a guy on a banana seat bicycle
told my wife
she was wearing a lovely dress
as she walked
down the street
he did that
in broad daylight

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My daughter and I went to check on the ol’ creek, Paradise Crick itself, down yonder ways.

What we found left us SPEECHLESS.

But that’s not all. Watch to the end for an incomprehensible surprise.

Beethoven kept calling
sloppy bowls of beans
“Delicious candy.”

“Pass the ‘delicious candy’!”
he yelled at the table.
He yelled because he was
as deaf as a parakeet
crushed under a cinder block.

His butler hated hearing him
scream about delicious candy.

Beethoven spilled some
of the sloppy beans on his pants
“Holy crow!” screamed Beethoven.
“I got delicious candy
on my pantaloons!”

He ran to the Danube river
and waded in.
Trout and otters
swarmed him and consumed
the bean slop from his pants.

“They too,” thought Beethoven,
“love the delicious candy.”

A bunch of girls
in their early twenties
went and got lattes
before the big event.

Then they drove
to the big event.
Makayla Larva, their leader,
had booked a room
at a slaughterhouse.

The girls all rushed in
and tore the ox to pieces
bathed in the blood
gorged on the flesh.

The rest of the girls
had to wait until Makayla
had eaten her fill,
then they buried
their heads in the carcass,
slurping up gobbets of meat.

After they got hosed down
they went to Makayla’s
and did face masks
and watched Gilmore Girls.

I heard about someone building his own casket.
I thought that sounded like a good idea.
It seems likely to me that I’ll be dead soon.
So better get to work on that casket, I figure.

I’m always reminding my family that I’ll probably be dead soon.
They like it when I say that.

When I turned 16 I became convinced that I would die before I was 18.
Part of the reason I did that was so I would drive carefully.
And it worked.
I survived.
It still works.
For years I’ve been driving like an old man delivering elaborate cakes on a reality TV show.

So I bought some wood for my casket.
Nothing fancy.
Just plywood.
And I used an ax cut the wood just so.
The pieces got that ‘rough hewn’ look that gives pallbearers splinters.
The rough hewn look is De rigueur.
Or in this case de rigeuer mortis.

Apparently, I told one of my younger brothers, when he was 10 or so, that I didn’t think he’d make it to 18.
I think my idea was to put something like that in his head the way I’d put not making it to 18 in my own head.
And that would be a protection against doing stupid stuff that would make him become a dead corpse.
So that was very nice of me to do.

Now I just had to hammer the whole dang casket together.
I got out my trusty hammer.
I tapped a nail into place.
Then I drove it in.
Then I did the same thing with about five more nails.

And that’s all it took.
I threw a couple of throw pillows from the couch into the casket to give it a homey look.
Boy, did it look nice.

I could hardly wait to die.