Again . . .  too long.


I'll offer no excuses.

Today was a virtual menagerie of wrecks, although ,

I was mercifully absent most of the day.


The natives were restless and found their way back to our village time and time again.

One particular group of little bastards came back five times today.
(and didn't buy a damn thing)

When I returned from my errands I saw the same familiar group of bikes in a

hodge-podge pile immediately in front of the door.


Stepping over them I entered the fishbowl (our tattered vestebule) and was assaulted

by the din of guitars screaming for mercy as 24 open strings were pummeled

by a quartet of dirty fists.  (makes me think of the goatse doughnut)






For those of you not familar with the term:

Consider yourself lucky and turn back now.


Or Not  . . .

























Sorry I got off track -  where was I? 


Oh yes - the bikes.  I breifly contemplated, as I passed the bulletin board,

grabbing a thumb tack and playing a little ditty in the key of Ab (you know 4 flats ;)

Instead I suggested to bryan that he hide their bikes somewhere.

Why does that make me think of the GOATSE again?

(as this involved him leaving the salesfloor, he quickly obliged)



What seems like an eternity later the first of the little fucks wandered out

and then immediately came running back.


"The bikes are gone!  The bikes are gone!" he wailed and gathered his droogs to him.

They rushed out and left me to enjoy a much needed if not well deserved break.