I reached the sanctum sanctorum. A perfect ball of fluff made from a piece of jeans insulation interwoven with black cat hairs. The hole hollowed out of the center provided a soft and warm place for the architect to sleep.
Searching bright pinpricks high, connecting patterns, skimming the plunge of dark mysteries.
I gasped. Didn’t he know? Courting a female tarantula requires finesse! Ted was showing no finesse. He was acting like a horny teenager.
It was obviously a youngster…frantically searching for its kin. Desperate to outrun the predator, it leaped and bounded, reaching a speed of 55 mph…
Were the asparagus spears too menacing for the deputies? Did they think he had some kind of potent vegetable weapon, cocked and ready to spit deadly asparagus juice?
I couldn’t go back home. Living with parents was not appealing. I heard a whisper: go west, Terry, go west.
Within minutes we were nearly tripping over (not from) all kinds of fungi.
I needed to learn how to safely command the killer table saw, and I needed that soon–before I lost my resolve.
They never knew I was there, hidden in the branches of the ash tree, wondering what it would be like to scamper like a squirrel or crawl like a beetle.
A Twist of Tats
Dragon crawls off Tattoo Lady. Freedom! Tattoo Lady stares from dragon skin.