- an ostrich feather, a small gibbon with a subdued gag reflex, fifty-two dollars in quarters.
- Portuguese bleach, fishing tackle, Moose.
- an Esperanto handbook , cinnamon, all outstanding warrants cleared.
- a recently cleaned gasoline tank, left-handed brass knuckles, an unusually large avocado.
- gift card for Big N' Tall, two blenders (one hand, one standing), an empty stomach.
- a zip cord from a WWII era paratrooper, a sony walkman (cassette) with a cheetah print velour cover, two bucks.
- a strong magnet, a switchblade comb, Diana (who used to be Kent).
- the libretto to Euridice, an incontinent Macy's clerk, a new car battery.
- Vaseline, the soundtrack to Quicksilver, a passable grasp of market Hungarian
You SIR, have the hygeine of an overly ripe avocado and the speaking habits of a vaguely deranged chess set. I find your manner to be unctuous and possibly libelous, and whatever standard you set for orthodontal care, it's not one I care for. Your choice in news programs is semi-literate at best and I do believe your favourite news anchor writes erotic literature for university mascots. While I'm not one to point out so obvious a failing, there has been rumour that the brunches you host every other Sunday are made with too much lard and cilantro. If you get my meaning. There is something to be said about your choice of motor-car fuel, but it is not urbane and if I were to repeat it, mothers would cover their children's ears and perhaps not a few longshoremen within earshot would blush. How you maintain that rather obscene crease in your trousers and your socks is beyond me, perhaps its also during this time that you cultivate a skin regime that I'm sure requires the dea
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