“You know where tweets would work, don’t you?,” Smith asks.
“I think tweets would work in twats,” I say.
“Why don’t you explore that more?” he says. “You could have some porno tweets. You could call them your twat tweets. I think you have something there. But actually, I meant tweets would work among family members cuz they don’t talk enough. Those little useless one-liners would give family members more information.”
. . .
“Have you ever thought about the carrying capacity of Earth?”
“Why yes,” I say. “I have thought of it quite frequently. Ever since I read Jonathan Swift’s parody where he advocates the English eat Irish children.”
. . .
On the theme of tweets & twats, here is a Mother Goose nursery rhyme I found for collage material:
LITTLE PUSSY
I like little Pussy,
Her coat is so warm,
And if I don’t hurt her
She’ll do me no harm;
So I’ll not pull her tail,
Nor drive her away,
But Pussy and I
Very gently will play.
WORD OF THE DAY DEPARTMENT
“My myrmidons shall mutiny,” I tell Smith. *
“Am I your myrmidon?” Smith asks?
“No, I’m your myrmidon.”
“Off with your clothes. You have to obey me. Off.”
*Myrmidon:
1. (Capitalized) A member of a warlike Thessalian people who followed Achilles on the expedition against Troy.
2. A loyal follower, especially one who executes orders without question
. . .
LATER…
“You’re not my myrmidon,” Smith sez. “You’re supposed to have your fvcking clothes off. You’re supposed to obey my orders without question.”
Lady