><p><em>Every</em> direction at once? Give it a try. Big Lebowski avatars and <em>Principia Discordia</em> sigs ain’t got nothing on a good old shot of Jameson by the hearth on a cold, cold day.</p><p></p><p><em>ring, ring</em></p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Hi there...Jim?”</p><p>“Hey Mike. How’s everything?”</p><p>“All right...except I got some raccoons holed up under my back porch.”</p><p>Pause. “Uh, kinda busy around here today, what with the big homecoming.”</p><p>“Ham Swill can wait a bit, don’t’cha think?”</p><p>Pause. “You’re a real thorn in my heel sometimes, you know that?”</p><p>“That’s just, like, your opinion man.”</p><p>“Yeah. I’ll be right over.”</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Tom Cashel, post: 990970, member: 321"] [i]Here’s why it’s not dead:[/i] Just outside the back door is a green pasture, and from it a wind like water’s shine flaps the flowered curtains in the windows. Sometimes its nice just to lean up against the doorjamb, feel the shoulder bones and flesh rest not too uncomfortably in that wooden notch still waiting to be sanded and refinished, and breathe in clean air. When the nostrils catch a wisp of pollen, reminiscent of that garden Gramps insisted on weeding every day until his knees gave out, one wonders if maybe the bee who sent that smell did so on purpose...or was it just a side-effect of someone else’s day intruding on mine? A puffy white streak cuts across the blue. Who is on that plane and why can’t it be me? The back porch is ramshackle, peeling, warped boards that clunk under boots. The raccoons trill warnings from below whenever I set foot on their roof. But I don’t tend to eviction, I’m no landlord, they may be squatters but more power to them. When that swaying field of long green is filling my eyes I’m ready to overlook just about anything. [i]Why the townsfolk pledged their time and sweat and hard-earned dollars for a brand new banner to welcome home the prodigal son, Hamilton G. Swill, to their great home state of Ohio:[/i] Clackety-clackety goes the train wheels over wooden ties, driven down iron rails, belching smoke from the stack. Next stop: Cleveland. [i]How?[/i] Internal combustion. Coal, to be more specific than you deserve. [i]Off-topic:[/i] If a thorn sticks in the heel when no one’s around to feel it...does it make a pain? [i]Remembering.[/i] Been a long time since I ate any Cap’n Crunch. [i]Quaquaversal?[/i] [i]Every[/i] direction at once? Give it a try. Big Lebowski avatars and [i]Principia Discordia[/i] sigs ain’t got nothing on a good old shot of Jameson by the hearth on a cold, cold day. [i]ring, ring[/i] “Hello?” “Hi there...Jim?” “Hey Mike. How’s everything?” “All right...except I got some raccoons holed up under my back porch.” Pause. “Uh, kinda busy around here today, what with the big homecoming.” “Ham Swill can wait a bit, don’t’cha think?” Pause. “You’re a real thorn in my heel sometimes, you know that?” “That’s just, like, your opinion man.” “Yeah. I’ll be right over.” [/QUOTE]
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