I’m going to a write a post that is made entirely of stream-of-consciousness. It is a stream of sonsciousness. “Sonsciousness” is not a word.
My grammar, and my spelling, fail at times like this.
Man, this will interest nobody and horrify a few, but here we go.
Pie.
Pie pie pie pie pie pie pie pie pie pie pie pipe, spell check, I meant to write “pie,” not “pipe.”
Chimney smoke, wintry woods, Santa beards, elves in hoods.
Christmas time and fire is high, reindeer run and folks eat pie...
Also, folks eat pie at Thanksgiving.
Which was yesterday....Happy Thanksgiving, all!
Pie pie pie pie pie pie pie.
You know when you eat a lot of pie, and then you still want to eat more pie?
Exactly.
Which do you prefer, pie or whipped cream?
Both, duh.
Together, obviously. Obviously shmoviously.
And even while I think about pie, there are so many other things that cross my mind. Like whales. And pie. And lighthouses. And pie. And yogurt. And pie. Yogurt pie.
Raisins.
Flaming raisins.
Figgy pudding, discouraged by all local fire departments.
Snow falls, rain sighs, wind blows, fire dies.
That got dark.
Get it?
Do you get it??????
It “got dark?”
Because...the fire died????
See see see see see what I did there???????
(I included that explanation for my mom because whenever I don’t explain a joke, she doesn’t get it, but when I do explain a joke, she gets it even without the explanation. It’s just how it is.)
(Is, whizz, fizz, shmizz...)
My consciousness stream flows with poetry, apparently. Do I think in rhyme? No. How Suessian and awful that would be.
It would be like this:
“Most pumpkin bagels
Are eaten by Wagels,
Who haggle for bagels
And waggle their skagels
In the marshes and lakes.
They have what it takes
To eat what they makes
Til they bursts and they breaks,
But never a Lumpkin
Has sold them a Pumpkin
That wasn’t cooked to a turn
In a quick-cooking urn
And fed in due time
To a Bumpkin.”
Note: Wagels being a semi-aquatic life-form, clad all in deep-aquamarine colored scales and fins, but having arms and vaguely human faces. They wear only a simple garment of purple or scarlet, called a Skagel, closely resembling a grass skirt, and made of intricitely-dyed reeds. They are exceptionally fond of pumpkins, and of bagels, and have mastered the art of combining the two to their best advantage.
Note on the note: Their bagels are generally larger than what we would call a “bagel,” being often as much as three feet in diameter.
Note the second: Lumpkins are generally regarded as a lower life-form by the Wagels, and dwell in the fertile, low-lying hills near the lakes of the Wagels. They have a primitive form of government, but spend most of their time farming, eat only raw food, and wear no garments whatsoever, being clad only in the exceptionally long and thick hair which grows over their entire bodies, though mainly on their scalps and noses.
Note the third: “Bumpkin” is the affectionate term used by Wagels to describe their young at feeding-time, specifically when they are being fed well-cooked bagels which have been prepared in clay vessels over a short period of time.
There you have it. That’s where my mind went, with very little trouble or effort, and, as usual, it’s brought me deeper than I wanted to go, and far deeper than I wanted to show.
So, go grow low, schmo.
My apologies.
My grammar, and my spelling, fail at times like this.
Man, this will interest nobody and horrify a few, but here we go.
Pie.
Pie pie pie pie pie pie pie pie pie pie pie pipe, spell check, I meant to write “pie,” not “pipe.”
Chimney smoke, wintry woods, Santa beards, elves in hoods.
Christmas time and fire is high, reindeer run and folks eat pie...
Also, folks eat pie at Thanksgiving.
Which was yesterday....Happy Thanksgiving, all!
Pie pie pie pie pie pie pie.
You know when you eat a lot of pie, and then you still want to eat more pie?
Exactly.
Which do you prefer, pie or whipped cream?
Both, duh.
Together, obviously. Obviously shmoviously.
And even while I think about pie, there are so many other things that cross my mind. Like whales. And pie. And lighthouses. And pie. And yogurt. And pie. Yogurt pie.
Raisins.
Flaming raisins.
Figgy pudding, discouraged by all local fire departments.
Snow falls, rain sighs, wind blows, fire dies.
That got dark.
Get it?
Do you get it??????
It “got dark?”
Because...the fire died????
See see see see see what I did there???????
(I included that explanation for my mom because whenever I don’t explain a joke, she doesn’t get it, but when I do explain a joke, she gets it even without the explanation. It’s just how it is.)
(Is, whizz, fizz, shmizz...)
My consciousness stream flows with poetry, apparently. Do I think in rhyme? No. How Suessian and awful that would be.
It would be like this:
“Most pumpkin bagels
Are eaten by Wagels,
Who haggle for bagels
And waggle their skagels
In the marshes and lakes.
They have what it takes
To eat what they makes
Til they bursts and they breaks,
But never a Lumpkin
Has sold them a Pumpkin
That wasn’t cooked to a turn
In a quick-cooking urn
And fed in due time
To a Bumpkin.”
Note: Wagels being a semi-aquatic life-form, clad all in deep-aquamarine colored scales and fins, but having arms and vaguely human faces. They wear only a simple garment of purple or scarlet, called a Skagel, closely resembling a grass skirt, and made of intricitely-dyed reeds. They are exceptionally fond of pumpkins, and of bagels, and have mastered the art of combining the two to their best advantage.
Note on the note: Their bagels are generally larger than what we would call a “bagel,” being often as much as three feet in diameter.
Note the second: Lumpkins are generally regarded as a lower life-form by the Wagels, and dwell in the fertile, low-lying hills near the lakes of the Wagels. They have a primitive form of government, but spend most of their time farming, eat only raw food, and wear no garments whatsoever, being clad only in the exceptionally long and thick hair which grows over their entire bodies, though mainly on their scalps and noses.
Note the third: “Bumpkin” is the affectionate term used by Wagels to describe their young at feeding-time, specifically when they are being fed well-cooked bagels which have been prepared in clay vessels over a short period of time.
There you have it. That’s where my mind went, with very little trouble or effort, and, as usual, it’s brought me deeper than I wanted to go, and far deeper than I wanted to show.
So, go grow low, schmo.
My apologies.
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