Eeksy-Peeksy

augury doggerel

Saturday, March 30, 2002

Saturday, Woods

The LORD hath chastened me sore: but he hath not given me over unto death.

No, not yet, he hasn't, but I wish the bastard would get it over with. We saw more woodpeckers. Watched one woodpecker tapping and then cocking his head to listen to another woodpecker over the ridge, then tapping again. There were woodpeckers over every rise. Woodpeckers rode by on bicycles, woodpeckers pecked and erected monuments to woodpeckerdom, and woodpeckers told us to stop staring. We saw squirrels. Sure, we saw squirrels. Boing boing boing from branch to branch, with us pursuing on the ground. A gang of squirrels leapt from the trees, knocked the kid down, and carried her away. She returned in a squirrel-skin suit, chewing a raw squirrel leg.

Hills. Hills. We climbed them. We ran down. I chased her. She chased me. I'm dead. I bore you. Enough. My taskmaster has been given over to her mother. I go to turn wine into water.

Or:

After that he appeared in another form unto two of them, as they walked, and went into the country.

But that would require another sort of transmutation.

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