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November 9, 2006
11.09.06
"Huh. I always thought that was a metaphor."
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Jim: Don't Rain On My Parade
Langley grimaced. Yesterday, large herds of horses signaled a stable economy. Today, however, there were dark clouds on the horizon and the sky vomited pennies. That could only mean change was in the air. And, of course, an ill wind blows no good.
Langley needed a Master Economist to help him weather the upcoming financial storm. Too bad the Martian economic apprentices were all so green.
Now, economics is an eat-or-be-eaten profession. Fortunately, Master Economist Ruby already had breakfast by then. Anyway, her hands were tied.
“You should save for a rainy day,” Ruby advised. She was quite a gem!
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Tanya: Metamorphosis
Today has been a Kafkaesque nightmare. Yet I awoke with not a carapace and six legs, but a hairy snout and cloven hooves. I fled my apartment, in fear that my landlord would find me, but was quickly captured.
I found myself here, after being transported wretchedly, and now the locals are attempting to welcome me. They push me toward a depression in the ground, a pit with a stench like the bowels of hell.
When I will not go willingly, they force me. I cringe, resisting, as my hooves sink into the filth, and yet… suddenly everything seems wonderful.
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David: Never Did Run Smooth
“Hey,” Marco exclaimed, “what happened to the lights?”
Tina replied, “Did the power go out?”
Marco considered. “No, the stereo is still playing, so we have juice. And the odds of a freak wind blowing out both candles at the exact same moment every light bulb in the room burned out is pretty small, I expect.”
Tina reached out, trying to find Marco by touch. “Oh, God. I’m frightened.” She knocked over what sounded like a wine glass. “Why did this happen?”
“I don’t know. All I did was tell you that I love you.”
“Marco…”
“Polo.”
“That’s not funny.”
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Stacy: Initiative
“Jerry! Hey, man, what the hell are you doing?”
“Jerry, come on, quick fucking around! You’re going to get hurt doing that…”
“Run, you're supposed to RUN!”
“What the…? Jerry, turn around, RUN!!!”
“WHOAH! Hoooly shit, did you see that?”
“Quick, somebody call 911! Man, give me your shirt, I’ll see if I remember how to make a tourniquet…”
---
“Damn, would you just look at that mess.”
“I know, that bull really did a number on him, didn’t it.”
“What the hell was he thinking? We’re supposed to run with them.”
“Who knows? Jerry was always so goddamned literal.”
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Ted: J.L.S. Lives
'Perfect speed is being there.'
Murry looked through the window of the steel horse of the prairie, wishing he was already in the city.
The Red men came at the caress of night's bosom, coyotes stalking.
The cat paws of mist rolled over, a protective blanket around the womb or tomb where Murry cowered.
Wishing, wishing, wishing...a frog with wings.
Sudden buttery daylight poured over his eyes.
San Francisco: the bay a whore with beggers suckling her tits, opened her arms to him as he made good his escape.
The train was a ghost, the octopus of tracks long gone.
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