Sometimes I trip over air.
The signs for the community "YEARD SALE" are still up. I wonder how much trouble I'd get for tearing them down, carefully whiting-out the offensive E, and stacking the resulting pile on the mayor's porch.
I like tortillas.
I think I shall arrange the cones in a smiley face for when the police arrive. Should give them a laugh.
The ditch-digger thingy looks like a beaver. But with a scorpion's stinger for a face.
Wearing rubber gloves makes me feel like a superhero. One that's elbow-deep in soapy tartar sauce water, but still.
I think I need a mascot. And memorablia.
I want a lettergirl's jacket! With twelve arms!
Philisophical Insight VII:
The saints are coming, I got that. But what if they get in a horrible car crash? Does God have them on blue cross or red cross health insurance?