i drop my blueberry muffin on the cellar door

oh satan, it’s too salty again

where can I get a good burrito, i wonder?

all the burritos here are sterile and American

healthy and yet they give you diarrhea anyway

knock knock knoc

the last knock is missing a k

all the billiard tables tilt to the right

except for one

which is used for storage

perpetual 56k with an extra helping of spam

lines are longer and linger

10 items or less and everyone brings 10 and a half

everything always starts tomorrow

which is when he promises to make a good muffin

so i sleep on the floor or

the unstable bed

every once in a while, i get a good night’s sleep

[Even this random blathering I find more satisfying than my next essay.]