He wakes up, feeling like a Mack truck hit him...and then reversed...and hit him again. He stumbles blearily into the kitchen and fumbles at the coffee "Brew" switch. The gurgle begins and so he smiles through cracked lips. Ouch. There is a coffee mug with a bit of backwashed java still left in the cup and so he tangle-leggedly (?) walks to the microwave and nukes the blessed nectar. The microwave beeps; he reaches into its gut and pulls forth the brown stuff.He drinks.
He burns his tongue, but he don't care. Coincidentally, Jimmy cracked corn; he doesn't care about that, either. One eye pops its lizard hood. A hazel bead peers out onto a cloudy Saturday morning. He takes another gulp of the scalding liquid. His tongue is burned beyond recognition and hanging by a thread, but he don't care. (See: Jimmy and his corn.) His other eye, like a slithering snake, loses its cataract of sleep. Now two beads of hazel pop forth onto Weekend.
Whence had they come? Why, the cavernth of Thleep, thilly.
He scratches where he itches and he opens his back door and lets his hound bound through.
It will be a beautiful day; he can feel it in his bone. He pokes his head through his back door, out into the chill of the Morning Weekend, and he screeches, "Happy Saturday, motherfuckers!"
A rotten tomato flies, slow-motion from his left, and strikes him in his temple. As he folds to a knee, stunned almost to unconsciousness, he mumbles, "Jimmy cracked corn. And I don't care."
And that is not a confabulation. He truly does not.
6 comments:
I've always wondered what the hell cracking corn is all about. Now I know it involves ball scratching and the death of taste buds.
Thanks Jimmy!
Tangleleggedly is totally a word. But you have to lose the hyphen.
I'm reserving judgment on reheated backwashed java, but my initial impression is ew. However, if it works, it works!
Thee you in the morning, thilly.
Nighthawk: Ball-scratching is vastly underrated. If you practice hard enough, you too shall be as accomplishe--uh, forget I said anything. ;-)
Melly: ANY kind of java is MY kind of java. Now excuse me as I *kinda* clean up the house for the wild and wacky birthday fiesta to-morrow. I will clean tangle-leggedly.
(Where the hell did I put that blasted hyphen?)
BTW, Nan, I never said where I had scritchy-scratched...how on Earth did you know to what I was referring? You nailed it, though. =o) A bit o' bi-zall-scri-zatching never feels so good as when one does so in the fresh moaning. ;-)
Doesn't : "And let all balls itch" come right after "let there be light"? ;)
Haha, Nightie! I--yes--I do believe that it does. God knows the score. ;0
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