Possums, do you
want me banned from the supposedly silent library...
Dr Phil stays with me,
Robinia! You can have
Dr Philling, ha ha ha. Oh okay,
take him. But if it's about your green fingers again, you know you're
just being spoilt, girl...
Good to see you,
Shaney!
Neti, love your sister's garden.
God daaaamn the pusher man, that's a good one,
Vinny, had forgotten that one completely and yet it's instantly totally familiar. Strange, that. One of our finest poets, Tomas Transtr�mer, described time as not linear but like a labyrinth: You put so many miles behind you, but at certain moments - like when finding and re-reading an old letter - you can suddenly hear yourself hurrying by on the other side of the wall twenty-six years earlier, very close to where you're standing now with all those miles already done. Music works like that too, doesn't it.
Speaking of Miss Puss having the time of her life (as the Fruitcake Lady did), I learned a new? game called
What's your porn name, as in if you were a porn movie star. Here's how you do it. First, you take the name of the street where you grew up, then, the name of your first pet. For instance, if you grew up on Duke Street and had a dog called Stumpy, you'd be Duke Stumpy, ha ha ha. Or you could be Cannon Cuddles. Or Miss Cheapside Puss. Mine's
Regiment Zsa Zsa. I love my porn name, I love my porn name! Hurry, hurry, I want yours! I won't sell them! You know me!