Mar 092010
 

I bought my first suit. It took effort. Cryptic rituals just before dawn were required to remove the eldritch wards that stood guard over the monolithic barriers in my mind that prevented such an unspeakable act. But the act was performed, and though not yet spoken of,  now printed of. It all happened so suddenly. First, a coupon from Express,  called to my soul with significant savings. Then,  a sale at Express.com on man suits. Last, and worst  of all yet best of all, while compiling my tax information I discovered a Men’s Warehouse receipt from Ben’s wedding, detailing my exact suit measurements in a language so old and cryptic the very symbols themselves suggested unspeakable horrors to my racial memory.  A slim, pinstripe black number was located and the bargain was struck fora sum of $300.  Time will tell if the deal proved beneficial…

So I will relate another tale while we wait…

The plumber came today to fix our sinks which refused to drain. This led to the following moment which will forever hold a special place in my heart: Despite the use of hammer, wrench, and butane torch, the maniacally resistant junction cap defending the innards of our bedeviled pipes would not come free. Mr. Plumber immediately decided to get medieval and use an old jagged power saw. At first the pipe just whined… but slowly as it’s armor began to yield  a thick black ichor began to drip down its sides, thoroughly contrasting with its own pure white exterior. Slowly, as the laments of the pipe began to resemble  shrieks, so to did the drips of acrid substance begrudgingly become sprays of noxious fluid. The assaulted pipe drained out its very essence right there before me onto the drive way…. And without so much as a moment of reverence for the viciously abused cylinder, the plumber did then immediately rend the pipes insides with an implement so dark and hideous that Jack the Ripper himself would have cringed. At the behest of this wicked toy, metric tons of corrupt sludge came oozing out of that dark ravaged orifice. When the terror finally ended and the pipe cried out no longer, our sink burbled with a renewed sense of purpose. We could wash our dishes once again! But alas, hear I sit, late at night, in bed, still aghast at the horrors I saw committed far beneath our kitchen sink. My mind fills with terror at the mere suggestion of blockages, and the revenge surely sought by the pipe perform continue to haunt my mind…

And thus, the tales end for now. For now….

 Posted by at 12:08 am

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