Gramiscus

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I am the Lord of the Dance. Behold my nimble legs. When I type it echoes in my house because my house is made of hollow rocks and stones and concrete walls. My metaphorical prison is the third rabbit that unbundles my laundry. With the third coming of the noon the flesh of fallen angels and then I said I wouldn't takeout but it's too high in calories.

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Dreadful Spat Club #15

by Gramiscus
2-10-04

I don't remember waking up that morning. All I remember is a sudden, sharp pain. Apparantly someone had broken into my house during the night.

Apparantly I gotten up to get a drink of milk during the night, and the robber hit me in the back of the head with a two by four.

I never had a better night's sleep in my life.

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