Quite Important Notice! This website will be closed for business, 11 July 2008.

Urgent and mysterious circumstances compel me, Benitez, to stuff a pigskin valise and flee this town, the rain, and the Internet, until further notice. Say, Monday. Abnormal service will resume as soon I resume, that’s all I’m allowed to say. Apologies for the short notice, but when you gotta go, you gotta go.

Don’t break anything. Don’t torch anything. Those are not raisins.

Auf Wiedersehen, pets.

~*~

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Rain, Rain…

July 4, 2008

“Watch out for the third-floor rapids!” whooped Virgil,

paddling past the dining room on a wingback.

“I wonder if Edna’s still in the cellar?”, Edgar mused,

splashing a little, as a prosthetic leg and

the collected works of W. Somerset Maugham

eddied gracefully around a side table.

~*~

Pass The Ducats.

June 13, 2008

But mind the coppers.

“Stick to your lanes – and no jostling”, hissed Coach Falconetti,

handing stocking caps and a crowbar to the 4th Grade Relay Team.

“Now, let’s bring home some silverware!”

~*~

ZZ Big Top.

May 16, 2008

Farewell to the flesh. *Burp*

“The Carnival’s back in town”, said Mother, casually,

“you aren’t still upset about the thing with the bear, are you?”.

“Of course not” snapped father, “but I do hope your sister’s

brought her own beard trimmer this time”.

~*~

Pit Stop.

May 9, 2008

Edgar asked to be buried between Augie Podgórny

and the Feuerbachs. “You’ve got your snorkel and

a peppermint”, said Virgil, swatting a clod with his shovel,

“we’ll be back for you on Thursday”.

~*~

Rawhide.

May 2, 2008

It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.

“Ain’tcha getting a little warm in that coat, Ma’am?”,

stammered the cowhand, pompadour glistening in the moonlight.

“I’m not going to bite, dear”, I whispered, flashing an incisor,

then drowned out his moans with a howl.

~*~

Darn It.

April 25, 2008

Pay no mind to what they say, It doesn't matter anyway (hey, hey, hey), Our lips are sealed...Our lips are seeeeeeeal-duh!

“Someone’s moved my sewing casket”, grumbled

Mother, descending into the parlour with a hisss.

“Mmmmph… mmmphmmm…mmmph” suggested Edgar

from behind the ornamental rhododendron.

~*~