latchbeam

I am bored. Bored am I. Latch is bored. Bored is Latch...

I'll post a poem by the great Jimmy Tango:

Fog

The next time there's a really, really dense fog, I'm going to try a little experiment. I know from keen observation that the chick next door leaves for work at around 7:15 a.m. At about 10 after seven, I'll head outside, ever so quietly, and stand about 100 yards from her car. I won't be able to see her, because the fog is so thick, but I'll hear her front door shut. It's loud as fuck. As I hear her going down the steps, I'll take off in a dead sprint heading straight toward her. She'll probably hear my thunderous footsteps on the pavement as she gets close to her car, and then she'll look up. She might fumble with her keys as she hurries to get in the car...not knowing what's coming with the footsteps. As I sprint toward her, I'll start to hear a low moaning sound as her fear builds. Then she'll start to see me. Only she won't know it's me, because I'll be wearing a giant pink bunny rabbit costume! Her moan will turn to a shrill scream as a 6 foot bunny comes barreling right at her through the fog! Then, at the last possible second, I'll swerve to the side of her and keep sprinting until I'm out of sight, back into the fog. I don't know what she'll do next, but it will be worth whatever I spend on that damn costume! Later that night, I'll walk over and knock on her door, and ask her if she's seen my pet rabbit, Claire. When she's done convulsing, I'll curse at her for not making a better attempt to stop her. Maybe someday I'll tell her the truth, but right now I'm thinking probably not.

by Jimmy Tango


THE SOCIALLY ABRASIVE