I grabbed the weasels' tail and helped him along the street tot he other side to greet his nephew, he is bent out of shape from all the barrel scraping and the eye doctor socking,


he wishes he had three pairs, for pairs, a couple socks, cause he's tired of going barefoot, or with naked soles under rubber boots,


one more pairs of socks

he orders them, and they come, but he distill doesn't have them

why no socks?  

he wears them and then they are in the shower he wears them and then they are on neptune invisible rings, he wears them and ten they are on the couch, soaked in coffee and tabasco sauce


and the broom will be kept, and the street livens, it begins to awake

at least I still have my barefoot

sinking into the coffee table