None of the rebellious ‘jump off the plate, run up your nose and tweak the little nasal hairs’ cheeses for me. No.
My cheese lies submissively on the toast. Raw and ready. It slips down my throat and pimps up my dreams.
I’m feeling lucky tonight…. ….oh yes…
This scribble was published on Tuesday, August 4th, 2009. You can follow any banter on this scribble with the RSS 2.0 feed. You can share your inspired musings after typing the anti spam word near the bottom of the page. But no Pinging because its too naughty.