Beans, Beans, the Magical Fruit

The sort of secret blog of Beans, a.k.a. Jules, a.k.a. "Legs for Miles" a.k.a. "Rackie the Boob Queen." Fine, ok, not the last two. Starting July 2006, sometimes "Mike," aka "fagadoccio," is a co-poster on the blog. The co-poster child, really.

Tuesday, July 11, 2006

Open letter to the baby squirrel I've been chasing around my house for 35 minutes

Baby, [NB please read in Barry White voice with background of synthetic strings]

I don't wanna do this no more. I don't want to play this game. Every time I try to talk to you, you run into the bathroom or hide under the fishing poles, some deep dark place you know I can't reach you.

But Baby you and I, we're not the same species, we're not meant to be together, and you gotta stop runnin' an' hidin' from that, you gotta get out my house for good, into a worrrl where you belong, storin' nuts, jumpin' offa trees.

Girl I ain't sayin' it ain't been fun. First time I saw you, bitch I wanted you to live on my shoulder! I thought you were so cute! But now I'm tired of these games. I want to go swimming, but I'm afraid to leave the house cause I know you'll come out of hiding and poop all over it, or chew up something I need, like cheese or underwear.

Girl, just go. I left the door open. I ain't gonna chase you no more. Go home to yo' mama, I know that crazy fucker misses you. She probably secreting panic oil out her ass all over the forest 'cause she can't find her baby!

Baby we had some good times and I ain't never gonna forget your furry ears or your huge ratty bear paws, that's fo' sho'. And please, girl, don't try to sneak on back when you drunk on cloudberries and needin' some comfort, 'cause my mama will literally step on yo' head. She's HAD it.

Please leave.



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