20090408

013.

I found the dirty spoons
I found the ones with --
And on that terrible day when I finally found you,
I considered:

Hugo, I need to speak with you. I'm having a breakdown. I've been looking around a lot lately, and I've found and collected many strange things. I found the bubonic plague in an art history text. Oh! and it was intensely Romantic! so I went out looking for love. I found a little bench in a dark part of town and sat for a while, waiting on a man to come and kill me. Instead - and you'd never believe this, Hugo - instead, I came upon the man who assassinated J.F.K. He said, "Sorry, dove. Sorry, deer. Been there, done that." Alert the press, Hugo, because it wasn't Oswald. Well, actually, no, I didn't catch his name. You know how that goes, don't you? So, then, I found a taxi, and the taxi took me home. I was sitting and feeling, sitting and feeling, sitting and feeling. I found a lump in my breast and two holes in my nose. I exclaimed, "Oh, see! Someone's been doing some drilling!" So I found my way to the sanitarium, cried "Sanctuary!", and, from the front desk, called 9-1-1. I said, to the phone, I said, "Hello, hello, a moment of your time, please man. I'm vacationing in the Far East for a while. Could you feed my cat? She went missing a year or so ago, but I keep putting food out, and someone keeps eating it, so she must be around someplace!"

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