drag me to her nest to nest her. drag me to drag her. sent to me
to danger her stem. to mend her grates erg, her to stand me.
her garottes mend me. to drag her nets not me, her red stag.
troths derange me. to the remands. erg roger that, send me
to metered nags her tenderest harm, go! erg, the demon rats.
throat serged men. her grant demotes gamed torrents. she
raged the monster. gated tern mesh. detest me, ergg (no ha!
got her dreams. ten get harmed. no rest. ha!) gored stem met
stag herd me or ten armed hornets get me or the dragnets
hens get mortared. her amends rot. get enter me. got shard.
no regrets had met storm negated. she dag, there’s no term
that genders more. made goth sterner. more hard. get sent
no, ma, dregs tether the more grandest nag, eh retort. her meds
tend. oh ma regrets threats merged on. get thorn. her meds are
not me. erg, drat! she regards to me then. not me, erg, drat, she
drags me to her net. god sent me rot heart. tormented rag. she
or ma tends me. get her the most garnered rotted manger. she
or stand me. get her rotten smoged heart some grand ether.
Hi All,
Mr. Boss Man here. I am reaching out regarding a major crisis I am having regarding the need to obtain a duffel bag. This is a direct result of an entirely separate major crisis regarding the need to dispose of a duffel bag.
Or perhaps it is more of a conundrum than a crisis, but conundrum is a word for the dirty birds. And I refuse to speak the language of dirty birds.
I am a professional business man, please. And as a professional businessman, it is critical that I speak in a manner that is poignant and respectful, especially if feigned, as critical as a duffel bag for the development of well-being.
Let me make clear that I am on the lookout for “a duffel bag” not “the duffel bag.” Or rather, “a duffel bag that is the perfect balance of being exactly like the duffel bag and nothing like it at all.”
My initial attempt to dispose of the duffel bag was successful. But then it “showed up” in my life again. Yes, by “showed up” I mean “I tracked it down.” Yes, by “I tracked it down” I mean “it is much easier to sit inside the pain of giving something up than it is to sit inside the pain of something being taken away.”
Do I know what you are thinking? Mr. Boss Man, (my name is Boss Man) why track a duffel bag down to get rid of it again? Perhaps, indecision is the absence of wisdom. Absence of Wisdom makes a person very wise…
As some of you know, six years ago, I took a necessary leave of absence to tie myself to a washing machine. I initially obtained the duffel bag to distract from the washing machine. But nothing could distract from a large washing machine tied to your wrist.
The replacement duffel bag should be larger than me, not so large that it distracts from my washing machine. If I cannot fit inside the duffel bag, I will have to make myself fit. I am tired.
For the entire forty-six years of my existence, I have fit one thought inside my brain: Washing Machine. To make myself alone with other thoughts, I spent a week inside the duffel bag. I made myself more alone with the same thought. Washing machine. Washing Machine. Washing Machine.
Still, it is easiest to sit inside a duffel bag, as there are no light switches to flicker off and on. Off. On! Off. On! Off. No, none of any kind.
People do not expect you to forget a duffel bag like people expect you to sit all day in the room with a washing machine and not think about it. But I think it is a privilege to sit in the room with a washing machine and not know that it is there.
“Look,” people say, “forget the spin cycle. Fixate on the pineapple upside–down cake wallpaper, instead.” Tell me to fixate on the pineapple upside–down cake wallpaper, and I will indulge in what–if–I–stuffed–a–dozen–pineapple–upside–down–cakes–in–the–washing–machine–thoughts. What–if–I–stuffed–a–dozen–pineapple–upside–down–cakes–into–the–washing–machine–thoughts lead to much–too–inappropriate–to–address–in–a–public–setting–thoughts.
I am not certain the information regarding the duffel bag crisis is circulating, but felt the need to address it. Sometimes you get a feeling in your thighs that people are discussing you.
Speaking of thighs, I have two of them. I also have two business degrees. One is from a second-tier university, whose name I will withhold. I also have laryngitis. But this is not an email regarding what I have, but all I have lost.
Adieu, my precious peanuts,
Mr. Boss Man
P.S. A slight exaggeration regarding my week in the duffel bag has been made. Another thought slammed itself into my brain. I have speculations of wherefrom it came.
P.P.S. I also have speculations about the phrase “leave of absence.” Can absence leave? Can it be left?
P.P.P.S. Just because I am tied to the washing machine does not mean I know how to use it properly!
P.P.P.P.S When have I ever done laundry in my life?
P.P.P.P.P.S Sometimes I fantasize about crawling into the washing machine.
P.P.P.P.P.P.S I guess you could say I have not lived very long.
P.P.P.P.P.P.P.S. The physicians suggest to recover from my duffel bag crisis, I crawl into the washing machine.
WELL I DO NOT GIVE A RAT’S PEEL WHAT THE PHYSICIANS HAVE TO SAY!!!!
I doubt the physicians believe that the washing machine exists in the first place.
And they are the ones who told me about the washing machine…
Wasted, we wrecks waned winsome, weaned wearisome, wimpishly, we womp–womped with woe, woke–up woozy, withering
within, we wintered wall–paper–thin, we worsened with worship, we warped waistlines, we wielded Whoppers®, withstanding
withholding, writhing without width, we weenie–weenies whipple–whipped wee–wee’s wits, we worm–wimplers windshield
wiped, we walkie–talkie walk–a–holics weakened while weightlifting, went weeks without water, wept
ourselves wrung, worked–up, washed–out, worn–in, watched–over, waited–on, we wished we were what we weren’t, we wobbled
toward the ward, what wonderful ward, which wasn’t walled white, was whimsical, wide with wings, was wreathed
with windows where winged doves whooshed–by, with Warby-Parker’d wombat wall–hangings, we warbled “wisdom’s wealth;
well–being, world,” when wardens weren’t watching, we waltzed walkways, wheeling windlestraw’d Wendy who was wedded
to her wheelchair, we whimpered water colors, wailed wind-chimes, wistfully, we wallowed–over work–sheets, wounds wrapped–up
with wristbands, we wumbo’d, we Willy Wonka’d, we walrus’d, we Wendy’s’d, we Walmart’d, we World Wide Web’d
waffle–wrought, wired-wanky, winded–wispy, we waste-baskets were whack–a–mole’d with words. weight–loss
won’t warrant wellness. when we withdraw from the ward, we’ll wander, wondering what wildflowers were
without wilting? what’s will without withdrawal? who’s worse off? what’s welfare
without wage? whose wake will we witness first? what will we wear? wristwatches?