Apr
09
2005

Last Night, I Had a Dream

In it, all the chickens whose wings I had eaten slathered with hot sauce came looking for me. And they wanted revenge.

And they showed up on my front lawn. And demanded I come out and answer to them for having consumed bits of their bodies.

I did come out. And I took one look at them and said, "Oh, there you are! I hate leaving a job unfinished."

Then I scooped them all up and rotisserie'd them in the back yard. I left one alive to spread the word of the fate of its armless fellows. And the ones I did not eat I put in the freezer for later.

That was a great dream.

Written by Widge in: General BS |

1 Comment »

  • Damian says:

    "Just call me The Wingman." And then you break out blue cheese from your condoment belt. Wait… I gotta go eat. Now I'm just plain hungry. This all your fault.

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Widge with a conundrum

This is me.

No, really.

I am a writer, poet, spoken word performer, actor, singer, improviser, content creation and idea machine, freelance iconoclast, and the internet's janitor that dispenses pop culture wisdom to the protagonist of your choice. I have seen too many movies, read too many comic books, and when the zombies finally come, I'm the one you want to call. I sure as hell won't answer the phone, but it's the thought that counts. I advise people on the net, websites and technology, because I know these things instead of having a life or sleeping.

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