Friday, June 05, 2009

Deep in the Heart of../Screw You, We’re From…

It’s funny how a good night’s sleep can refresh a set of rubbery legs on a toad such as myself. The rejuvenation of the mind via the means of a proper circadian rhythm cannot be underestimated, as well. With mind and body thus refreshed, I was carefully nestled into the boot of an automobile, eager to display my now-egotistically (and I suppose, latitudinally) adjusted wit. Surprisingly, this was all done in the face of what I was warned would surely be a hangover—something that apparently only affects homo sapiens.

Upon reaching our delightfully shaded destination, I engaged in a lengthy discourse with three stoic figures of proclaimed local writ and someone (my handler) who can only be versed to rhyme as another figure slightly dim of wit:

We, in due order, further assaulted the asphalt (my apologies, again, to my handler, but your skills in vehicular operation are rather brutish) on our way to a friendly game involving the shoes of a horse, food produced by authentic Mexicans, and, lastly, music, as well as a delightfully intoxicating beverage known as beer, both produced by authentic Americans.

Alas, Mr. Wiley Hubbard’s bassist remained staunch in his prior agreements with my favourite country star to perform my favorite song of the South, “Screw You, We’re From Texas.“

In gambling lingo, I guess you could call this day a push, albeit an enjoyable one.

Posted by Pooptoad on 06/05 at 10:24 PM
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