Iron Eagle, Rubber Chicken

Certainly, I must have failed the test of time. I knew I should have studied more.
While sitting in some dive and sipping on some wine, I spotted a sore for sight eyes across the see of drunken faces. Try as I did, I could not turn away. That’s when she caught me staring in her direction. It may have been that puddle of drool which formed upon my table under my tongue that gave me up for ransom – the same tongue I once used to lick ice cream when I was a child. And that’s when it hit me… I thought I knew her from somewhere I’ve never been before.
Ah, yes! There she was, standing tall and making everyone sweat bullets. She had all the sex appeal of Himmler’s SS… and a personality to match. And, yes! In her eyes, a sinister smile shined like the fall of the Roman Empire. I just had to wake up… even though I hadn’t slept in days.
A long time ago, on a bar stool just three feet away, a new bill was written on a cocktail napkin and voted into law. Never drink rum while unconscious, especially if you’re under three feet tall.
When the lights go out all across Kansas and Toto’s nowhere to be found, remember the Jabberwocky, my friends. Not that it has anything to do with the cost of coffee at the local watering hole, but it does bring to mind how simple things were back in the hay-day of our lives. Well… unless, of course, you’re allergic to hay. But, hey! No baldy’s perfect.

About Mihkael Fournier

Photographer, Graphic Artist, Writer/Novelist, Clown Magician
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