Tuesday, April 13, 2004

A large, heavy piece of furniture fell on me today.

The pain in my pinky faded. My leg, on the other hand, now sports a patch of gangrene. I am sure it'll have to be amputated. Until then, I can still hobble around despite the pain - oh! the pain! This pain is not content to stay put; it wanders from extremity to extremity. The uninjured arm and leg thus share it with the crushed limb.

While I linger between life and death, I am feverishly writing my last will and testament. To my mother and father, who found me in a bottle floating on the Black Sea and rescued me, I give my collection of priceless teddy bears. To my sister, who bites my feet often, I will give you my feet. But skinned. Because, my skin will go to you, my faithful readers; just like the highwayman, Burley Grove, I shall bind my written works, this very blog, with the skin off my soles.

Before I pass on to the next world, that joyless land of grey, I estimate that I have just enough strength left to copy and paste the Morbid Mirth du Jour, sent by the lovely Comtesse DeSpair:

An ugly man walks into his local pub with a big grin on his face.

"What are you so happy about?" asks the bartender.

"Well, I'll tell you," replies the ugly man. "You know, I live by the railway. Well, on my way home last night, I noticed a young woman tied to the tracks, like in the movies. I, of course, went and cut her free and took her back to my place. Anyway, to make a long story short, I scored big time! We made love all night, all over the house. We did everything, me on top, sometimes her on top, every position imaginable!"

"Fantastic!" exclaimed the barman. "You lucky guy. Was she pretty?"

"Dunno... Never found the head."

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