Thursday, August 14, 2014

lunch time at the bronze medalists

If I was to wrap my little finger around a tent pole and market it to sailors that enjoy weekends at bowling alleys, theatrical responses to monotonous poetry readings would be framed as a guilt driven soap opera. I should know.

The union of twenty-something ventriloquists saw fit to promote themselves through the guise of appearing to be and sounding like a parade of farting chickens. The string section struck a chord very much misshapen. It became even more dented.

An ancient conundrum walked into a bar and was met there by an absent-minded professor who specialized in Renaissance Dance Troupes. The two of them approached the bartender and each asked for a Schrödinger's cat Waltz. The bartender, not particularly well known, and certainly not named Bertine, offered them a rum'n coke as she was all out of Waltz.

1 comment:

Zhoen said...

Schrödinger's cat Waltz sounds like a good name for a band of rather esoteric music.