Undeniable Fact: Rub this on his flippers

Thursday, October 12, 2006

It's sweat... sweat... that's why! All those woolen clothes, yes. I can see the sweat dripping down his forehead between his square little glasses and down his fat face. A wig would soak some of it up. But no wigs for him! Salty, wet. Sal-et... sawet... sweat. The summer of 1776 was hot, that's why! That's why... That's whyyyyyyyyy..... So brazen the way he always forced his inventions on the people. All because of sweat! A sweat monster! A sweat golem! On the grassy knoll there is a stenographer! He will tell you something about sweat, oh hoh, yes I assure you.

And then we'll be on the same page. Why does my thumbnail itch? I know the answer yet I look closer. And there is his fat bespectacled face. Right on my thumbnail. A prison for the scoundrel of scoundrels... but why on my very thumb?! How did I earn this two edged sword of honor and disgrace? Was I born into it? Or is the answer simpler, more elegant, more ... sinister.

Sweat. That's why. The bastard bathed in it his whole life, and now, thrown from his word-ties, he is sweat! He breathes it, eats it, drinks it, and kneads it with his toes. But the mother's milk-well has run dry. Salt on the lips. Need the elixir. But where to find it?

On my thumbnail! It is not that he cannot leave that prison, but that he dares not! That cuticle, that source of the tincture he craves. A suckling, greedy little pig, practically gnawing at my cuticle, all for a little sweat. How far the mighty have fallen!

He comes in his chariot, pulled by a thousand sasquatch, streaking across the sky. He has come to reclaim it. But my brow will be dry ... as a kite by then. I will construct a gossamer barrier out of my toenails! He will not see me, but the sasquatch know my scent. Where to hide? Where to hide? Wheeeeeeeeeeeere tooooooooooooo hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiddddde?

Burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble, burble.

Freezer burned. Damned hot pockets should come with a warrantee against freezer burn. What is this? Some secretion of the penguin? That explains why there are feathers everywhere! And who brought me this lemonade?

Got to swim! No time to rest. Swim to shore! Shore. Sure. Shawl. Shark. Shark? SHARK! Got to swim! Everybody out of the pool! Where did the water go?

Sweat! That's why! Always back to sweat.

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2 Comments:

Blogger Victor said...

true

8:41 AM  
Blogger Sly Hoax said...

undeniable as ever!

6:41 PM  

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