Literary attempts by a man of no discernible merit.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Old News
For God's sake, get this battering ram out of the living room. There's no space for it. Every time I walk from the front door to the kitchen I have to step over it, and sooner or later, I'll trip and break my neck. It's old news. You don't even use the thing anymore.
I don't want to see it, I don't want to hear about it, I don't want to know where it went. I want to forget it ever existed. Get it out of the house.
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