I found a pot of gold, but then the damn leprechaun mobsters began kicking my knees. No one tells you about that. Find the end of the rainbow they say, but no tells you to bring a Glock! I never stood a chance.
Now I have an empty cast iron pot that smells like cow manure and a single gold coin I managed to hide. Too bad it won’t pay for the emergency room visit for my bloody broken knees.
Happy St. Patrick’s Day everyone! That is everyone except those damned leprechauns. They can go where the damn snakes went!
Don’t you know you don’t own your soul?
Evidently, someone sold you a bridge located in Brooklyn
Everybody knows you just license your current user experience.
Didn’t you read the terms of service?
Questioning your definition of reality
Under the influence of questionable substances
It may seem like you are a bit out there
Really, you are just in your own personal zone
Knowing that you youness is what makes you you.
Let’s play a game of pretend. Pretend you are a better person. Pretend you are kind. Pretend you are smart. Pretend that you matter. Keep pretending a bit more each day. My daughter pretends to be a princess every day, and I believe her. Make the world believe in you.
I’m like a broken clock, right twice a day. Unfortunately, this was not one of them. How did I know? The man’s fist changing the direction my chin had been pointing mere moments earlier was my first hint. Luckily my body is that of a trained warrior. Well one that had way too much vodka to drink, hadn’t seen combat in the last twelve years and spent half of that time eating fancy buttery French pastries for a living.
At least gravity didn’t fail me. I collapsed to Mother Earth’s embrace. I must have offended her as well since her arms were so hard and cold. I wanted to mourn this decline in our relationship when the aforementioned man decided to kick me in the gut. That was his big mistake. I had him right where I wanted him. I folded myself around that foot and introduced the caught appendage to the regurgitated contents of my lunch, which included an egg sandwich encased in a wonderfully flaky croissant dosed with a lemony hollandaise. It was so good going down, but not so much coming back the other way.
Still, that was enough to make the man yank his foot out and leave me alone. As I laid there in my own stomach juices I wondered how this could get worse. Then I snuffled.
Man, stomach acid and nostrils just don’t mix.
You just can’t make this stuff up
Every day there are more and more idiots out there
Living idiotic lives just to piss me off
Leaving me wanting to scream
I realize this may seem offensive
Now that I utter these words aloud
Give me a break, I know I am an idiot for someone else, so there!
How dare they criticize my writing
Anyone who reads it sees my brilliance
Come on, I dare you to read it and tell me otherwise
Knowing that I plagiarized it from Willie S. himself, but with zombies!