I decided to write a poem about a grave injustice foisted on me by what i thought was an understanding piece of savory pie. Let this be a warning to you, not all foodstuffs can be trusted.
Pizza, How Could You Burn My Mouth?
Bubbling sauce, melting cheese
Taste beyond compare
Welcomed kiss, of hungry teeth
Mouth in anticipation
Blinding pain, hanging skin
My heart betrayed
Pizza, how could you burn my mouth?
I thought we had something special.
I decided to go as myself on Halloween. Here is a photo of me heading off to a Halloween party as myself:
It was a little chilly, so I wore my shag carpet shirt and bunny slippers. I took my favorite cow fetus Bessie along with her new purple dyed hair. It was a fun Halloween and the party lasted for hours, even though we mostly sat around the front yard and tossed bread crumbs to people dressed as birds.
Everyone kept mistaking my normal attire for some sort of strange clown costume. If I wanted to come as a clown, I would have. I still have my old clown suit that I wore when I tried to make money at children’s parties. I guess that’s what I get for going to a Halloween party where I didn’t know anyone. It takes a while to get used to my unique fashion sense.
Cartopia 