three in the morning productions

anemia

Someone in this household had the ingenuity to remove the batteries from some dying appliance and placed them in the clock in the living room. Now everytime the hour strikes, a death knell rings throughout the house. The effect of it being nothing less creepy or more annoying than a record being snatched from under, its last breath protracted and sonorous. I suppose I should do something about it. The same way I suppose I should also throw out my cat from my room, flea-infested wretch that he is (yet I haven't found anything to match the satisfaction in a flea as it goes *squish* between the fingernails). He sneaks and slips through any open door and unleashes his sexual frustration by doing violence on the other neighborhood pets, cats and dogs alike because the teddy bear's no longer enough for him. Praise me, he's fixed. Well this one is the Off-Off Broadway version of Cats No Prosaic. Sometime ago Animal Control came to ask, holding up this local Macavity by the folds of his striped neck, if this "Psycho Kitty belonged to the family"--No, not if it meant paying damage fines.

Gads, I've recently lost all interest to do schoolwork. Not now... not now...

It seems insignificant in the light that I've struck on a golden friendship. We're going to start a chess club. That's nothing. He calls me a pixie. And he likes Bjork. You know he's terrific.

So then, it's early morning, "there's more to life than this". Cheerios.

11.10.02 - 1:02 a.m.

	anemia Someone in this household had the ingenuity to remove the batteries from some dying appliance and placed them in the clock in the living room. Now everytime the hour strikes, a death knell rings throughout the house. The effect of it being nothing less creepy or more annoying than a record being snatched from under, its last breath protracted and sonorous. I suppose I should do something about it. The same way I suppose I should also throw out my cat from my room, flea-infested wretch that he is (yet I haven't found anything to match the satisfaction in a flea as it goes squish between the fingernails). He sneaks and slips through any open door and unleashes his sexual frustration by doing violence on the other neighborhood pets, cats and dogs alike because the teddy bear's no longer enough for him. Praise me, he's fixed. Well this one is the Off-Off Broadway version of Cats No Prosaic. Sometime ago Animal Control came to ask, holding up this local Macavity by the folds of his striped neck, if this "Psycho Kitty belonged to the family"--No, not if it meant paying damage fines. Gads, I've recently lost all interest to do schoolwork. Not now... not now... It seems insignificant in the light that I've struck on a golden friendship. We're going to start a chess club. That's nothing. He calls me a pixie. And he likes Bjork. You know he's terrific. So then, it's early morning, "there's more to life than this". Cheerios. 11.10.02 - 1:02 a.m.