2004-04-10 - 6:08 a.m.
dear diary,
this is the most fucked up, and therefore outstanding, thing i've ever played with.
so far i've made my chicken slave pantomime taking a dump, fucking a couch cushion, grabbing his balls, pecking the television, talking, doing backflips, and masturbating extraneously all over the room.
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"what do you want the chicken to do? he'll do anything."
"make him do his taxes."
"remind me again why i married you?"
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"why is that kid wearing a trench coat while riding a bike?"
"let's call him blacky bikersons."
"that's totally nucking futs."
"........"
"yeah, i said nucking futs. shut up."
"........"
"stop staring at me."
"........"
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"hey there's another guy on a bike!"
"let's call this one whitey bikersons."
"that's totally nuc..."
"stop it."
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things i forgot to add today: we went to P lake and i found this awesomely grandiose tree branch that had fallen and had a bunch of little branches at the end of it, kind of like a cat-o-nine-tails. it was a good seven feet long. i followed les husbou on the trail and spent a good twenty minutes whipping his calves and ears while remaining a good seven feet back from him.
the tree branch would whistle through the air so he knew it was coming but i caught him a couple of good ones.
also, i found a switchblade.
so i opened it up a whole bunch of times and threatened to "do him in" and "cut him good" ala the outsiders style.
he wasn't too pleased with me today.
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"stop pointing that thing at me."
"i want to blade you."
"you know nobody says that right?"
"well, they should."
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ps: wtf all of a sudden i like postal service now? when did that happen?