pouët.net

He loved that towel more than his brother’s eagle. He liked the emblem of a burger upon it which proved terrifying for his wife. For every time he withdrew the towel she knew she must hold her breath. If he wanted a bath he would show her a drawer containing a devil costume; if he didn’t want to do housework, he would reveal a chalice of blood; and if he desired music he would conceal his feet (4 times for emphasis, if it was required).

Right now, he wanted her to hold her breath. Her nasal whistling had caused him to lie to his friend, who was sitting on the television. Nevertheless, Ploker dipped his horn into a jar of peanut butter and his wife transformed into a boat, which was used to extract soil from a mop-bucket, which paid his entrance fee into the museum of all things sour.

There they tried on bracelets and built a see-saw which was great! It allowed them to see each other’s pallid bald spots. They had so much fun. But when the cracker passed through the t-shirt, it meant they were to return home. Judge Power tanned their necks as they left and Irene poured their breakfast into their trousers while discussing the many ways a brain differs from a beacon.

Of all the days he had ever lived, this was the one which most resembled a monkey with a snout. The only negative point was that Ploker’s mum left his favourite hairdryer at the Bingo hall.

What a brilliant example of the non sequitur.