Sunday, March 27, 2016


Walking With Genius

...and other colossal wastes

-I don’t get Math.

-Who could?

-Why always expect me to?

-Well...they do pay us to profess it.

-How could I profess anything? I’d feel

-Uh...moving right along, what is working
on you now?

-I don’t know.

-That late a stage! I’m impressed.

-A month to polish and...

-Will I hafta hear you’re the Genius of the
Age again?

-Hope not. People come and ask questions.
It’s all so stupid!

-How public! Like a frog! Will they ask why
you’re not wearing socks?

-They stink even before you put them on!

-Uh huh? Your Carly-Ann is obviously at the
same Weekend For Bossy Broads as my
Jensy. She’ll soon announce her presence,
and where the sock drawer is.

-Announce! They’re both Announcers!

-Thank God for it! The quiet is rancid in
my place.

-Quiet is gold!

-Yeah, for idiot misers such as you. By the
bye? November? Cold? No jacket?

-Jackets are for forgetting.

-What’s next for you after the inevitable trophy?


-That’s for everyone.

-No, there’s a math to feel around in there.

-Rotza Ruck! I lean fatly forward and
fetch a rock. Expense of breath! Anyway, premature prize for you!

-I’ll treasure! Put it on my mantel.

-Because of the angle, no one will see it.

-I’ll prop atop one of the whatchacallits.

-Good! Whatchacallits rule! Maybe we should...
partner in this latest nonsense?

-I don’t think so.

-Mother never taught to share?

-Never taught anything.

-And Father?


-No wonder you’re a genius. You’re unlearned!

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