i think i got a tattoo. yes, i'm sure of it now.

the title says it all.
but here's more.

"what have you inked?", you ask.

"well, it's a diamond with black lightning bolts in it. on my foot.", says me back.

"oh." (unimpressed, i can tell.)

"it hurt really bad", my mouth then shrivels and i become a pillar of salt, like in the Bible.

see me later?
deal!


from,
dave

(prefix)zilla.

Rosh Hashana 'Round the Rosie.
o' majesty!
o' the shudder that becomes me when the contents of the top of my bod slip through the white knuckles of time, tripped, fallen through.
what?
so much can and can't be said,
either ether will do, and do the job rightly.
who is driving?
'shotgun,' cried Meryl (her friends called her 'Mer', before the comet hit and they all died.)
'firestorm!' said the comet.
o' majesty.
this is overuse.

----------------------

Tom From Work showed me the rifle he made. "cool," i said, because i have nothing else to say about hand-made rifles. Tom From Work is hellbent on helping me buy a pair of night-vision goggles, because i told him i want a pair so i can go on hikes through the woods at night. he gets a 10% discount.

is a work story considered a cop-out?