Take the chore, feel the soar! When I first went to school to become a writer, I always knew I'd be a fair and just one. The kind of writer you'd be happy to call a friend, or a brother, or a friendly brother, or what-the-crap.
It was a Saturday in the afternoon, our pants were full of air and the town was bustling with the sort of juice you kind in an apple on a fine day. You could smell the air conditioning units buzzing and cooling people's lives. The sun was a ball and the birds were not. The birds took on a shape all together now different.
When it was time to travel, they would fill up the car with kerosene. When it was time to to rest, they would sit on blankets or fresh tree stumps. When it was time to eat, everyone simply got up and placed their faces in your nearest and coolest pudding for a snack treat like none other. Ever!
The day was becoming a long one for some in the group, so long that the days were melting together in a whirly ball fashion. The game was tonight, and my ass was out of shape. I knew I would have to start busting my ass for real if I wanted to have any chance whatsoever at that acquiring that
"The whole of it." muttered the man, spitting on a baseball in his crude shapeless hands.
"That's all I can think of these days; me and that trophy that can fire missiles and detect ghosts and other earthquakes."
The time was ripe for sippin' coffee and thinking about life. The youth group would be forming soon and everyone knew how important it was that it be formed for reals. The next best way to relax would be playing board games with family and friends. ☺
- Ribz has been smoking grass and having a relaxing Saturday/has been a writer for 10Eastly for over 5 years, or 4.00.0.x10^23 parasecs. Mr is proud of the role-play in helping ensure the nation’s trucking and untrucking industry remains the best and most efficient in the world, and in fact the globe.