Layered Turtle, interlude

… I’m a turtle layer. Watch out, turtle. I’m gonna layer you out!

–from “The Turtle Slayer with a Speech Impediment, and Other Stories,” by Walter deGewm-Cook. August Snowstorm Publishers, ca. June 1988.


Thoughts on the Superbowl, interlude

..So let me get this straight. The contenders to the Superbowl are either blind, triangular-faced men who wear fiery hats, or disembodied bird heads?

Well isn’t it obvious? The former will win, hands down. And talking about disembodied birds is making me hungry.

–From American sports writer and critic Charlie “Bear” Helmet-Wilderbeast, Sunday January 14th, 2018.

After he lost 90% of his earnings from his bet on the Patriots, Mr. Helmet-Wilderbeast had to write a retraction to apologize for his statement on January 14.

Toffee, interlude

When butter, brown sugar, and flour combine to make a crust, and walnuts, coconut, baking powder and an egg get into a rumble and everything gets cooked at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 12 minutes, nothing short of a miracle happens.

–from “Fun with Instigating Culinary Ingredients to Dance” by Dessert Chef Flad Washelt-Fritz, ca. 1968.

Caramels, interlude

Caaraamels, Caaaaraaameels. Carrrrameeels!

from a scene in the new horror film, “54 Caramels” debue film director and culinary chef Waltz Fry-Marshmallow, ca January, 1998.

He’s Eating, interlude!

…He finally eats solid food as of today at 4p.m. He hasn’t eaten anything solid since Saturday. I’m gonna keep hoping he’ll survive beyond this month.

–from “Amazing Veterinary Stories in Feline Culinary Artist Magazine,” January 2018.

Poor Cat, interlude

…Two weeks ago he was fine. Ate like a horse, then wanted outside, then came back on his own. Just like a dog. He even has the same markings as my dog.

Now look at him. He no longer has an appetite but drinks often. Like a fish. Chronic heart failure the vets say. They’ve done all they can.

I’m giving him medicine three times a day and chicken broth with a syringe twice every hour. He just lays there on his pee pad with a towel underneath. He’s a mess.

I’ve taken him outside and he perks up then. He tries to retrace his old haunts, then runs outta steam and lays down. Either he’s out of breath and wheezing or the boughs above are creaking.

He gets back up to the place where I cannot follow, a small opening in the fence, to the neighbors yard, and that’s where I intervene. I carry him back inside to feed him more broth. I can tell he pouts.

–from “The Twilight of Mr. Missouri” available on compact disc and mp3. Ca 2005, Calico-Fluffypants Records, Inc.