the grumble of the razor blade humbled the fine growth. the shadow filed down to a suave stain. ernest piplove splattered some stale cologne onto his rash ravished face and grinned a toothless grin into his shaving mirror. behind him the egg yolk sun shot a reflected glare into the glass unsettling the cat that sat by the fawcett. a humble day presented itself with undue fanfare and sun.
'i don't mind', said the geeky ernie, 'i have my rum and raisins to break my fast and a pint of widows finger fer lunch'.
he swung his rusty leg into the awaiting pants and straddled his gussets like a milky thief. water cascaded down from the basin and onto the floor whereupon the cat lapped at the warm foam its face filling with a tarnished frill.
the noisome tang of industry smarted their eyes as the pair stepped out into the bright buckle shine day.
'oh foer a tram to take us toward the factory gate', said ernie.
'feckle fit and flitch bick', said the cat for he had a bad limp and a vocal impediment the size of belgium.
the trams rattled a confusion of the populace forth and back each and every day and today was no different being monday.
after all.
14 Jan 2008
ballad. balladery. ball cock and min.
Posted by Russell CJ Duffy at 13:25
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1 comment:
i really admire your versatility
enjoyed this,
especially the ending
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