You try to get Kurt’s Slapstick. Damn torrent does not open. Heigh ho! Some more lonely.
I have a cat in the cradle. Which means out of the bag.
(Kurt Vonegut’s Cat’s Cradle)
After mid-day meal is heavy-lidded nap.
On the day the bomb dropped the father(of the bomb) was dawdling with a string.
There were sex orgies on the precise day.
Father (of the bomb, as also of the letter writer) was playing with string.
Sister-cum-mother slapped letter writer.
That is for hurting father, she said.
That is how the tendrils inter-twined.
That was Cat’s Cradle for you from the moustachioed Kurt straight from his Vonegut.
Evening on green bench
It is still evening . I have to go the architect to sign a location map.
Findling a lie
Google Drive gets better search, so you can finally find that goddamn file.
The headline can be mutilated by a dirty mind this way:
Google’s (sex) drive gets better (at) search, so you can finally findle that goddamn lie.