I Lie In Wait
Sitting next to this wall, I'm constantly reminded of the loss of my dear horoscope. Why didn't I clip it out? That paper that it was in, I knew it was wrong. I knew from the date. It said the year was 2003. But that was a long time ago. Longer then is now. But all I remember was peering out from behind the molding on my bedroom door, and seeing this hulking figure ripping the horoscope out of the tabloids. How frightened I was! Bigfoot only comes by after 7 at night, and this was 6 in the morning, so although it was still technically after 7 at night, I still had my doubts that it was Bigfoot.
After all, Bigfoot always leaves behind a couple of bucks if he breaks anything. This guy just tore my horoscope out and ran off into the woods. I didn't get a good look at him, but I think he kind of looked like he was from Kentucky. He had "Kentucky Legs." Don't ask. But why would this guy from Kentucky steal a page out of my paper? I don't think it was just for the horoscope. The other side of the page was full of KFC coupons. And so I put two and two together: a guy from Kentucky steals Kentucky Fried Chicken coupons. It all made sense.
The guy was so totally homesick for his native Kentucky that he wanted to eat a big ol' bucket of chicken. But being from Kentucky, he didn't speak blogtopian. That's the language I speak. Blogtopian. So like any Kentuckian, he ripped out my horoscope along with his ill-gotten coupons. I didn't really want the coupons but- who am I kidding?! The Taker of Gist loves fried chicken! So if that guy ever reads this, give me back my horoscope and my coupons. And that's about the Gist of what I wanted to say.
After all, Bigfoot always leaves behind a couple of bucks if he breaks anything. This guy just tore my horoscope out and ran off into the woods. I didn't get a good look at him, but I think he kind of looked like he was from Kentucky. He had "Kentucky Legs." Don't ask. But why would this guy from Kentucky steal a page out of my paper? I don't think it was just for the horoscope. The other side of the page was full of KFC coupons. And so I put two and two together: a guy from Kentucky steals Kentucky Fried Chicken coupons. It all made sense.
The guy was so totally homesick for his native Kentucky that he wanted to eat a big ol' bucket of chicken. But being from Kentucky, he didn't speak blogtopian. That's the language I speak. Blogtopian. So like any Kentuckian, he ripped out my horoscope along with his ill-gotten coupons. I didn't really want the coupons but- who am I kidding?! The Taker of Gist loves fried chicken! So if that guy ever reads this, give me back my horoscope and my coupons. And that's about the Gist of what I wanted to say.
--The Taker of Gist | 8:40 AM
7 broke it down:
I used to work at KFC . So if I see a large legged Kentuckian I'll tackle him , I'll ripe that horeoscope away from him and beat him about the legs ! I hate Kentucky and it's fuck'n chicken so ya can have the coupon back . Now if it was a Arby's coupon you'd be out'a luck pal !
Gist you can have my horoscope - i have a spare one lying about from last November. I am not sure if you are a Leo or not, but you are welcome to use my birthday too if it helps?
Arby's doesn't have coupons, since they exist outside of space and time. It's very metaphysical that way, but I think it all works out for the best.
You know what the funny thing about birthdays are? There's gotta be about 365 of them a year; one for each day, an extra day on leap years. I've got a big problem with the leap years.
Edmonde offered me a tidy sum to rat you out to the feds. They've already got a substantial file on you, Taker.
Play your cards right, and I might get you placed on the train to smartsville.
Mess with me, and I'll have Edmonde and his twin brother sent to your Gist mill with a platoon of ferderal marshals. Get ready for the bullet bus to Plaid City, pally. Plaid City.
Edmonde is as evil as he is crafty. It'll take more than the likes of him to bring down the Gist-industrial complex.
Do you have any more pop tarts? I hate Edmonde, but he always gives me pop tarts. That guy is so cool. But I hate him so much. Curse your eyes, Edmonde!
Gist got beat up by Spiderman!
This just keeps happening to me. I keep trying to get out of the line of fire, but the people who love KFC just keep pulling me back into the fray. I just want to let it go, but the Colonel (Sanders, not Chickenpox) just makes that gravy so well.
So well? Farewell. Well springs. Poland springs. Now, that's a tasty water bottle!
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