"Oh the sun shines bright on my old Kentucky dome," as if. I doubt even the DPP could have shielded me much. The narrow doorways, impossible desks, and unflattering yearbook photos aside, high school was harsh. I wore glasses, I never dressed out (I don't jump and I only shower at home). Add to that I was taller than all the girls in my class, and my complexion was (is) almost perfectly clear.
Fake ID and a plausible back-story won't fix that. I think my mom just phoned it in, like my elementary school transcript. Hey I was glad when she Photo Shopped me a shot-card, and my birth-certificate should be hanging in a museum, but I've got roots like an aeroponic-endive. They're neat and clean and just hanging out there, but they don't even hint at where I acquired my distinctive flavor. And yet, here I am.
Fake ID and a plausible back-story won't fix that. I think my mom just phoned it in, like my elementary school transcript. Hey I was glad when she Photo Shopped me a shot-card, and my birth-certificate should be hanging in a museum, but I've got roots like an aeroponic-endive. They're neat and clean and just hanging out there, but they don't even hint at where I acquired my distinctive flavor. And yet, here I am.
I'm really glad to be back in Flatware County, but my doctor tells me I'm not quite as tall as I was in high school. I'm not surprised. I'd heard before that "Some settling may occur during shipping," but I always assumed that was like the people that ended up in Kansas, or Idaho, or Oklahoma, because of dead horses or broken down Conestoga wagons.
After my unexpected lay-over at the Birmingham airport, I was released into the wild, but I was encouraged to make alternative arrangements for my return to Flatware County. As carrier of last resort, it was Cousin OD who finally got me home.
The last of the stickers are long since removed, and as you may have noticed, scratches don't last long in gel. The costs of traveling down "The Rabbit Hole" weren't all demanded up-front. OD warned me about the hazards of bi-location experiments including, deletion, diversion, serial dislocation, and the possible generation of one or more doppelgangers. Great I can just picture my Samsonite raining down on the Nimnatons. Oh well there's a number on the tags, maybe they'll call.
Standing at the double line squinting into the sunshine of Flatware County I wasn't thinking, maybe I'll die, is that really where I'll land?, or "Think of the children." All I could think was, "Click your heels, click your heels, there's no place like home." Well I made it. The scratches are healed, and like Sidual said, "You can always get new luggage." Chilling here at the Ice House, dozing "Under The White Wind," my contentment is still in flux. I feel a ripple in the force. Have I spawned a whole tribe of pale green Frankies, or maybe just one new me lost and alone, watching for a way home in the broken sky.
............Aquavelveta...........
After my unexpected lay-over at the Birmingham airport, I was released into the wild, but I was encouraged to make alternative arrangements for my return to Flatware County. As carrier of last resort, it was Cousin OD who finally got me home.
The last of the stickers are long since removed, and as you may have noticed, scratches don't last long in gel. The costs of traveling down "The Rabbit Hole" weren't all demanded up-front. OD warned me about the hazards of bi-location experiments including, deletion, diversion, serial dislocation, and the possible generation of one or more doppelgangers. Great I can just picture my Samsonite raining down on the Nimnatons. Oh well there's a number on the tags, maybe they'll call.
Standing at the double line squinting into the sunshine of Flatware County I wasn't thinking, maybe I'll die, is that really where I'll land?, or "Think of the children." All I could think was, "Click your heels, click your heels, there's no place like home." Well I made it. The scratches are healed, and like Sidual said, "You can always get new luggage." Chilling here at the Ice House, dozing "Under The White Wind," my contentment is still in flux. I feel a ripple in the force. Have I spawned a whole tribe of pale green Frankies, or maybe just one new me lost and alone, watching for a way home in the broken sky.
............Aquavelveta...........
He looked a lot like Chatty Silvers, maybe his father, possibly his grand or even great grand father. Naked, very hairy, and standing with a lot-o sheep, he claimed to be dancing with the creator at the center of the universe. We couldn`t dispute this, and the sheep did seem to like him. However frail, wobbly, and foul as he was, we still needed to wash his feet before we got him in the car. He turned out to be quite ticklish.
