05 September 2011


The sweaty baby with the handlebar mustache reached up and pulled down on the bowl – all full of gin and floating cherries. Babies generally love gin, you know, but they are sometimes not so keen on cherries. This particular baby loved gin and really hated cherries, so much so that he spit each and every cherry across the room. The cherries hit the steel wall with a loud ringing sound. The baby grinned with delight and filled his diaper with a cheery squirt.

While the baby spit the cherries across the room, he guzzled the gin with such glee and gusto that bystanders rocked backwards in surprise. “My, that baby certainly likes his gin!” cried the Lutheran belly grader with the cleft palate, re-lighting the herring he was smoking. The baby grinned beneath his handlebar mustache at the Lutheran belly grader and lit his own herring. He knew the herrings aggravated his gout, but he loved the taste of a good smoked herring, especially after a bowl of gin.

The Lutheran belly grader offered a cherry to the baby, and the baby's razor-like teeth quickly ripped through the belly grader's arm, rending flesh from bone and muscle from tendon.

Give me a cherry, will you? You filthy, cleft-palated baboon...I should remove all of your filthy, herring-choking limbs, but I will grant you the boon of your writing arm – only so that you may warn others in your tragic, heretical memoirs.”

The sun dipped low in the horizon and yet another bowl of gin and cherries descended from the heavens.

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