Ghost ship
Today I passed an old man in a 45 foot Cadillac, who I believe was dead at the wheel. No, not asleep, dead. His jaw hung down and his head was tilted back. I am guessing he died with cruise control on.
He seemed to be going pretty straight so he has probably hit the I15 by now. Maybe they will catch him when he hits Vegas or Barstow. Personally, I am hoping he makes it all the way to the ocean where that Cadillac will be in the element it was made for, the open seas. Before long there will be reports from cargo ship captains that they have spotted a ghost ship with a skeleton at the wheel.
On a semi-related note: Every day is Halloween for these poor kids in London Nightmare playground 1 Nightmare playground 2 From This Is Broken
You should copywrite this and sell it to Disneyland as some sort of spookey children’s ride.
So people really do “snicker”. Its an outdated reaction but it seemed an appropriate so I decided to use it. Besides that, I couldn’t help myself.
A friend of mine had a huge car named the Titanic. It burned up a few weeks ago. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry about the playgrounds; I think I’ll do both. Excuse me.
Here’s the thing. I’m pretty sure they just installed the headstones to stop small children from flying off the bottom of the slide into the fence beyond. Funny, because they installed the fence to keep children from flying into the road. It’s like layered decorating for the playground… only really creepy. Christopher Lowell would be so proud. (Also: would probably drape the headstones in silk and prop up a few silk plants.)
Maybe the gravestones are covered in some sort of cushion; it’s really all in good fun. The kids are sliding down squeeling in fun. Then they see the gravestone, and all of the death and corpse connotations swirl in their heads. Then just as the terror is about to take over they splash into the cushions. The result is a rollercoaster of emotional fun and turmoil that would make the sourest of misers grin–not to mention all the memories.
I just have to announce to the world at large that I love Adrienne. Because she’s cool. That is all. (Hey. I am entitled to be… not-eloquent. Ineloquent. I slept for an hour last night.)
I must concur with the recent appraisal of Mrs. Penrod. However I feel she deserves the upmost eloquence when declaring ones’ feelings. While on the subject of eloquent phrasing, I have waged a battle on standadrized slepling, and onproofreadi g , now I must stop people from trying to talk good, and say good things in a good way. Elegant, clever, creative, and above all, interesting writing should no longer be admired. If something requires descriptive words beyond good, bad, nice, or yucky, then let us turn to cliches. Then the place where we live will be nice, like seeing things through rose colored glasses.
because that’s the way the cookie crumbles and that’s all there is to it and so everyone just forget about it as well.